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“Hey.” Des approaches, his hands coasting down my arms. “Do you want to leave? I’ll book the next flight. I’ll get us a hotel.”
All the fight in me disappears. The dragon didn’t even get to make an appearance. Awareness of Des enters my body, making every skin cell extra sensitive as his hands tangle with mine. This man would drop everything to make me feel better. I don’t know if I’ve ever experienced that before. I don’t know that anyone has ever put me first. It’s overwhelming.
“No touching,” I whisper.
He drops my hands but doesn’t move back. The warmth of his body soaks into my front, comforting, safe. I could lose myself in him, allow myself to love this man the way I loved Colin. I’d give myself to him completely, open every door and window to the vulnerable inner core of me, and it would break me into a million pieces when he inevitably walked away.
Des has already told me he’ll leave when this is over. I’d be a fool not to believe him.
When we re-emerge upstairs,I finally get to meet Vince. On first sight, he reminds me of Sebastian Finch, Georgia’s husband. He has the same golden-brown hair and blue eyes, tanned skin, and a perfect, white smile. But as soon as he opens his mouth, I can already tell he’s nothing like our Texan implant.
“Look who finally found someone who could put up with him!” Vince calls out, slapping Des’s back a little too hard. Then he turns his icy-blue eyes to me, and I realize on closer inspection that they’re not like Sebastian’s eyes at all. There’s something cold in Vince’s gaze. “And you’re the lucky lady,” he grins. “How much is he paying you to be here, and are you free for Christmas? I might need a date.” He leers, dropping his gaze to my breasts.
I stiffen. Des curls his arm around my shoulders and pulls me back, facing Vince with murder in his eyes.
“Boys! Dinner!” Wendy calls out, then frowns. “Desmond, why are you looking at your brother like that? Honestly, you haven’t changed a bit. Benice, for once. Vince has been looking forward to seeing you for weeks.”
Vince gives us a victorious smile. “Yeah. Be nice, Des.” Then he turns, gives his mother a kiss on the cheeks, and saunters toward the kitchen.
Des, with his arm still around my shoulders, meets my gaze. “Are you okay? I’m sorry about that.”
I narrow my gaze and turn to watch Vince disappear around the corner. “We’re winning that fucking trophy, Des. I don’t care if we have to cheat our way to a victory.”
A surprised laugh tumbles from his lips. He squeezes me close, and for a moment, I think he’s going to kiss me. But he drops his arm and jerks his head to the kitchen, where food and company await.
Tonight, dinner is buffet-style and fairly light in preparation for the massive amounts of food we’ll eat tomorrow. I find myself sitting between Des’s aunt Henrietta and his adoptive brother David, who both end up being lovely dinner companions. David is recently single and tells me he’s looking forward to finally getting his chance as Maude’s race partner.
“Des has had the privilege too long, hasn’t he, Grandma?”
Maude, sitting diagonally across from us, smiles at her grandson. “I was supposed to retire from the race this year.” She winks at me. “But once more won’t hurt.”
I find myself almost enjoying the evening, so long as I stay on the opposite side of the room from Vince and Caitlyn. Tomorrow, I’m going to wipe that smug grin off his face. I came here to hold up my end of the bargain, but after the way Vince spoke to me, the subtle jabs I’ve seen everyone level at Des…
This is personal. Now, I want to win for my own pride.
Later, when Des is constructing his makeshift bed on the floor and I’m fluffing my pillows, I tell him as much. He plops down on the floor and curls his thick arms behind his head, studying me. “I knew you’d be a good race partner. You’re too stubborn and competitive to let me down.”
“We’re winning,” I state, flopping back on the bed. “End of story. Goodnight.”
His warm chuckle curls around me, warming me from the inside out.
My legs are stuckin sticky black tar. My voice is hoarse. My baby is gone, and I can’t get to her. The terror that grips me is like no other, chilling me down to the marrow of my bones, making panic grip my throat with icy fingers. I fall, my hands sinking into the inky muck, and I’m trapped—
“Mia.” Des shakes me awake, his body a looming shadow against the darkness of our room. “Mia, wake up. It’s a dream. It’s not real.”
I sit up, panting, unable to speak. I close my lids and rub the heels of my hands into my eye sockets, trying to get enough oxygen. “I have to check on Bailey,” I say. “I have to make sure she’s okay.”
Expecting Des to try to dissuade me and tell me I’m being ridiculous, I brace myself—but he just says, “I’ll come with you.”
With my top (a new, matching set of button-down navy jammies with white piping,thankyouverymuch) clinging to my damp back, I finger-comb my hair away from my face and follow Des through the garage, up the stairs, and down the long hallway to the back of the house.
I crack the kids’ door open and see Bailey in bed, her eyes closed. Creeping in, I kneel next to her bunk and put my hand on her shoulder, only calming down when I feel her breathing steadily. I rest my head on the edge of the bed, throat tight, exhausted.
A large hand coasts down my back. Des rubs gently, lending me his strength, until I can stand on shaking legs and head back to our room. Shadows climb up the walls and fall across our path. Strange noises echo in the house. I’m jittery and unbalanced, and the only thing tethering me to sanity is Desmond’s warm hand wrapped around mine.
When we’re back in our room, I sit on the edge of the bed and let out a long breath. “You must think I’m ridiculous.”
The bed dips as he sits next to me. “Not even a little bit.”
