His to Protect: A Fireside Novel (4 page)

Friday mornings were my busiest mornings at the restaurant. That morning, I was more tired than usual as I sifted through my accounting program, doing payroll.

I fully understood how to cook a burger and take care of a kitchen and keep a restaurant stocked with alcohol and food, but payroll was a bitch. All of this office shit I had to take care of myself until I could hire someone to do it for me made my head pound like I’d spent all night with a bottle of tequila in one hand.

The headache was worse today, though, and it wasn’t just from payroll problems and a printer that was currently refusing to print the checks correctly. I needed to upgrade to direct deposit, but again…expenses.

“Fuck it,” I muttered and dropped my head into my hands, elbows propped on my desk. Rubbing my head, I squeezed my eyes closed and tried to erase the memory of Trina—and the way she looked so vulnerable as she pulled away from me last night—from my mind.

It’d been a fruitless endeavor ever since I climbed into the cab of my pickup and made the short drive home.

I pressed my fingertips against my closed eyes, trying to push her out of my memory, but when I opened them, I saw the stool she’d sat on and the menu she’d perused and tapped with her finger.

Pushing back from my desk with more force than necessary, I snagged the inventory clipboard hanging from a nail on the wall, and decided payroll could wait.

I needed to be focused and I was anything but.

“Hey, Declan,” one of my prep cooks, Matthew, called out as I walked by him.

“Yeah?”

He tilted a green basket in my direction and frowned. “Almost out of tomatoes.”

I made a grunting noise and scribbled a note on the spreadsheet in front of me. We didn’t have enough to last us the day if I was judging correctly. “I’ll get you cash and you can head to the store to pick some up.”

Matthew’s eyes widened briefly with concern before he set the basket back down. “Sounds good.”

Normally, I had the art of inventory and ordering down to a science, but there were always weeks where something randomly came up short.

If only I were psychic and knew what customers would order. I never would have guessed we’d have a surge in lasagna orders this week. I chalked it up to fall setting in, and the cooler days and chilly nights making more customers want comfort food.

Then I made a note on the inventory sheet and I wished I could hide in the dry-foods closet until the Friday afternoon lunch rush, when I could lose myself in cooking instead of planning and worrying.

“Come in,” I called out when I heard a knock on my office door while I sealed the last payroll envelope. After finally fixing the printer jam, I was now officially caught up on paperwork.

“Declan?”

I looked at Emily in the doorway as she stuck her head in.

“Yes?”

“There’s someone here to see you.”

Her blonde brows knit together and she opened the door further. Stepping in, she looked back toward the kitchen doors before lowering her voice. “She, um…well. I don’t know who she is. She won’t tell me.”

Trina.

I pushed back from my desk and got up, then led Emily out of my office with my hand on her lower back as she turned. “Thank you, Emily. I’ve got this.”

“Um, she looks not okay.”

My gaze cut to hers and I stopped walking. “What do you mean?”

Emily had been at Fireside from the beginning. She was much younger than me at only twenty-two, and worked as a hostess and waitress to help pay for college. She was always on time and responsible, and was the kind of woman who would stop on the side of the road to pick up stray animals.

Or people.

I saw her worry for Trina increase with every passing second.

“Is she hurt?” I asked and looked out through the small glass window in the kitchen doors at entrance to the dining area.

As I expected, Trina was in the entryway, hands clasped in front of her. Her eyes roamed the area without stopping. Without really knowing her at all, I could tell she was tense from the flickering of her eyes and the tightness of her shoulders.

“She has a bruise,” Emily whispered, looking toward the cooks, who were efficiently preparing late lunch orders.

“I know. I saw it.”

“You know her?”

“Met her last night,” I replied, walking around her. “She’s the one who’s been making a mess in the alley.”

I heard Emily’s shocked gasp as I pushed through the doors. The sound grabbed Trina’s attention and her head snapped in my direction.

For a moment, all I could think about was why she was here. Why did she walk away from me and everything I offered her the night before, only to return looking like a rumpled mess?

