Page 48 of Fatal Deception
She put a palm to her chest, rubbed, like she was having pain. He couldn’t stand that, so he crossed over to her, wrapped an arm around her like he had last night. Just comfort.
Maybe for the both of them, because her hurt didsomethingto him. He wanted to fix it.
And that didn’t mean there wasmarriagein anyone’s future, or five or sixanything. It was just…the moment.
She leaned against him. “I feel like someone took a whisk to my brain. It’s all scrambled eggs up there.”
“Great sex will do that to you.”
She snorted out a laugh as he’d hoped. But then she sighed. “I know you’re going to get mad at me, but I’m sorry. Sorry your coworker showed up here and saw…everything.”
“Why are you sorry?”
“It must be embarrassing.”
“Why would it be embarrassing?” He didn’t think about Laurel and her sudden insistence on telling him about how she’d met her husband or how many kids they had. “There’s nothing embarrassing about being with you, Audra.” Maybe that was a little too naked, all in all, but she relaxed into him even more.
They stood there a few minutes in a pleasant kind of silence, the smell of waffles and syrup filling the kitchen. It was homey and nice and…just,right.
“Apparently I’ve got a soft spot for martyrs,” he said, more to himself than to her, but she made a noise in response—half amusement, half despair.
“Well, that’s something I guess.” Then she moved up and brushed a kiss across his mouth. “Let’s eat before the sad freezer waffles get soggy.”
Yeah, it was a hell of a soft spot.
Chapter Fifteen
Copeland was true to his word in that he didn’t let her leave his sight. Sometimes it was nice—an extra hand with the feeding and a repair she had to do on the north fence line, especially with her ankle still a little tender. Sometimes it was frustrating—when he told her she needed to stay off her ankle as if she wasn’t the one dealing with the pain.
She didn’t know how he did it, but he wrangled someone from Fairmont to bring out a full load of groceries. She winced a little at the sheer number of bags he carried in. How was she going to afford all this food at one time?
But she forced herself to smile at him. “Impressive. How much do I owe you?”
“Nothing.”
Her smile faded. “Groceries cost money, Copeland.”
“They do, and since I’m here, eating your groceries, that you cook, by the way, I buy.”
He said it in that way it was clear there was no arguing with him, which had anxiety creeping into her chest. She wasn’t going to owe him, rely on him. She’d find a way to repay him. Maybe she didn’t know the total, but she’d estimate. And somehow, some way, she’d find a way to give him that money back.
“But before we get started on lunch or cooking, you’ve got something you have to do.” He steered her into the living room, nudged her onto the couch, then set her laptop on the coffee table in front of her.
“What?” she asked, even though she knew. She knew and she didn’t want to. Why did she have any affection for this man who was constantly pushing her to do the things she didn’t want to?
“Call your sister, Audra. You don’t think I know what time it is in Italy? You wait any longer, you’ll be claiming you don’t want to wake her up. Call her now. Tell her what’s going on before she hears it from someone else.”
Another order, in that same steely voice that was impossible to argue with. But she didn’t need to argue to get her way. She’d learned how to get around the always-up-for-an-argument Rosalie. She did need to tell Rosaliesomething, but it didn’t need to be everything. Just pertinent pieces, so if somethingdidget to her, she didn’t overreact.
Audra smiled placidly at Copeland. “I will call her—right now, in fact—if I can get some privacy.”
“Nope.”
Her smile withered into a scowl. “Copeland.”
He stood there, handsome and obnoxious, arms crossed over his chest. “I’ll stay out of the shot. You don’t have to tell her I’m here, unless you want to. But you have to tell her everything else. And if you recall the deal—”
“Twenty-four seven. Yeah, yeah, yeah.” How was she going to get around this now? She’d figure out something. She was quick on her feet, and surely Copeland understood the concept of leaving out a few details.