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Trenton tried to tug it away gently, but her hand didn’t budge. “Let me help with it. You’ve had a long day.”
“No, it’s my stuff. I’ve got it.” She pulled it from him, hooking the longest strap over her shoulder, where it slid down the fabric of his jacket. She clutched it to her with a frown.
Trenton swallowed his smile. With her hair still damp and his jacket swamping her, she was pretty cute. Like a little girl playing dress up.
“I forgot I had that on,” she muttered, placing her bag on the floor long enough to shrug out of the jacket and hand it to him. Then the duffel was back on her shoulder.
“Go wait by the door,” Malcolm said, shooing her away. “I have something to tell Trent.”
Celia’s eyes narrowed on her cousin. “I thought you said you trusted him.”
Malcolm rolled his eyes. “Not everything’s about you, Celia.”
All expression fell from her face. “Right.”
Malcolm winced. “I didn’t mean anything by that.”
Celia smiled, a forced one, as she waved a hand at him. “It’s fine.” She turned her back, walking to the exit of the tavern and gazing out of the glass in the door.
“Damn it,” Malcolm muttered under his breath. Then he turned his gaze to Trenton. “I don’t have to tell you to keep your hands off her, do I?”
“No,” Trenton said. He glanced back to where she stood before the door. The woman had her own sign telling others to keep their distance. “You know I’m not looking for anything like that.”
“Good.” Malcolm sighed. “Well, not good for you, but Celia doesn’t need that right now.” He stared over at his cousin. “I get the feeling I should bash the fiancé’s teeth in, despite her claims otherwise.”
Trenton shook his head at his friend. “Violence doesn’t fix things. I thought you’d learned that by now.”
“It would make me feel better.”
Trenton continued to study Malcolm. “Can I ask you a question?”
Malcolm nodded.
“Why not offer her the guest room at your place?”
Malcolm’s smile faded. “She wouldn’t be comfortable there.” He grabbed the used glasses, turning away. “Now, go on. She’s exhausted.”
Trenton stared at his friend a moment more before saying good night, ignoring Blake’s thumbs-up from across the room. “You ready?” he asked again, and Celia silently opened the door to step outside. Trenton bent to grab his umbrella, where it still dripped nearby, and followed her out.
He opened it, holding it above her and stepping closer. “Here, no need to get even more wet.”
She stiffened, taking a step away. “I’m not sure that’s possible. Besides, share it and you’ll end up soaked yourself.”
Trenton started to protest, but noticed the tremor in the hand that clutched her bag. It wasn’t fear. No, she had enough spark not to be afraid of him. She was simply exhausted. “Then wait here under the overhang. I’ll bring the car up.”
“I won’t melt,” she said.
“That doesn’t mean my seats need to be soaked,” Trenton said, though he didn’t truly care. She stopped arguing. He handed her his coat again. “And use that to sit on.” Without waiting, he strode into the rain with the umbrella. His car wasn’t that far, but it was still pouring out. She was going to get sick if she pushed herself more tonight.
He maneuvered the umbrella closed, tucking it into the back seat, and slid into the driver’s seat. He turned the vents down from blasting AC and went to pick up his stubborn new roommate.
Trenton started to hop out to help her, but she had the duffel bag in the back seat and was closing the passenger door before he could fully put the car into park. She did end up sitting on his jacket. It was long enough that she could wear it over her shoulders again and still sit on it. He didn’t even have to tell her to put on her seat belt. She had a conscientious streak, he’d already noticed.
“I don’t live too far,” Trenton told her as he pulled out of the parking lot. She made a sound in her throat to tell him she’d heard, but otherwise the drive was silent. The downtown area slid past, and he turned onto his street.
“Wait, you live in this neighborhood?” Celia asked.
“Yes.” Trenton was a little surprised the car ride hadn’t put her to sleep. He glanced over, his own hands tightening on the steering wheel when he saw hers had turned white where they gripped his coat. “Is that a problem?”
