Page 40 of At First Smile

CHAPTER TWENTY

Not a White Knight

Rowan

“ I believe this belongs to you.” I chuckle as I lower Damon from my shoulders and plop him in front of his mother. We’d been watching his dad playing a pick-up game of wheelchair basketball.

“Hey, kiddo.” Sasha bends toward Damon, her dark curls falling over her face, and plants a kiss on his head. “How’d dad do?”

“This many swears,” he whispers and holds up four fingers.

“Greg’s team took a beating. It’s not been a good day for the Lawson Agency.” I straighten and scan the park.

Families stream towards the rows of chairs and open spots for wheelchairs surrounding the play structure. Below a balloon arch stands the small stage erected for today. It’s almost time for the ceremony. Music underscores the laughter and squeals dancing around the event.

Brow furrowed, I turn to Sasha. “Where’s Pen? Aren’t you all starting soon?”

“She went to the restroom. Thought she’d be back by now.” Sasha’s gaze drags to the orange brick building in the distance.

“Let me check on her.”

“Can I come?” Damon leans into me.

“Sure, buddy.” I scoop his giggling form back onto my shoulders.

“Careful with my child, he’s the only one I’ve got,” Sasha calls, her playful tone follows my retreat toward the bathrooms.

“Uncle Rowan, is Pen your girlfriend?” Damon asks, plucking my hat off my head.

I glance up and see him placing it, bill backward, over his own curls.

The oversize cap on his small head reminds me of the first time Pen wore my cap. A hat that she still has, along with a few of my T-shirts, and the jersey I gave her last night.

“Yes, she is.”

“Does that mean I can call her Aunt Pen?”

The corners of my lips lift. “Make sure it’s okay with her first.”

“Okay.”

Happiness drips through me at the idea of Damon calling her aunt.

It drives Greg nuts that he calls me Uncle Rowan, but I suspect he’ll be less critical of Damon calling her Aunt Pen.

Over the last four hours, when I wasn’t playing goalball or helping kids with some of the mini-sports clinic exhibits, I watched everyone fall for Pen.

She and Sasha, thick as thieves already, their laugh-filled cheers drifting from the stands.

When I wasn’t playing and the blindfold was off, my gaze found its way to her.

So much that Greg slapped me in the head and said in a horrible Irish brogue, “You’re well and truly fucked.”

Seeing her, head bent in conversation with Damon, I knew I was, indeed, fucked. I couldn’t help but imagine Pen in the stands at one of my games, her belly swollen with our baby.

Christ, I am fucked.

“I’m just filling in for VanBuren.” A sulky, masculine voice drifts around the corner as we approach the bathrooms.

“Yeah, I’m sure you called in a favor from the chief of staff, who, correct me if I’m wrong, was your former medical school advisor. You shouldn’t be here. I was clear in my DM.”

My footsteps falter at the hissed venom in Pen’s voice. My pulse begins to race, and I try to control my breathing.

“Connections that could help you if you weren’t so stubborn. All I want to do is help you. Take care of you, sweetheart. I love you.”

Jaw clenched, I place Damon down. “Buddy, go back to your mom.”

“Is that Pen?” Damon looks between the building and me, his face twisted with concern.

“It’s okay. Just tell your mom we’ll be right there.”

After a too-mature-for-his-age nod, he runs down the sidewalk. My gaze remains on him until I see him reach Sasha and Greg. The moment he does, I round the corner.

“We were so good together, sweetheart. Why are you being this way?”

“Alex, stop,” Pen orders, her back pressed up against the tree, while a tall man with close-cropped blond hair towers over her, his muscular frame caging her in.

“Sweetheart, you used to like when I touched you like this.” His fingers twirl a long tendril of her auburn hair.

“Get the fuck away from her, asshole,” I growl, grabbing him by the collar and yanking him away.

“Who the—” His words are cut off when I slam him to the ground.

“That woman is not yours to touch. Do you understand me?” Clenching and unclenching my fists, I stalk closer to him.

Blinking, he scrambles up. “I repeat, who the fuck are you?”

