Page 5 of Island Guardian (Brookwell Island #7)
Chapter Three
Whoever this guy was, he wasn’t welcome in Trina’s life. It might not be his place to make that decision permanently for her, but she was freaking out tonight. Rhett couldn’t walk away while she was so distraught.
Scenarios flooded his mind—none of them pleasant—that explained why her parents might not know anything about how much this guy upset her. But it stopped now.
“Is he waiting in the lobby?”
“No.” Her curls swayed as she shook her head. “Jacob messaged that he went up to his room.”
“Good.” Rhett resisted the urge to touch her. She looked so fragile. “Let’s get you home.”
He ignored the now-familiar tingling response in his fingertips. This wasn’t the time to face his highly-inconvenient attraction to her. They’d just gotten good at being civil. And of course, she’d reached that milestone first and with far more grace.
He took a step toward the Inn, but she remained frozen near the car. “I’m not sure I can do this,” she whispered.
He returned to her side. “You’re not alone, Trina. ”
Her eyes were big and glossy as she looked up at him. “Rhett. I-I…”
“We can go somewhere else. To Harper,” he said, inspired. “She can meet us at the resort or downtown. Whatever you need.”
When her phone chimed again, he was tempted to smash the damned device. She checked the message, swiping away the tear that spilled down her cheek. “This is my home,” she stated. Her chin lifted. “I won’t be chased away.”
The defiance was a good sign, but he wasn’t comfortable leaving just yet. “Can I walk you in?”
“Please,” she said with feeling.
Rhett knew enough about hotels to avoid the public areas without any instruction from her.
Her steps were brisk as they crossed the parking area and went in at the kitchen entrance.
She greeted a couple of people as they passed, her smile wobbling only a little.
From there, he easily located the service elevator. They rode up to her floor in silence.
Her steps were quick as she dashed down the hall to her door. He would’ve said good night right there and promised to check on her in the morning, but she pulled him inside.
“Can you stay?” She threw the main deadbolt, a u-lock, a second deadbolt, and two more sliding locks. One at the top of the door and one at the bottom. “Just for a minute. I know it’s an imposition.”
He wondered what maintenance had thought of that request. The extra locks and her nerves nearly broke his heart.
She’d been through something terrible that left her scarred.
Something she hid from the rest of the world.
He was ready to charge out there and slay dragons for her.
Anything to chase the fear and insecurity from her normally warm gaze.
“I’m here as long as you need me.” He tucked his hands in his pockets and looked around the suite she called home.
She turned from the door and dropped her keys in a shallow glass bowl on the stand. “This is it,” she said. “Would you like a drink?”
“Water is fine.”
“Okay. Good.” She scooted by him and into the kitchen. “Help yourself to the nickel tour.”
Just back from a tiled-floor entry, he stood in the main room, an open-concept space much like any other luxury hotel suite he’d visited through the years. Not too different from his own place at the Cove in Key West.
The light over the stove had been left on and a lamp with a stained-glass shade glowed on an end table near the couch. Everywhere he looked he saw her personality. Little touches of Trina showed in the warm bold colors and vibrant patterns where he’d expect to see a more neutral design choice.
A round table with generous seating for four served as her dining room.
The table wasn’t hotel standard. Although the surface was scarred, when he touched it, the wood was silky under his fingertips.
“Tell me about this table.” He met her gaze across the island that separated the kitchen from the rest of the space.
“Oh, sure.” She carried glasses of water for each of them. “It was my grandmother’s,” she replied. “Nonna insisted on shipping it to me when I landed this job.”
He drank half the water in his glass. Her affection for her grandmother struck him square in the heart. If they had anything in common, it was respect for their family heritage. “That’s thoughtful.”
“She sent some other things too. Including a set of everyday china.” She gestured to the kitchen cabinets behind her.
“Everyday china?” He’d never heard the term.
“It’s a thing.” Her normal smile teased her lips. “I’m sure your mom or aunts could fill you in.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Filed under topics that could divert a conversational disaster at brunch.
“We don’t have to stand around.” She waved an arm toward the seating area. “Make yourself comfortable.”
A deep leather couch was placed across from the television and he had a vision of her curled up watching movies. Several throw pillows in those vibrant hues were scattered across the couch and on two low-slung barrel chairs. “You have these in the lobby,” he said. “Near the bar.”
