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“I don’t see Pixie,” he said, not caring who heard his concern now. The world understood that Pixie was his.
“Let’s go find her,” Mike told him. As soon as their driver, Grant, put the big vehicle in park, he and Mike were the first to swing out of the door.
“Where’s Pixie?” Mike demanded of Talia, who was front and center to give them hugs.
Doug barely felt his. He was too busy searching the crowd.
“Inside with Mom, Dad, and Julie who showed up a couple hours ago,” Talia apprised with a grin. “They want to take her home, but she said she wasn’t budging untilher mangot here. And…” she sent Doug a slightly crooked smile, “her feet are pretty much a mess, so she’s not walking out under her own steam.”
Seriously? Her feet? Doug hadn’t given any thought to it, but dammit. Pixie had ditched her shoes, which meant her flight through the forest had been…barefoot. He narrowly held back a growl, and yup. He hadn’t given nearly enough payback to Peter.
Without waiting for anyone to follow, Doug ran to the house and took the steps two at a time. Or maybe he bypassed them altogether. But his only thought was to see Pixie.
When he turned the corner into the living room, Doug stopped short. There, on the sofa, was a very rough looking Pix. Her dress was torn and dirty, her feet, the poor things, were propped up on a pillow, the abused skin having been slathered with some kind of salve, and her face… The bruise she’d been sporting before from the Zablov guy had been bad, but now she was black, blue, and purple on both cheeks, and her bottom lip was split and swollen. When she saw him, however, she smiled anyway, wincing only slightly with the movement.
“Doug!” Pixie’s evident joy filled Doug with a possessive tenderness he could never remember feeling. He wanted to holdher as tightly as possible to his chest, while at the same time wrapping her in a bubble that would mitigate her pain.
“Pixie,” he sighed, and went directly to her, kneeling next to the couch. He laid a tentative hand on her knee.
“No,” Pixie declared.
“No?” He yanked his fingers back and his heart nearly stopped beating. What was she saying?
“Uh, uh. Don’t think you’re going to get away with a gentle touch. Now that I know you love me, I want a hug. A real hug,” she told him, looking him steadily in the eye.
“But I might hurt you,” he demurred, while his shoulders lowered from up around his ears.
“You’ll hurt me more,” she whispered, “if you don’t put your arms around me right now.”
Doug moved quickly, and as delicately as possible, pulled her into his embrace. He buried his nose in her hair as his hands cradled the softness of her waist. “Like this?” he asked, feeling he was right where he needed to be.
“Just like that,” Pixie told him with a sigh that had her whole body relaxing against him.
Her father coughed. “Uh, Pixie? Now that Doug’s here, can we take you home? You’ve had a hell of a day.”
Pixie shook her head, dislodging Doug’s chin from her hair but looking up at him expectantly. “Will I be going home with my parents?” she asked.
Hell, no, Doug wanted to yell, but he managed to be civil. “If that’s what you want, Pix. But…I’d love it if you came to my cottage,” he posed, holding his breath waiting for her answer.
Pixie nodded and another crooked smile came to her lips. “I’d love that, too,” she told him.
Pixie’s mother squeaked. “But—”
“Sounds like a plan.” Julie cut her mother off before she could get out her objection. “Your mom and I will put togetherthe things you’ll need for a few nights, then Ian and I will drive your stuff to…Newport, right?”
“I thought Ian had food poisoning?” Pixie asked.
Julie grinned. “He’s feeling much better.”
Doug sent Pixie’s best friend a huge smile. “I appreciate it, Julie, and yes, it’s Newport.” He gave her the address. “If you wouldn’t mind, I’d also like to give you some money so you can pick us up something to eat. I’m starving, and I’m sure Pixie is, too.”
“Not necessary,” Mrs. Sothard spoke from the doorway that led into the kitchen. “I’ve already bundled up so many leftovers for you, you won’t need to buy food for days.”
“It’s probably more than will fit in your tiny student fridge,” Pixie teased.
“Then we’ll do what people used to do before indoor iceboxes. We’ll bundle up the leftovers and lower them down the well.”
“That’s a thing?” Julie asked, wide-eyed.
