Sheltering Annie

by Lauren Giordano

  Forcing aside his troubled thoughts, he caught her gaze. She flashed her beautiful smile. Eyes sparkling, her cheeks flushed pink. He wanted to . . . carry her out of there. Take her home with him. Talk all night. Make plans. Make love until they were exhausted. And then do it all again.

  "Hi Pete. Hello, Henry." Annie flashed by on the other side of the counter, hustling trays of dishes. Replenishing the line like a pro.

  "Hello, Miss McKenna." To him, Pete lowered his voice. "You tell her yet?"

  About what? The list of topics was exhaustive. His two-day hunting trip? Bribing and then beating her ex the previous night? The revocation document that would belittle her years of parenting effort? "Not yet."

  Pete chuckled behind him. "Sorta glad I'm not you."

  "I'll try to catch her after lunch," he muttered. In the ten minutes they'd get to talk. Or later that night—when they'd work in the daycare with the boys—with never enough time to discuss anything serious. He'd drive home late, fall into bed, then get up and do it again. Maybe Saturday—his exhausted brain whispered. If he could convince her to come out to the farm again.

  He startled when Annie touched his hand across the stainless steel counter. "I have a surprise for you after lunch." She winked and was gone before he could respond.

  Pete flashed a knowing smile. "Me? I'm hopin' it's pie."

  "HURRY, HENRY." HER honeyed eyes flashed with excitement. "We're on the clock."

  "Love, we shouldn't be doing this." Hank's protest was half-hearted. His brain cells had begun incinerating on the torturous journey to the second floor. Her long legs hurrying up the stairs in front of him. Gorgeous, curvy hips swaying before his eyes. Hips he'd held onto for dear life, only three days earlier—as she'd taken him to heaven.

  "I don't want you to get in trouble- " His breath quickened as Annie unlocked her door, his cock already heavy and aching. By the time she pulled him into her room, his fatigue was forgotten.

  "No time for talking." In seconds, her mouth was sealed to his. His control in shreds, Annie swallowed his groan as her tongue slid into his mouth. She took the kiss deeper, her whimper sending his heart over the ledge where his sanity clung. The thunder in his chest like the reverberation of an M-16. When she left him a moment later, Hank bit back his protest. His brain on life support, his eyes registered her shirt—tossed in the vicinity of the folding chair.

  She returned to him, warm, fragrant skin against his chest. I need to feel her. Forgetting the rules. Forgetting decorum. Forgetting the dining room full of people one floor below them, Hank tugged his shirt over his head. He needed her skin. Hot against his. Her lips, clinging to his. Backed against the door, she lifted her leg to curl around his.

  Her beautiful, curvy butt in his hands, he hoisted her skirt to her waist. Annie was with him all the way, her golden eyes smoky with passion. She unhooked her bra, allowing him to feast on a perfect, pink-tipped nipple.

  "Henry-" Her head rolled back on her exquisite neck, her fingers moving to the zipper of his jeans. "Please-" He tugged harder, reveling in the hard, pebbled tip. Her gasping moan nearly making him come.

  Until his cock sprang free, into the warm hands of the woman he'd lost his damned mind over. "Baby, don't-" His warning was more of a plea as she moved to kneel before him. "I won't last ten seconds," he rasped. Instead, he hoisted her into his arms. Turning, he braced her against the wall, muffling his groan against her breasts as he buried himself inside her. I love you. Gritting his teeth to keep from shouting, he sank into her again. Love you. Love you.

  Annie gasped, her shudder rippling through him like a current. As her body welcomed the hot, hard violation, she clenched around him. His mouth sought her skin. Her drugging scent surrounding them, he nipped the pale, delicate collarbone he loved to nuzzle.

  "Hank—I'm-" Her breath released on a gasp as she tightened her hold on his shoulders, her nails scoring him as she rocked against him.

  "No moaning, love." He stared into glazed honey eyes as her tremors started, realizing she wasn't hearing a damn thing. As his vision faded to sharp points of light, Hank prepared for the mortar to detonate. Leaving her beautiful breasts, he moved to cover her mouth, his tongue thrusting against hers as she stiffened. He swallowed her sharp cry as her body fisted in an unrelenting orgasm. Inhaling a sharp breath, he bit back his groan as he finished deep inside her. Come home with me, Annie. Live with me and never leave.