“Good eye.” She smiled at him as she tucked herself into one end of the couch. “They’re so chic and cozy at the same time.”
He considered the opposite end of the couch and chose the barrel chair closer to her spot instead. “Are you going to fill me in?”
Her mouth twisted to the side and she traced the condensation beading on her water glass. “I owe you an explanation.”
“No, you don’t.” He eased forward when her head snapped up and her gaze locked with his. “Share or don’t, I’ll do whatever I can to help you.”
“I’m really not comfortable talking about it,” she admitted. “Bachelor Number Three has a name, Luca Gallo. We grew up in the same general neighborhood. Until university. Then I went to the program in France. My parents think the world of him.”
“You don’t.” Gallo frightened her, that was obvious.
Her lips flatlined and she shook her head. “He’s not a terrible person.” Her voice seemed to shrink, contradicting the claim. “Just not the man I want to marry.”
“Telling your parents isn’t an option?” He wasn’t suggesting she tell them she didn’t want a husband right now. He was referring to whatever Gallo had done.
Because he’d done something.
“I’ve tried. ”
He was certain she meant she’d tried to call off the parade of would-be grooms. “What can I do?”
“Honestly?” He nodded. “Help me find a husband.” Her gaze fell to her hands. “It’s the only solution I can think of.”
He sat back. “A preemptive strike?” The idea had merit.
“Yes.” She uncurled from the couch and color came back into her cheeks. “In name only. I don’t need it to be real. Or permanent.” She nibbled on her full lower lip. “Can you think of anyone willing to do something so strange?”
He had good friends who would gladly step up as a fake husband to help her out.
For a few days, maybe a couple of months.
And suddenly he hated them all. They’d be spending time with her and getting to know her better.
They’d get her smiles and wacky humor. And he’d be left on the sidelines, watching her.
“Whoever helps me,” she continued, “we could make up a story about eloping or going to the courthouse. I’ve been private enough here that the staff wouldn’t contradict a secret-romance story. No one would ask to see the paperwork.”
“You’re wrong about that,” he said.
She tilted her head. “Which part?”
“The paperwork for starters,” he replied. “Everyone we know would want evidence, especially your parents.”
“You have a point…” Her voice trailed off. “Hold on. We?”
“Yes.” He eased back in the chair, doing his best to appear relaxed, almost careless. “You and me. Why don’t I step into the role?”
“But—”
“Our dads are friends, we’ve crossed paths growing up.” He was warming to the idea. “You landed here. Marrying me will make more sense than you suddenly marrying someone they’ve never heard of. Besides, the Cove has a reputation for perfect weddings, no matter how big or small. ”
“That’s all true, I guess.” She shivered. “Harper is envious of your wedding planner.”
“As she should be. Are you cold?”
“No.” She rubbed her arms. “It’s a lot. What you’re suggesting,” she clarified. “My parents would be thrilled to have me become the newest Mrs. Ellington.” She folded her arms over her chest. He worked to keep his gaze on hers, rather than on her cleavage. “But your parents?—”
“Will be delighted I’m marrying at all,” he finished for her.
“Wrong,” she said, echoing him. “They’ll think I’m taking advantage of your generous nature and using you for citizenship or something.”
He snorted. “Generous nature? That doesn’t sound like me at all.” She didn’t look convinced. “Besides, I’ll explain it to them eventually. When you don’t need me anymore.”
“Rhett, this isn’t a game. You can’t.”
“I can. Agree to marry me and Bachelor Number Three?—”
“Luca.”
“Whatever.” Rhett didn’t want to speak the name of the man that clearly caused her pain. “We do this and he’s no longer a problem for you.”
“But you don’t want to marry me.”
Yesterday, she might’ve been right. At the moment, the idea had way more advantages than pitfalls. “Probably no more than you want to marry me,” he agreed. “That doesn’t mean it’s not a smart solution.”
Exasperated, she rolled her eyes. “Look at us. No one would believe it.”
“We’ll be convincing.”
She grimaced.
Did she find him so unappealing? “Do your parents know?”
“About what?”
“Whatever it is you don’t want to discuss about Gallo.”
She shook her head. “It’s my issue,” she muttered.
“Do you have any confidence that they’ll eventually find a man you are interested in?”
“I don’t have any intention of marrying at all,” she confessed.