Page 22 of Keeping Guard
“Listen carefully. I. Am. Not. Going. To. Marry. You. Not today, not tomorrow, not ever. Give me my damn keys.”
He grabbed her arm. “Wrong.” He dug his fingers into her skin. “Nowyoulisten carefully. We are getting married, so stop acting like a spoiled brat.”
“You’re hurting me.” She tried to pull her arm away, but he gripped her harder. What was wrong with him? “You’re scaring me, Dalton.” This wasn’t the carefully controlled man she’d known. This man with the cold, hard eyes was a stranger, and she had a revelation. He’d always controlled his temper around her, and suddenly she knew, just knew that would have changed had she married him.
“And you’re trying my patience.”
She was never more thankful that she’d overheard his confession to his best man than she was at this moment. “You’re delusional.” She yanked her arm away, and then ran and locked herself in her bathroom. If she stayed in there long enough, surely, he would leave.
Then she’d call the locksmith again and demand that he come change her locks immediately. When she’d called yesterday, he’d scheduled her for Friday afternoon, the soonest he had open. If he couldn’t make an emergency call, she’d find someone else.
“Peyton.” Dalton knocked on the bathroom door. “Open the damn door.”
“If you don’t go away, I’ll call the police.”
He laughed. “Go ahead. What will you tell them? That you’re having a spat with your fiancé? You think they’ll care?”
Luckily, she hadn’t set down her purse when she’d put her lunch on the counter. It was still hanging from her shoulder, and her phone was in it. Was he right? He hadn’t hit her, had just grabbed her arm. He’d probably convince the police that it was nothing more than a minor argument.
Noah had said she could call him if she was desperate. Well, she was.
Chapter Nine
“Nichole drunk dialed you?” Noah said.
Jack grinned. “That she did. Not that she meant to. She thought she was calling someone else. It’s going to make a great story to tell our kids.”
“If she doesn’t kick your ass to the curb for ratting her out.”
“Never happen. I keep my girl too happy for her to ever leave me.”
“Bragging there, Whiskey.”
Jack chuckled. “Just saying.”
They were sitting on Jack’s back deck. Noah wondered what his friend would say about how he’d met Peyton, and he was tempted to tell Jack, but something held him back. He wasn’t sure why he wanted to keep her a secret. Maybe it was because he couldn’t stop thinking about her, and if he talked about her, Jack would sense there was more to it than just a funny story.
“She still thinks she’s on the job, doesn’t she?” he said, lifting his chin toward Jack’s dog. Dakota was perched on the top step leading down to the yard, her alert gaze sweeping the area around them.
“Always. She’s not real happy there aren’t any bad guys to bite these days.”
They both chuckled. Dakota had saved Jack’s life by pushing him back seconds before an IED exploded. The bomb had still seriously wounded both of them, but here they were, still breathing. Noah would forever be grateful for that.
“He already thinks you’re his,” Jack said.
“Who thinks what?”
Jack dipped his chin at Lucky. “Your dog.”
“Not my dog.” He jerked his hand away when he realized he’d been combing his fingers through Lucky’s fur. “Where’s Nichole?” he asked before Jack could talk about the healing power of dogs.
He wasn’t going to drink the Kool-Aid. A dog wasn’t going to help him sleep at night, wasn’t going to take away his nightmares. He was the reason a good dog was dead, and he was done with dogs.
“In her studio. As soon as she finishes glazing the bowl she’s working on, she’ll join us.” He glanced at Noah’s empty cup. “Want some more coffee?”
“I’m good.” Jack was drinking a beer, and Noah would love to have one, but he’d decided to try and limit his drinking to one glass of liquor or one beer a day. If that was all he was going to have, he’d prefer to have it at night. Sometimes it helped him sleep. Sometimes not.
His phone buzzed, alerting him to a text message. He picked it up from the table next to him.
