Page 32 of Sheltering Lawson
Truth be told, I had missed going to parties. Who wouldn’t. “Okay, I’ll head up. Thank you for the invite.”
“No, you have my undying gratitude.”
Up in the office, I couldn’t resist doing a few more things to the spreadsheets before opening first one door which led to the bathroom, then another that opened into a large, rectangle room that was full of pottery, knickknacks and a long rack of clothes, shoes beneath it. She wasn’t kidding. I noticed there was also a few tuxes here as well as some gorgeous suits. She was prepared for all contingencies.
I started going through the racks and found a stunning bandage style dress with a fringe hem in a gorgeous red. I checked the size and smiled. It was perfect. Crouching down, I spied a pair of peep toe heels in tan. I slipped off my flats and tried them on. They also fit. I went over to an area set with benches and stripped down to my bra and panties next to a full-length mirror. She thought of everything. Smart to keep all these dresses here, and she wouldn’t have to haul clothes back and forth from home.
As I turned to check out the rack again, looking for a slip, I caught the reflection of my back in the mirror. My scars were faded and barely there, but up close anyone could see them. The bruises had faded a while ago, but the marks were a permanent reminder of why I had run.
I tried to ignore the visceral reaction, but stopped and held onto the rack, my gut tight and churning.
Had I been dreaming before downstairs when I had thought I could stay here? Or was I changing because of the support I was getting? The reluctance to leave wasn’t about the comfort of the sweet little apartment Ethan had made for me, or working with Brax, it was my building love for everything here. But most importantly, it was about Ethan and how he made me feel. I wanted to be with him, physically and that made me panic a bit inside. It was the first time since I’d run that I had these feelings.
Maybe…just maybe Suttontowne had been sanctuary. But now, it was so much more.
I took in an uneven breath and blew it out. I reached for the slip and put it on. Picking up the pretty dress, I stepped into it and drew it up my body. Snugging the material over my hips, I slipped my arms through the holes and adjusted the back. Reaching behind me, I tried to draw up the zipper, but could only get it to the middle of my back.
Now I had a terrible dilemma. How was I going to get it all the way up? Asking someone to help me was out of the question.
Just then the door opened, and I froze as the air wafted across the exposed skin of my back. I turned to look over my shoulder and met Ethan’s stunned eyes full of appreciation, then they narrowed.
Oh God. My scars.
He walked across the room without saying a word. Before I could even ask, he grasped the zipper and the backs of his fingers trailed like fire, sending shivers every which way, neither of us speaking. But it wasn’t a strained silence—just a heavy one, and I concentrated on breathing in, breathing out. And it took every ounce of concentration I had to do that. When his fingers slid over my scars, lingering tenderly there, briefly, before continuing up to the top, it was agony, knowing now that he could guess why I was running. That now I would have to explain and all I felt was humiliation that I had let it happen to me for so long, lost in my own denial. Regretting that I hadn’t stepped up and come clean.
I went to step away, to turn, to try to gloss it over, frantic to not involve him. He should just let me go. But he said my name, one arm coming around my waist, crushing me in a hard, fierce embrace, his other hand tangling in my loose hair as he bent his head to rest on top of mine.
Immobilized by the onslaught of need, I wrapped both of my arms around his, certain I would collapse if he let me go. I had never experienced anything like it—the heavy, surging feeling of two halves coming together, the awesome power of two universes colliding, the stunning rush of wanting. I had been so lonely and lost. And now it was all too much—too much need, too much unsatisfied hunger, too much raw emotion.
He raised his head and our eyes met in the mirror, my heart skipping frantic beats in my chest. I felt as if I was suffocating.
“Babe—”
“Okay. There’s no time for that,” River Pearl said, breaking us apart. “You need a tux. The rack is over there. Now let’s do something with this beautiful hair,” she said with a smile, drawing me over to a box full of hair accessories.
I couldn’t take my eyes off Ethan, and he stood there staring at me as if he could fix everything, make my world right, charge in on a white horse and save the princess.
Finally, I closed my eyes. If only fairytales were true, but I had given up a long time ago in happily ever afters.
Chapter 11
ETHAN
Son of a bitch!I wanted to break someone in half. I wanted to get a name from her and break the goddamned, son of a bitch into halves and then beat each half into a bloody pulp. Even as I stood there while River Pearl talked a blue streak about how beautiful Lawson’s hair was and wrapped it into this intricate shining style, I wanted to shatter the mirror, fuck seven years of bad luck.
Her hair was beautiful; she was beautiful, so beautiful she made me ache. Not just that delicate face, that curvy, give-a-man-a-fever body or her mouth that I wanted to kiss and kiss until the world spun away. But her.Her. How could anyone do such a thing to her? What had happened and what…no…who was she running from?
I turned away, and it took everything I had in me not to bustle River Pearl out of the room and question Lawson. But I knew in my heart that flash of fear was real. There was a reason she hadn’t told me what had happened to her, sidestepped questions about where she was from, who she was. Evasive and general non-generic answers were all about this…she’d been abused, physically, most definitely mentally because I could see all those incidents in her eyes, every bruise, every blow. She was killing me, and I wanted to die in her arms.
But not before I killed the fucker.
I grabbed a tux and left, working on reining in my temper. I changed quickly in the bathroom, but my hands weren’t steady when I went to tie the bow. I gave up and left it hanging dark and rich against the white silk shirt. Leaning on the sink, I realized that I couldn’t go at her like a battering ram. Even now, I wanted her to want to tell me.
But the fear in me was tightening. If I talked to her would she run again? If I kept quiet would she just slip away? Either way I would lose her. Finally, I reached for my phone and dialed Sheriff Dalton.
When he answered and I identified myself, I could hear the hope and grin in his voice. I was sorry to disappoint him, I hadn’t made any decisions. I was consumed now with finding out anything I could about her. I swear if she left, I was going after her. “Mike, I need a huge favor. Could you look up someone for me. I think she might be in trouble.”
“What kind of trouble?”
