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“I’m here to protect you from yourself.”
“I thought that was my job.”
“It was until I found peace and you haven’t.”
Okay, this was getting too deep and there wasn’t enough scotch in the world for him to do this right now. Blane stood.
“Enough,” he said. “Thank you for the information.”
Kade rose to his feet, too, setting his empty glass on the coffee table between them.
“Always,” he said. He strode toward the door, then paused and turned back. “Good luck, brother.” His gaze was too knowing.
Blane gave him a nod and then he was gone. He heard the front door close behind him. Blane tossed back the rest of his scotch, thinking.
There was no reason to tell Anne about any of this, not yet. They had yet to have a second official date. It wasn’t as though he was going to propose tomorrow.
Despite Kade’s dire warnings, Blane still was looking forward to where this relationship could go. Maybe it was unwise to feel so hopeful, but he couldn’t help it. Anne was beautiful, elegant, and had a heart for others. She held herself with an innate grace, even when she’d dumped water in his lap.
Taking out his cell, he pulled up her number for a text message, then struggled with what to text. Didn’t want to appeartooeager.
You look gorgeous today.
He deleted it. Too stalkerish.
Looking forward to seeing you again.
After a moment, he deleted that, too. Too bland and boring.
Hamilton tomorrow night. Do you like musicals?
Okay. That was okay. Pleasant. Referring to their date tomorrow night. Invites a response. He hit Send and waited. After a few moments, there was a response.
You must know people in high places. Tickets are impossible to get.
He grinned, texting back,I like to impress.
That’s been accomplished already.
I’m an overachiever.He followed that up with,Pick you up at seven?
Yes. See you then. Goodnight.
Goodnight.
* * *
Anne’s Monday was very Monday.
Mrs. Levee was back, even more distraught than she had been last week.
“Look at this!” she demanded, shoving her phone toward Anne. “Just look at how I found little Tyrel last night! He hadn’t had a bath in days and his diaper rash was bleeding.” Tears leaked from her eyes and her hand shook slightly.
Anne took the phone and swiped through the photos, her breath pinching in her chest. The toddler was just a bit past two years old and was crying in the photos, his little face puckered up. He’d been teething and she could see a peak of white in his open mouth. The diaper rash was awful and Anne had to fight back her own tears.
“An’ you tellin’ me there ain’t nothing can be done about it?” Mrs. Levee demanded.
“I can report this as an urgent intervention to DFS, especially since you have the photos,” Anne replied, already typing out an email. “Please send me the photos.”
