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“Never.” His reply is so forceful, I have to look away.
“Mar—”
“Go get some coffee with me,” he interrupts me, giving me whiplash with his change of topics.
“What?”
“Get coffee with me. Let’s talk. And maybe give your fingers a break from trying to bend the wheel?” he asks, lifting his brows while looking at my hands, which are still holding the steering wheel. “One coffee, Delia, that’s all. Maybe a bite to eat. Nothing more than that.”
“Coffee?” I clarify. “At The Diner?”
He scoffs. “Like I’d go anywhere else. Can’t betray Sandy and George like that. Besides, it’s the best coffee I’ve ever had. Just don’t ever tell Sara that, okay?”
“Coffee,” I say again. “I guess I could do a cup of coffee. Have to take dinner home to the boys, though, so I can’t stay long. And you’re on your own with Sara. She scares me a little bit.”
He laughs, the sound rich and smooth, like the finest bourbon, “Agreed. But she does make a mean donut. The long ones with chocolate on the top.”
I smile at that and nod my acceptance.
“I’ll follow you there, so don’t freak out when you see a cop car behind you.”
He smiles, and I feel my insides going warm. He taps the top of the car again before heading back to his cruiser and following me back into the center of town. I know it’s not a date, but that doesn’t stop the butterflies from erupting in my stomach at the thought of sitting so close to this man who looks at me like he wants to devour me when he thinks I’m not looking.
CHAPTER TWO
MARCUS
Delia Bertram. Tall, skin the color of the warmest honey, eyes the color of dark chocolate, curves in all the right places. She is beautiful and so far out of my league, there is no way in hell I even have a chance. Even if you overlook her reluctance to be in a room with a man, which I understand. But I can help her with this. I can help her figure out what her next steps need to be to keep that asshole of an ex away from her.
Once we sit down at The Diner, Sandy gives me some serious side-eye while taking our orders, shaking her head and mumbling to herself as she walks away. I take a deep breath and ask, “Do you have the letter with you?”
Delia pulls out the letter and slides it across the table. My fingers brush over hers and you would think I electrocuted her with the touch by how quickly she jumps. We’ll just ignore the tingling in my own fingers from the contact. “Sorry,” she whispers. “I didn’t mean to do that.”
“It’s alright.” I give her my best charming smile, not clarifying if it was the touching or the jumping she’s apologizing for.
Opening the letter, my blood boils at the first sentence. And it only gets worse from there.
Mrs. Bertram,
We are writing to notify you that prisoner number 556792 will be released in thirty days. He acknowledges the agreement that he must stay more than one hundred yards from you at all times, but is requesting a re-evaluation of the custody of his children. He requests that you arrange visitation with him upon his release. Questions and details can be worked out through his attorney who can be reached at…
I look up from the letter, squinting my eyes. “He has parental rights still?”
“No. They were terminated by the court at his sentencing. I don’t know why he thinks that will change.”
“It won’t. Let’s talk to Daniel and see if he knows someone who can help?” Daniel Allen is a friend of mine who owns a security company. He’s the reason Delia is here with her kids today. His company went in and removed them from their situation when her ex severely beat her.
Delia nods her head when I see the last person I expect. My ex-wife.
“Marcus,” she sneers. “What a coincidence, finding you here.”
“Amber. You were looking for me?” I calmly ask. I see Delia raise her brows and when Amber huffs indignantly, Delia bites the inside of her cheek, trying not to smile.
“I mean, no, of course not.” She turns all her attention to the woman across from me. “Who are you?”
“Delia Bertram. And you?”
Both women are playing a game. It’s a small town. They might not have personally met, but I’d put money on it that there isn’t a resident in this town that Delia can’t name.