“I’m hers,” I snarl. “Something you should not soon forget because if you touch her…look at her, I will?—”

“Rowan,” she gasps.

Her panicked voice halts my threats. As much as I want to grab this man’s throat and slowly squeeze the breath out of him like he’s tried to do to Pen over the last year, I step back. I don’t want to be the monster he is.

Stare still locked on Alex, his breath ragged, Dockers grass-stained, and button-up shirt askew, I move towards Pen. Chest heaving, I pull her to my side. The sensation of her body pressed against mine quells the beast rampaging inside me.

Alex straightens his shirt. “I think this is just a misunderstanding. Pen, I didn’t realize you were with someone. You should have said after the two sets of flower deliveries.”

“Flowers?” Creases line my forehead.

“You haven’t told him about my flowers?” Alex flashes an “Oh gosh, buddy.” grin. “Looks like she’s been playing both of us.”

“You’re the one playing games,” she croaks.

“I know, luv.” I kiss her temple and tuck her closer to my chest.

“Luv?” he scoffs. “Guess she has you under her spell too. She may look sweet but she’s a succubus. The moment she has you ensnared, willing to do anything for her, she’ll toss you aside.”

I take a step forward, but Pen holds me in place.

“I know who you are.” His mouth forms a serpentine smile. “Rowan Iverson. Haven’t you been in enough trouble lately? Wouldn’t want to add assaulting a respected doctor to the list, would you?”

“For her, gladly,” I seethe.

“Rowan, no.” She clings to my bicep. “He’s egging you on. This is what he does…spins things to his advantage. He wants to play the victim, just like he’s done with our breakup. Anything to hide what he just did.”

“And what did I do?” He huffs a dismissive laugh.

“Ignored my request for you to stay away by asking your former medical school advisor to arrange for you to attend this event, then corner me in a secluded spot. To touch me without my permission.”

“Pen, you’re being dramatic.”

“Perhaps, but we’ll let HR figure it out.”

He blanches. “Excuse me?”

“See, you’ve been smart about skirting the line.

Keeping things away from the hospital. Doing just enough to keep me knotted up but not enough that the police or HR would do something about it.

But you fucked up today. This is a work-related event.

” She crosses her arms over her chest, a stern expression on her face. “And I have a witness.”

“Your boyfriend there.” His response is snide.

“And my son.” Greg’s deep voice pulls our attention.

Greg, eyes narrowed, sits at the edge of the sidewalk, surrounded by three of his biggest clients.

Eli Silverberg, my team captain, Carson Ono, quarterback for L.A.

’s NFL team, and Kylie Tsan, goalie for the Women’s US Olympic Soccer Team, flank him.

All three stand, arms crossed, and their glares focused on Alex.

“Damon said there was a man hurting Pen.” Greg’s stern stare turns warm and drops on Pen. “Are you alright, Pen?”

“I am.” With a small smile, she nods. “I’m so sorry for this, Greg.”

“Not your apology to make.” He gestures a thick finger at Alex. “Pen, would you like the police called?”

My mouth opens but closes with her quick, “No.”

“Okay.” He nods. “Sasha’s waiting to start the ceremony. Do you need a few minutes or?—”

“I’m good,” she says quickly.

Something tightens in my chest. “Are you sure?” I murmur, caressing her cheek.

“Yeah.” She steps back and needlessly runs her hands down her hips to smooth her skirt.

“She’s a badass, your lady.” Admiration shines in Greg’s expression. “Rowan, why don’t you escort Pen while we make sure grown-up Zack Morris over there finds his way to his car.”

With Pen’s hand in mine, we move towards the sidewalk. A glance over my shoulder confirms what I suspected: Alex’s blue eyes are fixed on Pen. A snarl builds in my chest.

“I got this.” Eli places his hand on my shoulder and steps between Alex and me.

Once we reach the sidewalk, Pen lets out a long exhale and slips her hand from mine.

In silence, we stroll toward the stage. Sasha’s smile is camera-ready but deep concern shadows her eyes.

