“I want to go with Colin.”
Maren’s mouth curved despite herself.Poor Mac. The man sounded like he’d brought the big guns and still lost the battle.
But then Juni asked Colin if he promised to come back, and every trace of amusement drained out of Maren at once.
She still doesn’t feel safe.
Of course she didn’t. Why would she? Twenty-four hours ago, Juni’s biggest worry was melted ice cream. Then their home had become a crime scene. Mr. Kibble had been torn open. The Blue Fairy had lost her magic beans. Maren had woken her inthe middle of the night and driven her across half the country toward strangers.
And now the one person Juni had glommed onto was leaving her.
Colin Hale.
The man at the gate. The first one they’d met. The man in the box.
Maren pressed her forehead lightly against the door, feeling an old echo of loss. She should have felt relief. Maybe she did. Juni letting someone other than Maren make her feel safe was a good thing.
But underneath the relief was something sadder and sharper.
Maren had spent years trying to be enough for that little girl. Enough mother, enough aunt, enough family, enough home. And one break-in had taught Juni that Maren could love her with her whole heart and still not be able to keep the bad things out.
Then Colin said something about a pinkie promise, and Juni’s voice rose, scandalized.
“No. I get in trouble if I cuss.”
Maren clapped a hand over her mouth.
Do not laugh. Do not laugh and give yourself away.
Colin explained the difference between swearing and a pinkie swear with the kind of solemn patience she’d expect from him if he were talking about disarming a bomb. A moment later, the front room went quiet in that loaded way that meant Juni was considering something very seriously.
Then Colin said, softer, “It means I’m coming back no matter what.”
Maren stopped breathing.
A moment later, she heard the small thump of Juni launching herself at him. Then the sound of Colin letting out a breath that sounded like someone had knocked it out of him.
Apparently, Juni wasn’t the only Walsh woman forming a dangerously quick attachment to Colin Hale.
Nope.
Absolutely not.
Maren stepped back from the door as if it had burned her.
Nope. No thank you. I refuse to develop a wildly inappropriate attraction to the man assigned to protect me and my niece.
Her life was currently a smoking crater. Mira had apparently been involved in an NCIS investigation. Someone had destroyed Juni’s room. A mysterious dead man had sent them to Colorado. And Maren currently possessed one overnight bag, a burner phone, and a Subaru that probably reeked of French fries and existential dread. Which was better than Juni, whose sole possessions included a hastily-repaired teddy bear, a Snoopy stuffie from frikkin’ Las Vegas, and a fairy stuffed with borrowed pinto beans.
This is not the time for my body to remember how much it once enjoyed being touched by something other than a battery-operated boyfriend.
Especially since that body had been practically dead in the nethers for years.
Years.
She had been surviving on romance books, chocolate, and a certain friend who had lived in her nightstand with discretion and excellent manners.
A friend she had left behind.
