Page 25 of Vow to Protect
“She’s Tilly’s mother—was,” he corrects with a frown of disbelief. “I’ve left clothes on the bed. And the cakes are in the sitting room. There are a couple of flavours for you to try. You can tell me your favourite when I come back tomorrow.”
Don’t go. “Will you join me for some cake tasting? I’ve been stuck in here by myself all day. It would be great to enjoy some updated conversation instead of listening to the depressing news reporter.” I step closer. “I’m used to fresh air and quirky cafes, not walls and locks.”
“Put the clothes on,” he says huskily and disappears, leaving me alone.
I freeze in the middle of the room, unsure why I’m twisting the corner of my towel like an awkward teenager with a major crush on a professor.
It’s obvious when I glance over at the chair to see that he’d been in here while I showered. The thought of him spying on me, naked and wet, isn't unpleasant. It’s exciting and weird. I huff and puff at my new dilemma. Wild thoughts torment me, elevating my pulse to irrational.
A drawstring bag sits next to folded clothes. Pulling the cord, I peer inside to find a matching bra and panties. They aren’t provocative like a gift from a lover, more practical and thoughtful. My heart sinks. I curse myself for imagining Brett in ways I shouldn’t, and for assuming he would see me as a sexy female, not merely a woman who asked for help.
Stone-washed jeans stretch over my legs and a teal cashmere jumper hides all traces of physical torture. The style he’s chosen is sensible, underlining the dynamics of this unusual situation.
Next up, I move to a gift box with a removable lid, fully expecting shoes. So when I flip it open and find ointments and lotions, medical dressings, sticky tape, scissors and silicone spray, my heart pinches. Brushing a thumb over a glossy label, I mutter out the name, “Intensive Scar Recovery Gel.” He bought me topical treatments to help heal my wounds. My eyes snap shut.
He didn’t have to do all this. He’s taking care of me when I’ve always taken care of myself.
Whether we both accept the title or not, heismy hero—and he’ll set me free without a second thought. I suck in that fact and join him in the next room.
Brett’s perched on the couch with both forefingers steepled and pressed to his lips in quiet contemplation. An array of cakes map the floor like fairy stepping stones, all of them resting on glass stands with a pearly pink table cloth underneath.
Patterns decorate each one to perfection. Some have intricately molded icing—lace, ribbons and petals adorning multiple tiers and colourful layers. I count ten remarkable masterpieces in one sweep.
A creative showstopper stands out among the rest with its snowdrop icing and glittery stars bursting from the base in an explosion, as if the solar system is right there on one cake.
“You brought ten cakes?” I marvel at the creations fit for a queen, hugging myself. “Did you buy the whole shop?”
“I’m planning a birthday party and paid the cake company to make me a few testers. I’m useless at this nonsense.” Brett glances down at the display. “Which one is your favourite?”
“Who’s the lucky lady?” My heart twists. I almost mock at my tone for sounding jealous. “I don’t see a ring, a girlfriend?”
He sighs heavily, glaring at the collection with a brooding scowl. “Pick a cake.”
I kneel to the silky cover, feeling a shyness creep over me. “Sorry, I wasn’t prying. I was only…”
“No girlfriend,” he interrupts. “I hate cake, and I don’t know which of these will wow the socks off a soon to be seven-year-old.”
“Tilly,” I whisper, pressing my fingertips to my lips. “They’re very ornate and grown up. Don’t kid’s like cartoon characters or princesses?” I point to the prettiest, out of this world creation that reminds me of Natalie. “That’s my favourite. The one with all the stars. It’s stunning.” It’s also where she lives now, in my memory, with her soul pinned to a spark within the galaxy.
“Right then.” He rises from sitting and strolls to my side, hunkering down beside me. “Okay, so which one tastes the best.”
I flinch when his thigh brushes mine. “Why don’t you ask her what she likes, instead of all this?” I giggle.
Brett faces me, and I see him, I really take in his striking masculinity and symmetrical features. Chocolate brown eyes are deliciously rich and syrupy, a shade softer than black in the afternoon light.
“She loves cake—all flavours of cake.” His cheek dents when his mouth curves to a devastatingly handsome grin, like the little girl lights up his universe. “It’s my fault for spoiling her.” A sadness reaches my eyes, and his eyebrow arches. “What?”
“We never had birthday cakes.” I smile tightly. “Nat and I would pick wild berries from the bushes lining the pavement. They were sweet, if not a little bitter.” My laugh is an inaudible sigh. The memory of my big sister and I foraging for free treats warms my heart. My shoulders round, and I scrape damp strands away from my neck. Our childhood wasn’t all bad. We appreciated the simple basic things in life. “Anyway, that was a lifetime ago. I’m glad I can help you pick one for her.” I look away quickly when the heat of his gaze whips my pulse to a gallop.
Silence creeps into the room, tinted with kindness. Brett leans forward and swipes a pastel pink petal from a delicately crafted rose and offers it to me. “Well then, Raen, all these cakes are yours. For the ones you missed out on as a kid.”
I pinch a single petal and pop it on my tongue, smiling as I suck the sugary fondant. The warmth I get from his thoughtfulness can’t be described. It’s a mash of gratefulness and jealousy, like a sweet burn of alcohol giving me pleasure after a manic day.
Held in this serene moment, I envy my sister for inserting herself into his life forever, for giving him a daughter he treasures, for having him in a way I never will.
“Brett...” I draw my finger into my mouth and clear away a sticky piece of icing from my front tooth. He watches as I rub. “They’re coming again.”
“Who’s coming again?” He glances over my shoulder like he’s waiting on a rush of warriors to barge into the apartment.