That same strange sensation I had last night sparked in my chest when I reached her.

“What happened?” I snapped, and cursed myself when she flinched.

Taking a step back, Trina’s gaze flickered around the restaurant before coming back and meeting mine.

“I, um…” She paused and sucked her lip between her teeth, worrying her flesh before letting go. “I thought maybe you could help me.” Her voice was soft. Meek and scared.

It made me want to growl like a fucking animal.

I almost did when her eyes became wet with unshed tears.

Without thinking about scaring her, I wrapped my hand around her bicep and pulled her toward the bar.

She flinched from my quick grip and I let go, feeling like a grade-A asshole. “Sorry. I think we should talk by the bar. There’s less noise.”

And more privacy, because it was empty, which wasn’t rare early in the afternoon.

It’d be packed on the weekend. Detroit doesn’t have the best NFL team, but fans were still rabid. And that was a tame description when it came to the U of M and MSU fans that flocked to bars to watch the two college football teams battle it out. With Detroit being just far enough away from Ann Arbor and Lansing, a lot of people in the area didn’t make it to the games as much as they wanted to.

But they did appreciate my ninety-six-inch projection television on the far wall of the bar.

It was the best place in town to watch a game, and one of the only reasons I hadn’t gone bankrupt yet.

“Charlie.” The young bartender looked up and grinned when I called his name.

“What can I do for you, boss?”

I nodded my head toward Trina. “Get lost and give me five minutes out here.”

He frowned, but the kid was too friendly all the damn time to care that I just kicked him to the break room. “You got it,” he said and tossed his towel by the sink behind the bar. “You want privacy with your lady friend, I’ll let you have privacy.”

The sexual innuendo laced in his voice was as obvious as the sky was blue.

I felt Trina’s embarrassment heating the small space between us.

“Get the hell out of here or you’re fired.”

“You threaten me with that at least once a week.” He walked away and let the hinged panel of the bar slam down, instead of closing it slowly. One more thing I could fire the guy for.

Except women thought he was cute and he knew how to flirt. It was good for tips and business.

Plus, I actually liked the little shit.

“One of these times I’m going to mean it.”

“Promises, promises,” he sang teasingly as he walked away.

Shaking my head, I couldn’t suppress a small grin. I gestured to Trina. “Have a seat and talk.”

She listened and something inside me liked the fact that even if I scared her some, even if she was uncertain, she still listened without challenging me.

There was a time when I liked that about a woman. Someone who trusted me.

Not only with her heart, but her body.

But that was a long time ago and I had learned too much about women since then.

Mostly that they held on to their bitterness and concealed it behind happy smiles well enough that you never knew anything was wrong until they decided to strike.

Then you were filling out divorce paperwork and discussing how to move on from a decision you had thought was permanent.

And
wow
…that was a pathetic leap to somewhere I never let myself go anymore.

Shaking my head, I slid out a stool next to Trina, then pushed it back to put more space between us.

“Where’s Boomer?” I asked when Trina let too much time pass and hadn’t started talking.

This close to her, I could see more than just dark circles beneath her eyes. Her skin was pale and makeup-free, making her healing bruise seem even worse. Her hair was pulled up in a ponytail high on her head, but still fell well past her shoulders.

It was messy, as if she threw it up in a hurry.

“He’s outside. Out back, actually.” She jerked her head away from the television showing an afternoon talk show and cringed. “I didn’t think you’d mind. But he’ll stay there. He’s tied up.”

I waved her off. “He’s fine. I’ll have someone bring him some water in a minute.”

She responded with a twitch of her lips, and her shoulders relaxed. She blew out a breath between pursed lips, and when she spoke again, she shocked the living hell out of me.

“I thought I could take you up on your offer.”

My eyebrows lifted. “Offer?”

“Last night. You offered me a place to stay. I’d like to accept as long as…you know…you meant the other thing you said.”

Her cheeks pinkened and she looked down at her lap.

