“I’ll help you after Stacy and I finish talking.”
Paloma raced around the living room, grabbing the last of the dolls, then disappeared down the hallway toward her room.
Britt turned to face Stacy, drawing herself up to her full height. The stance felt familiar, like slipping into a role she'd played before.
“You and I both know you shouldn’t have a key to Lachlan’s house anymore,” Britt said, her voice carrying an edge of steel.
“What makes you think that? Lachlan didn’t ask for his key back. Sure, we had a misunderstanding,” she said, her cheeks flushed pink as she dragged a shaky hand through her hair. “But nothing has changed between us. I’m still his girlfriend?—”
A sarcastic laugh belted from Britt’s lips. “His girlfriend? You? Does Lachlan know that you’re claiming a position in his life that he didn’t give you and that you don’t deserve?”
“Did he tell you that? Who are you?”
“You may want to be Lachlan’s girlfriend, but you’re not. I can promise you that he doesn’t feel the same way about you. You’re not his type.” The words tasted familiar on Britt's tongue, like she'd said them before.
Stacy’s face fell. “How would you know?”
The crunch of tires on gravel outside caused Britt’s body to tense. She crossed her arms over her chest, her lip curling in a sneer that felt foreign and natural. “Because you’re nothing like me. Leave the key on the table on your way out. And I’d advise you to get over your little crush on him. It won’t end well for you, and I’d hate to see you nursing a broken heart.”
A car door slammed. Footsteps pounded the porch, heavy and purposeful.
“I don’t know who you are and why you’re trying to ingratiate yourself into Lachlan’s life, but it won’t work,” Stacy said. “Whatever fling you have with him isn’t going to erase the months we’ve spent getting close to each other. I’m not going anywhere. Lachlan won’t walk away from everything we mean to each other.”
Britt's heart hammered as a key scraped into the lock. "He already has, can't you see that? Lachlan is mine and?—"
“Britt!!” Lachlan’s voice boomed through the house. Britt turned to see the gorgeous man standing in the doorway, wearing the sexiest scowl on his handsome face. “What the hell are ye doing?”
Chapter 28
“What the hell amIdoing?” Britt’s eyes burned with intensity as she pushed a finger into Lachlan’s chest. “What the hell areyoudoing?”
Lachlan took a deep breath, suppressing his anger and the rising tide of hope that threatened to overpower him. He'd spent hours watching Paloma through the security feeds after the alarms alerted him that she’d breached the compound’s boundaries and gone into the jungle. The King Family's extensive security system had made it easy to track his daughter's path—and see what had drawn her away. When he spotted Britt on the hiking trail, his heart had stopped.
He'd cycled through the cameras, following their trek to his house, then switched to his in-room feeds. Every gesture, every laugh, every natural interaction between mother and daughter had been like a gift—and a painful reminder of his choice. He should have told Britt about Paloma immediately. Not telling her could’ve robbed them of the blessed reunion he’d witnessed between them. The rekindling of their natural bond, forming without prompting, had been too precious to interrupt.
He’d kept his distance, hoping that being around Paloma would help Britt remember who she was—remember that shewas Brittany Freeman, Paloma’s mother and the woman he loved more than anything in this world.
Everything was going smoothly as he monitored them at intervals, careful not to intrude on their intimate bonding, yet vigilant enough to detect any brewing issues ...
Until a storm named Stacy Jackson blew in.
Stacy’s interruption of Britt's time with Paloma would be trouble, but he hadn't anticipated this level of chaos. The woman standing before him with questions blazing in her fiery gaze was undeniably Brittany Freeman. Her possessive claim over him and his daughter was vintage Britt, who’d frustrated and enthralled him into falling in love with her. But Stacy couldn’t handle having Britt unleashed on her. She wouldn’t survive it. He’d jumped in his SUV and blazed down the mountain roads to the house, praying he got there before Britt destroyed Stace.
He’d made it just in the nick of time.
“Answer me, Lachlan. And don’t stare at me like you don’t know what I’m talking about,” Britt demanded.
“Britt …?” Stacy’s voice was low, full of pain and hurt.
He couldn’t handle both of them at the same time. It was too much. Turning to face Stacy, Lachlan said, “I promise I’ll explain everything later. But I need to handle this … situation now. Can you just go? I’ll call you. Please, Stace.”
The pain etched on her face made him wince.
“Fine,” Stacy said, then extended her hand toward him. He looked down at the key between her fingers. “These are yours.”
Lachlan grabbed the keys as a tear slid down Stacy’s cheek. She turned and left the house, slamming the door behind her.
When Lachlan turned back to face Britt, the sting of her open palm connecting with his face rattled him. More shocking than the pain was the familiar fire in her eyes—this was his Britt, passionate, protective, ready to fight for what was hers. The realization doused his anger like rain on flames.