  He wanted desperately to say it aloud. To remind her how important she'd become. To push her for an answer. But—she knew how he felt. He couldn't pressure her to feel it, too.

  His legs quivering with sudden exhaustion, he slumped against her, her limp body still pressed to the wall. Her panting breath striking his cheek. Afraid he might not have the strength to move, he prolonged the pleasure-pain for several moments. Her lush breast . . . only inches from his mouth.

  "Henry." His name, whispered on a relaxed sigh. Her body still squeezing him, her nipple suddenly tightened under his tongue. Restless, she moved against him. "I love you, Henry."

  As sparks shot through him, he forgot the pain in his knees. His body taking over for any shred of logic, he stirred inside her. A minute later, his breath coming hard and fast, it rolled over him, like a fast moving storm. His hoarse cry muffled against her breast.

  Several minutes later, they staggered to her little bed. Annie slid, boneless, to the floor. None too steady himself, Hank held her arm as she sank down on the bed. "We should have started here."

  Eyes gleaming, her hair tumbling down, her red lips bruised and swollen, she kissed him. "I need a nap, now."

  "I need-" His brain finally re-engaged, he checked his watch. "Hell—to get back downstairs. I've got a meeting in twelve minutes." She smothered her laughter. The joyous sound made him smile, his chest heating with it. Two people, alone for too long—finding each other. It was an incredible gift. One he couldn't let slip away. However long it took—he would wait for her to realize how good they would be together.

  Her sanity returning, her gaze darted to the door. "How loud do you think we were?"

  Adjusting his pants, Hank reached for his shirt. "Loud." He met her gaze, smiling over her blush. Annie was a loving, sexy puzzle. A gorgeous woman, down for a quickie at lunch—and then embarrassed by the wildest, happiest sex he'd had in years. "Hopefully, no one was up here."

  Stifling a yawn, she reluctantly rose from the tiny bed. "I'll be down in a minute. I should be working."

  Hesitating by the door, Hank turned back. "Do I look okay?"

  She closed the three step gap between them. "Except for your shirt being inside-out?" Her fingers trailed over the seams. "You look well-loved, Mr. Freeman."

  Yanking his shirt over his head, he paused. Well-loved. Hopefully, those words would be permanent . . . soon. He wanted her. He wanted her boys. He wanted all of it. "As long as it's by you—I'll take it."

  Lifting up on tiptoes, she planted a soft kiss on his cheek. "Only me."

  LATER THAT EVENING, they'd finished up work in the daycare center. Annie sat at the kids' painting table, nursing her animosity after her conversation with Henry. "So, you're saying that even if I could get Phil to sign away his parental rights-" She swallowed around the painful knot of frustration. He'd given up any rights the first time he'd hit Tommy. "If I could find him—and have an actual conversation . . . without him attacking me," she added. "If all that could be accomplished, then—the state won't allow it?"

  What was the point in trying? Maybe she'd be better off with a lifetime of restraining orders. Learn to protect herself. Live a low-profile life. And hope Phil eventually lost interest in punishing her for his problems.

  Unusually quiet, Hank gathered his tools to leave. "Or you can find a new partner to substitute." He stared at her, the obvious question in his eyes. Why not him? "Then Phil goes away for good—with the least amount of court intervention."

  "It's too much. You know I can't accept it." Her voice hoarse around the painful
admission, she didn't know how to explain her reasons—without appearing as though she were rejecting him. Rejecting his love. The kind, loving man standing before her was offering a lifetime guarantee. Yet—she'd never felt less worthy of it. She hadn't earned it. Didn't deserve it.

  Hank didn't sit down next to her. He continued cleaning up . . . as though he, too, was feeling overwhelmed. "You have the right to your reasons. You have the right to solve your own problems." His voice was dangerously neutral. "To choose a life with me—or decide against it. To think about it . . . for as long as it takes."

  "That's what I'm trying to do." Her voice choked. "Juggle twenty life-altering problems. To somehow rank them . . . in order of importance. To choose any one I can act on with my limited resources."

