Page 141 of Lover Forbidden
Still, as he arrived at his destination, he almost wished he had more distance to travel.
Hovering in front of the address, he didn’t pull into the plowed driveway. He just stared out the passenger side window at the Colonial, looking at all the lights that glowed inside. Safe Place was like one of those snow globe houses, the kind that got the fall of flakes after you shook things up.
Picture perfect.
Pulling past the front walkway, he put Shuli’s SUV in park, killed the engine, and took a deep breath. Then he popped the door open, got out, and shoved his fists in his pockets.
Shuli’s pockets.
It was a strain on his slow-healing wound to get over the drifts, and stomping through the snow made his thigh ache. Still, he kept going, cutting a path around the front of the house to the side… to that window he’d stood under before.
Bitty was at her desk.
She was right there, sitting in her chair, staring forward at her monitor.
For a moment, he felt bad, interrupting her work. But then he realized… she wasn’t typing or moving a mouse around or talking on a phone. She didn’t seem to be doing anything except focusing on what was in front of her.
She just sat there, her eyes unblinking, her body unmoving—
Her head lowered, as if she were looking at something in her lap. Or maybe she’d just closed her lids to take a breather.
Because she hadn’t been sleeping.
Yeah, and whose fault was that, he thought.
“Leave her,” he muttered. “Just fucking leave it—”
“May I help you—”
As L.W. turned to the female voice, he went for the gun he’d tuck-holstered on the track bottoms’ waistband. But then stopped his hand from drawing. “Hello.”
The social worker leaning out over the porch’s balustrade abruptly straightened and bowed. “Oh, my God, I mean—your Highness.”
He put his hand up. “That’s not necessary—”
“I saw that someone had gone through the snow.” She pointed out to the front lawn and the tracks he’d made. “I’m guessing you’re here to see Bitty? Come around to the porch and she can meet you out here—”
“Listen, you don’t have to bother her.” He glanced up to the window. “She looks busy.”
And he was looking like a stalker here.
“Not at all.” The female put her hand to the base of her throat. “And may I just say… we’re so glad you’re back on your feet.”
Before he could take another shot at dissuading her, the female disappeared out of sight.
Stepping back, he looked up once again.
Moments later, Bitty came to attention and glanced away from her computer. Then there was a long, long pause.
She lowered her head again. Then surged up to her feet, turned her back to the window, and arranged her hair.
I’m definitely a stalker, he thought as he limped over and stood by the side of the porch.
As the big door opened and light spilled out, he crossed his arms on his chest. Then he dropped them—
Bitty was impossibly beautiful as she stepped out and shut things behind her. Dressed in cream-colored corduroy pants and a red sweater, the new highlights in her hair really gleamed in the exterior lighting. But her face was strained as she turned to him, and she did not meet his eyes—and none of that was a surprise.
“So, you’re looking better.” She cleared her throat. “I’m glad you’re all right.”