Like a watchdog ready to rip out the throat of anyone that approaches, I stand at the edge of the stage, my stomach knotted, and every muscle wound tight.

Pen – a placid, but pretend, smile anchored on her face – joins her boss, Nelson, and Sasha on stage.

Despite everything that just happened she laughs, claps, smiles, and oozes warmth.

Conflicting desires battle within me. To hold her tight, keeping her safe. To ask for answers. Why didn’t she tell me about the flowers…about Alex being back.

After the ceremony, I lurk around Pen while she talks with reporters, families, and her boss. Greg appears, letting me know that Stalker Ken Doll is gone. He and Eli waited in the parking lot until they saw his Tesla leave.

“I know that was hard for you.” Greg squeezes my forearm.

“I’m not the one he’s been stalking,” I mutter, my stare following Pen as Damon tugs her towards a buffet table overflowing with desserts.

“True, but I’m pretty sure it took everything in you to not go caveman on him.

I wouldn’t blame you if you had but thank you.

You kept my son safe. You made sure nothing marred this event for the families here.

Above all, you kept her safe. What you did today protected her more than if you’d have beat his ass. ”

“How?”

“She’s reporting him. She’s taking back her power. If you had hit him, that would have been the only story, not what really happened.” With a final pat on my arm, Greg rolls towards his son who heaps brownies and cookies onto his plate. “That’s enough, Sugar Ray Leonard,” he tuts.

“Huh?” Damon’s face is quizzical.

“No more sweets,” his dad replies as I move away.

“Can we go, please?” I whisper as I come to Pen’s side.

“Yes.” Her voice is a little unsteady.

Ten minutes later in my SUV, we’re parked in the last row of the parking lot. Pen takes off her sunhat and places it on her lap, her fingers fiddle with its smooth edges. Head tipped down, her long auburn tresses fall over her face.

Brushing her hair away, I clasp her chin between gentle fingers and guide her eyes to me. Tears brim in that honeyed stare. “Talk to me, luv.”

“I am so sorry.” She falls into my arms, sobs wracking her body. “I should have told you about the flowers. He started back up three weeks ago.”

“Three weeks ago? This whole time?” I try to keep my voice calm. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

She pulls back and wipes at her face. “I thought I could handle it. He’d sent flowers the day my temporary promotion was announced.

I’d hoped that would be it, but he sent another dozen last Friday.

I sent him a DM telling him to stop and when no flowers showed up, I thought he got the message.

” She lets out a beleaguered breath. “Clearly, I was wrong. I feel so stupid.”

“Stop.” I pull her into my chest. “You’re not stupid. You’re also not responsible for his actions.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” she croaks.

“Why didn’t you tell me, luv?”

“I don’t want to be rescued… I never meant for you to play white knight, but it happened anyway.”

Pressed tight to my chest, I comb my fingers into her silken hair. “I’m no white knight. When I saw him touch you all I thought was ‘’mine’ and no one touches what is mine.’ White knights don’t think that. White knights don’t fantasize about wrapping their hands around someone’s throat and…”

Face tilted up, her hand trails up my body and rests on my cheek. “You didn’t, though.”

I swallow thickly. “I’m no hero, Pen.”

“And I’m no damsel.”

My thumb swipes along her jaw. “You’re certainly not. You’re so brave, luv. You faced him today. I was just your backup.”

“My teammate.” A sweet smile curves her lips. “I promise not to hide things like this from you again.”

For what feels like forever and still not enough time, I just hold her. The gentle thud of my heart melds with the cadence of her breath. Muscles relaxed, she slumps against me nearly asleep. At least, I think…

Until she whispers, “Can we get GB and go home?”

“Yes.” I kiss her temple and then head to my condo to pick up GB, so we can then drive home.

It’s not technically our home, at least not mine, but as we get closer to that lavender cottage by the shore, the tension drains from my body.

And the moment she’s curled in my arms, naked and sated, the gentle ocean breeze through the open window licking along my bare skin, I know I’m home…as long as this woman is beside me. I may not be a white knight, but I’m hers.