  "I'm offering a suggestion that can resolve the biggest issue." His eyes glinted with stubbornness. "Buying Phil off might not even work—but, it's an opportunity with a limited window. Before he does something worse that takes it off the table."

  "With you absorbing the entire burden? That's not me solving my problems." She shook her head. "How could you think I'd let you do that? Waste your hard earned money . . ." On her? The perpetual failure?

  Hank lifted his gaze to the ceiling, a hand to the back of his neck as though it ached with the strain she was causing him. "I'd hoped . . . you would consider my assistance as part of the package. Of me loving you . . . and you loving me." His throat rippled around a painful swallow. "That you would trust I'm capable of making my own decisions. To help you. That I'm not doing this out of pity. Or charity."

  "It's too m-much," she whispered, hot tears scalding her throat.

  "So, you say." The flash of sadness in his eyes made her heart stop. "Is anything too much—to protect the person you love?" He nodded to the door, where the sounds of the boys' laughter reached their ears. They'd been lured to the kitchen with the promise of a cookie. "To protect the boys—from a monster?"

  His jaw set, he released a ragged sigh. "I love you, Annie. That means all of you. And . . . if you love me—you get all of me. The good and the bad. It means when I fall down . . . I'll be counting on you to help me up. It means when you have a problem, my heart is going to ache until I can help you resolve it."

  "Hank-" Heart pounding, she had the strangest sensation of loss. Of her blood seeping from her body. Of wanting to cry, but too afraid to look away.

  "What about today?"

  She bit her lip to keep from crying. "What do you mean?"

  His wry smile unfamiliar."Upstairs? When neither of us even thought about protection."

  She drew in a sharp breath. "I—forgot."

  "Does that mean . . . if you became pregnant, I should only pay for that baby?"

  "Henry, no-"

  "I should ignore the boys—because they're not mine?" He studied her, an expression on his face she could no longer read. He moved to the door. "This isn't about jobs or finances or who carries what load. And if that's all it is to you, then . . . maybe we're feeling different things."

  "No-"

  He glanced over his shoulder. "I guess we both need to do some thinking." His brisk tone sent a shiver down her spine. "I'm tired, love. I'll see you tomorrow."

  He left, pausing in the hallway to wave to the boys. To shift his tools when Jason insisted on a hug. The sudden stillness in the daycare, broken by her panicked breaths. By the roaring in her ears. By the vice clutching her jack-hammering heart. Why couldn't she accept what he so freely offered? "What do I want?" More important—what had she done?

  Chapter 18

  Friday dawned, cool and dreary. Rain lashing the windows matched the pounding in Annie's head. She'd lain awake most of the night. Wondering was she the problem? For so long, she'd been strong. She'd acted brave—when reality terrified her. She'd protected her sons at all cost because—that's what mothers did?

  Her heart suddenly galloping, she pressed her fingers to her chest. For the first time, she acknowledged the lie she'd been telling herself. She glanced to the boys' bed—only feet away. Still deeply asleep, she listened to the sound of their breathing. Tears trickled from her eyes, puddling on her pillow before being absorbed.

  "I didn't leave soon enough." Now, with the chance to right all the wrongs she'd caused them—she resisted. She'd found a man so unlike her ex, she had difficulty believing he could be true. Had difficulty believing someone like her—could deserve him. Was worthy of Hank. She was a mother who'd allowed her sons to be abused. Who'd stayed with a monster—exposing them to his wrath. Then, forcing them to leave their home. Kept them on the run for two years. Living in a series of shelters. Yanking Tommy from the stability he craved. Three schools this year.

  The tears flowing freely now, she buried her sobs in the blanket. The boys still had another hour of sleep. Was it pride holding her back? Determination? Or knowledge- "You're not good enough for him."

  Since escaping Phil, she'd been determined not to play the role of victim. To own her terrible mistakes. To plod forward. Work hard and love her kids. To someday earn her way back to happiness. But, she'd never stopped running long enough to figure out when someday would arrive. When she'd finally accept the past—and forgive herself. When she would embrace happiness if she were fortunate enough to discover it.

  Drying her eyes on the sheet, Annie rolled from the bed. Head pounding, she gathered her shower caddy and slipped quietly from the room. Another long day ahead of her.

