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Roman tilted his head. It was as much concession as she’d probably get. “You could still talk to someone else if you get overwhelmed. Someone you trust.”
“Maybe,” she said, and that was as much concession ashe’dget.
“At the risk of you telling me not to baby you, can I give you a ride home?”
Her heart, and a few places due south, screeched at her to say yes. But she’d already put him out enough for one day. “No, thank you. I’ll be fine.”
“I know you’ll be fine,” Roman said, “but my mother kind of drilled my manners into me, so I’d still really like to see you home safely.”
Camila shook her head. “That’s kind, but not necessary. You can tell your mother I let you off the hook.”
A flicker moved through Roman’s stare, there and then gone. “She died nine years ago. She’d been unwell for a while,” he added, although it didn’t lessen the pang in Camila’s chest.
“I’m sorry,” she said, and he nodded.
“Me, too.”
For a second, she considered giving in and letting him drive her home. But she was perfectly capable of getting from Point A to Point B on her own, so she said, “Thanks again for the company, Roman.”
Picking up her purse, Camila stood for the first time in hours…and promptly succumbed to a massive head rush.
“Whoa.” She blinked to offset the dizziness that had temporarily taken over her senses, reaching out to place a steadying hand on the back of the chair she’d just vacated.
But Roman got there first. “Camila? Are you okay?” he asked, and wow, how had he wrapped his arm around her so fast?
“Yeah, I…” She blinked again. “Guess standing up so quickly after two margaritas and a bump on the head was a bit of a bad plan.”
“Okay.” He shook his head, turning toward the door. “Come on.”
“You don’t—”
“Need to baby you, I get it,” he said, his torso deliciously warm against her body, and God, he even smelled good. “But I’m also not going to let you get into an Uber with some random driver who will just drop you off on the street. My car is a block from the precinct. Let me get you home safely.Please.”
Camila opened her mouth to tell him she’d be fine. Her dizziness was already subsiding, her legs feeling stronger beneath her. But as much as she hated it (and oh, how she hated it), Roman was right.
She’d been held at gunpoint. Suffered an injury, albeit not a huge one. Had the crap scared out of her, and all of thatwastraumatic.
Maybe she could use just a little more solidarity.
“Okay,” she said. “But it was just a tiny head rush. Honestly. I’m not going to fall over or anything.”
Roman’s body stiffened against hers, as if he’d just realized how much they were touching. “Right.” Moving with care, he eased back, and disappointment surged through her at the loss of his solid warmth.
God, she needed to get a grip. Figuratively. “See? I just stood up too fast.”
“Mmm. We can still take it slow.”
They walked out of the restaurant and into the afternoon sunshine. Roman stayed close, but he also didn’t walk as quickly as they had on their way here, and for that, Camila was glad. She let him lead the way back in the direction of the Thirty-Third, slowing to a stop beside him as he popped the locks on a dark blue BMW sedan.
“Here,” he said, opening the passenger door for her, then waiting for her to slide into the seat. But just as she had when he’d encouraged her to eat, she felt more cared for than babied at the gesture, and the warmth lingered with her as he got in and started the car.
“Okay. I’ll admit it,” Camila said. “Your mother was right.”
A smile ghosted over Roman’s lips, softening his serious expression. “She always was. Thanks for letting me bring you home.”
“Thanks for taking me,” Camila said. They got through the logistics of putting her address into his GPS, and a few seconds later, they were on their way.
Roman was quiet, but only for a minute before he surprised her with, “I’m going to do everything I can to catch the men who robbed that bank and hurt you. They’re not going to get away with threatening people at gunpoint or stealing all that money.”
