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“Oh, shit. I’m sorry, sweetheart. Here.” Grabbing a napkin from the tray—Jesus, he really had thought of everything—Dean dabbed at the spot where the hot chocolate had spilled on her.
“I’m so sorry. I’m such a klutz.” She laughed, because that was what you were supposed to do in situations like this, but the panic was already making a return and she could feel her stomach churning.
“Hey. None of that. Accidents happen.” With her skin clean of the chocolate, he lifted the mug from her hands to inspect the damage. “Doesn’t look like it burned you, but if it hurts, I can go get some cream.”
“No, it’s okay.” In reality, it hurt like hell, but she wasn’t going to inconvenience him by actually saying that out loud.
“MaryAnn, look at me please.”
There was something in his tone she found herself unable to resist. It rang with authority without sounding cruel. He reminded her of Mr. Monroe—Bryant’s brother, James, her old boss—only gentler. Which she hadn’t thought possible, because James Monroe was already one of the nicest, kindest men she’d ever met.
Whatever thatsomethingwas, it pulled her gaze up to meet his, completely against her will. “Yes?”
“Rule Number Three. If you are hurt, I expect you to tell me so we can take care of it. That includes if I do something to hurt your feelings. Emotional hurt is just as important as physical hurt.”
“I’ll try.” And she would. Probably.
Just not about this.
“Good enough for now. Here.” Wiping the mug down with a napkin, he handed it back to her. “What toppings would you like?”
“Um, marshmallows. Please.”
The tray held a little scooper, and he used it to load her mug with so many mini marshmallows, she wondered how she was supposed to drink it. “What else?”
Marshmallows were already a decadence, and she started to tell him she didn’t need anything else. But that was not what came out of her mouth. “Sprinkles?”
“Excellent choice.” The way he beamed at her, you would have thought she’d just answered the winning Jeopardy question instead of asking him to pile more sugar into her already sugar-filled drink. “Do you like peppermint?”
“Yes, but I don’t need…” She trailed off when he plucked a thick peppermint stick from the caboose of the train and stuck it in her mug.
“See, Mr. Stick-in-the-Mud? Nothing wrong with extra toppings.” From behind her mug, Shannon stuck her tongue out at Bryant, who rolled his eyes up toward the ceiling.
“Lord, give me patience to deal with this brat.”
Lifting her own cup to her lips, MaryAnn sipped, as much to hide her smile as anything else. But the moment the sweet concoction hit her tongue, she let out a low moan. “Oh, this is delicious.”
“Thanks.” Beside her, Dean leaned back against the couch and grinned. “It’s my mom’s recipe. I was craving some this morning and had just put everything together in the slow cooker when Bryant called.”
“You don’t strike me as much of a hot chocolate drinker,” MaryAnn said as she took another slow sip.
“I used to be.” His smile tightened around the edges but didn’t falter, making her wonder if she’d insulted him somehow. “All right, the rest of the rules. Number Four: You can go outside, but only if you let me know when you are so much as opening the door, and you will need to stay in the fenced-in portion of the backyard at all times. Number Five: No phone calls, texts, or social media. Which means I’ll need your phone, unfortunately. Bryant will notify any friends or family that you’ve been taken to a safe place, so just give him a list of who you want to notify and he will pass on the message.”
“Okay.” Not that there was anyone, but it was nice of them to offer.
“I think that’s it for now.” Dean’s expression relaxed again, and she felt her own nervous system calm in turn, as if she’d been trained to respond to that smile. “If there’s anything you’re unsure of, ask me, and I’ll be happy to clarify. Otherwise, this is your home as much as it is mine until it’s safe for you to return to your apartment.”
All the questions that had plagued her in the car burned in her chest, demanding she give them a voice. But she pushed them back down into those little boxes inside where she’d learned to hide all her annoying, needy bullshit years ago and offered up a smile of her own. “Thank you. I’m sure this isn’t ideal for you, but I do appreciate you taking me in.”
“Nonsense. This house was built to be a fortress. And it’s way too big for just me, anyway. It’s no trouble at all to have you here for as long as you need it.”
He made it sound like he was simply opening his home to a guest, rather than housing a key witness for the murder trial of the decade. It was soothing and confusing at the same time.
Rising from the couch, Dean picked up the tray with the hot cocoa train and flashed another of those smiles that made her feel, for just a second, like everything might actually be okay. “I’ll give you all a minute.” Tray in hand, he strode out of the living room, disappearing around the corner and into the hall. As soon as he was gone, it felt as though someone had sucked all the warmth from the room, but that was just her being dramatic again. Like always.
“MaryAnn.” Bryant pulled her attention back to him and his earnest gaze. “You’ll be safe here, I promise. And I’ll update Dean as much as I’m able, but I won’t be able to come see you much, if at all. The last thing I want is for Nate to figure out where I’m going and tail me here. But if you need anything at all, just let Dean know and he’ll get it for you, okay?”
She was used to being alone. So why did it feel like her heart was breaking at the thought of not seeing them again, even for just a little while? “I understand. I’ll be fine, Mr. Monroe.”