  FOUR HOURS LATER, ANNIE slogged through another baton class. Her arm burning. Ready to fall off. The pain feeling almost . . . good. She sliced. She attacked. Her feet moving without direction from her brain. On automatic pilot, she responded to Candace's direction. Her brain still listless. No closer to an answer. Yet, nudging further from Henry.

  He'd avoided her that morning. And she'd been too afraid to trail down the corridor to bring him coffee. Not knowing what she would read in his eyes. Hope? Or the resignation she'd seen the previous night. Too afraid to start a conversation when she was no closer to an answer.

  Fifteen minutes later, she returned downstairs, grateful for the mindless task of prepping for lunch. Moving her cart through an endless sea of tables in the nearly empty dining room.

  "Hey—I stopped by earlier, but they said you were in a class."

  Joy coursed through her, heating the endlessly cold place inside. She turned to Hank, a smile on her face. "I missed you at breakfast."

  "I had a conference call—some of the interior finishes are going to be delayed."

  Heart pounding, her brain was too distracted to hear the rest of his words. Grateful eyes noted his smile. The familiar one she loved. She hadn't lost him—yet.

  "Annie? Are you okay?"

  She glanced up, thoughts scattering. "I-I'm fine."

  "I'll be offsite with the roofer for the rest of the day." He paused. "And tomorrow, I've got to get some work done at the farm."

  Did he not want them to come out? Why was she suddenly hesitant to ask? "Okay."

  "Nelson knocked down another post." He shook his head. "Sometimes, I wonder why I keep them." He grabbed his briefcase from the table. "Why don't we talk later about whether you can spend the weekend."

  Relief flooded her. "Right. I'll . . . ask Sharon if we can-" Leave her prison sanctuary. Spend a weekend with the man she loved. Experience a normal life for twenty-four hours. "It should be fine, but I'll double check."

  He brushed her cheek with a kiss before his phone began vibrating. "Okay. Talk to you later."

  FIVE O'CLOCK CAME AND went. Six. Annie frowned at her watch. She'd called him four times. Each time, it had gone to voicemail. The un-Henry-like silence gnawed at her stomach. It wasn't like him. In the past hour, she'd poured over their conversation from the previous night. She'd been so shocked when he'd raised the idea of getting Phil to give up his rights—she'd neglected to ask any questions. Like—how did Henry know a revocation was possible? And how did he know Phil would agree to sign it? She'd focused only on the
insulting part—that she needed a co-sponsor on the document.

  Had he—found Phil? She dialed his number again. Voicemail. Startled, she remembered her conversation with Marisol and Sharon. Sharon had slipped—before catching herself. He might 'a gotten it in his head to go after Phil-

  Now, her heart was pounding an erratic beat. Five calls to voicemail. Where had Hank gone earlier in the week? Missing for two days. Errands, he'd said. She hustled down the corridor, hoping to catch Mari before she left for the night. Hector was playing in the daycare center with her boys.

  She arrived at her office door, breathless, and suddenly—certain. Henry had gone after Phil. "Mari, can I talk to you for a minute?"

  Marisol rose from her chair, reading the expression on her face. "What's wrong, Annie?"

  "Did Hank go after Phil this week?"

  Her friend took a step back, guilt flashing across her face. "I've heard . . . something like that."

  "He's not answering his phone. He's . . . n-never done that." Annie ignored the quaver in her voice. "I can't shake the feeling-" She swallowed around the fear rising in her throat. The sensation she couldn't shake. The whispery terror that crossed her neck . . . whenever Phil was nearby. "I think he's in danger."

  Marisol's eyes widened. "I'm sure he's fine."

  "I need to go to him."

  "Annie—that's not wise. Phil has been here . . . several times."

  "Hank won't know what to expect," she whispered. "Marisol, please-" She caught her breath. "I'm begging you. Can y-you take the boys home with you? Can they s-sleep over?" Frantic with the worry assaulting her senses, she flopped into the chair across from her desk. He'd gone after Phil. The two days off—had been about her. His exhaustion when he returned. "If he's fine, I'll—come right back. I'll pick up the boys. I don't want to burden-"