I had to fight back a laugh. The “no fucking where I shit” rule.

Of course.

“Why?”

Another beat of silence that lasted too long. She twisted her fingers together, cracking her knuckles, and said nothing.

“Trina. If you need help, you’ve got it. No strings, I swear, but I need something from you here, too.”

Her head snapped up. “Like what?”

“Like some honesty. What changed between last night and this afternoon?”

Her gaze darted around the room again, and I stiffened for a worst-case scenario.

Like, the asshole who beat her had come back. Why else would she come to me?

“A sudden change in plans,” she finally said, giving me a truth that dripped with hidden secrets. Which would normally be fine, but…

“If you’re pulling me into the middle of some domestic drama, I think I have a reason to expect the truth when I ask for it.”

My tone was firm. Deep. My voice a bit raspy. I got a flash of the last time I told a woman to get on her knees for me, using that same voice, and then another memory as the thrill of her obedience washed over me.

My skin began to prickle with heat at the thought, at the memory, something Mara never appreciated.

I tried to push that thought away, to focus on the woman in front of me.

The abused woman.

Reality splashed over me like the old ice-bucket challenge.

She nodded and licked her lips. When she opened her mouth to speak, her words came out in a barely audible whisper. “I’ve been planning on heading somewhere far away…where doesn’t matter, I don’t think.” She arched a brow and paused. I waved a hand telling her to continue. Where she was going didn’t matter. “Last night I got back to my hotel and it had been trashed. All my cash and my passport were gone.”

Her chin trembled…and
fuck
…

“So,” she said, fighting the tears filling her eyes. “I need a place to crash. Somewhere for a few days so I can figure out what to do next.”

“Did you call the police?” I asked, and watched the blood drain from her cheeks.

“No. No cops.”

“Trina—”

She lifted a hand and stopped me. The seriousness in her expression was the most confident I’d seen her yet. “No, absolutely no cops. I can’t.”

I raised my hands in surrender. “That’s all you need, then? Just a place to crash? How will you get money?”

She shrugged and her lips twisted. “Haven’t figured that out yet. But I will, and I swear I won’t be an inconvenience or any trouble. Honest.”

As much as I wanted to believe her, I couldn’t.

She might not have planned on being any trouble for me, but I had the sinking feeling I was about to walk into a situation that would end up being one huge disaster.

Not just because she was clearly running from someone, but because of how she made me feel…

Tempted. Aroused.

And there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it.

But even knowing I was about to jump straight into a heap of trouble I didn’t need, I still found myself grinning softly, and said, “Told you last night. Anytime you need help, I’m here.”

“Your place is really nice,” she said as she walked in. Next to her, Boomer was on a leash, his tail whipping back and forth with excitement.

“It’s not much,” I admitted, dropping my keys into a ceramic bowl Mara had picked out and left behind. Purple fucking flowers. I hated the thing, yet hadn’t gotten rid of anything she bought yet.

Not for sentimental reasons. There was nothing sentimental about my feelings for Mara.

I hadn’t had the time.

Seeing another woman walk into my home for the first time in six months made me want to find the time.

Why? Who the fuck knew? I sure didn’t.

She turned and looked at me, and her wistful expression and soft eyes tightened my chest into knots. I knew exactly what she saw, because my home was like most of the homes in Latham Hills, especially those closest to the downtown area.

It was a small, three-bedroom two-story. It was also old, with curved and arched doorways and cramped, small rooms. Open-concept wasn’t a thing back in the late forties when the house was built, so all the rooms were walled off.

“Backyard is this way.” I pointed past the living room and all the decorations that Mara had bought, thinking that if I sold everything, I could probably pay the lease on Fireside for at least two months. The woman had expensive tastes and had never adjusted to a tight budget. I allowed it because it made her happy.

At least I’d thought it did.

When I reached the sliding-glass door, I pulled open the vertical blinds, the clatter of plastic on plastic the only sound in the room until Boomer began to whine and press his nose against the glass. I flipped on the outdoor lights and slid the door open.