Page 7

7

B etsy felt like she was losing her mind.

It felt like everywhere she looked, she saw a threat.

“Betsy, do you want me to take you home?”

She gasped and looked up at Matthieu guiltily. It was a few days after Ink had told her that Leon, Zippy’s foster father, had gone missing and she’d had this shopping day already planned before then.

Still, she felt terrible that Ink was having to rearrange his guys so she could have someone to take her shopping.

Perhaps going home was the best idea. It wasn’t like she was getting anything done. She was supposed to be shopping for Zippy and the boys. But her brain was so scattered that she couldn’t focus and she hadn’t bought a thing.

“I think that would be a good idea.”

Matthieu nodded and gently took hold of her elbow guiding her around a post that she hadn’t noticed.

Yikes.

“I’ll just do my shopping online. Like a normal person.”

“That’s what I do,” he agreed.

“Do you spend the holidays with family?” she asked. She didn’t know much about him despite having known him for years.

“My father and one brother,” he told her. His gaze roamed the mall.

She felt like an idiot.

“This is silly,” she told him. “Leon won’t be after me. We don’t even know if he found out where Zippy is living. Ink is overreacting.”

“Ink is overprotective,” he corrected as they headed into the parking garage “Which is just how he should be. When you have someone precious in your life that you can’t live without, you do whatever is necessary to protect them.”

She glanced up at him in surprise. “I guess you’re right.” She would do anything to protect Ink and her kids.

Matthieu opened the passenger door of his truck for her and waited until she was in before walking around and getting into the driver’s seat.

“I just feel bad. You could be out doing an actual, proper job.”

“This is an actual, proper job,” he told her.

She guessed.

It still felt like she was a fraud. As they drove out of the underground parking lot, a man stepped in front of the truck and Matthieu had to slam on the brakes.

Betsy let out a small cry and slumped down, expecting something to happen. For the man to pull a gun on them. For an explosion.

Her heart raced, her hands shaking.

What was happening? What was going on?

“Mon chéri, what’s wrong?” Matthieu asked, his accent slipping out. That only happened when he was upset.

Why was he upset? Had something happened? Had he seen someone?

“Betsy? Talk to me. Wait, I’ll pull out of the way.” He moved the truck as she forced herself to sit up.

And that’s when she realized that man hadn’t actually done anything. He’d simply stepped out in front of them suddenly.

That was it.

She’d overreacted.

And the reason Matthieu was upset was because she was upset.

Crap.

“I’m fine. Sorry about that.” She sat up further and straightened her clothes. “Um, shall we head home?”

“Betsy,” he said warningly. “You panicked. Your breathing grew all shaky and you were trembling and as white as a ghost. Tell me what happened.”

She blew out a breath. “I’m just on edge, that’s all. I’m really okay. I think I’d just feel better at home.”

Matthieu was silent for a long moment, then nodded.

Betsy sighed, glad he’d let it go.

She should have known better.