His to Protect: A Fireside Novel

by Stacey Lynn

  I knew in that moment that nothing would ever be the same again.

  I didn’t want it to be. I wanted to hold on to this incredible man for as long as he’d let me.

  —

  The fall air was brisk as the ferry pushed through the swells of Lake Michigan. I didn’t know what to expect when Declan first brought up the idea of this trip ending with a ferry ride across one of the Great Lakes.

  I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t been nervous. The idea of being on a boat on a huge lake was more than a bit frightening for someone who wasn’t all that thrilled with large bodies of water.

  This was more than cool, though. The ship was large, and seemed to be three stories high. Below the passenger decks, my new-to-me, but older-than-dirt Ford Explorer safely sat with dozens of other cars and trucks.

  We’d done it. We hadn’t heard from Tyson if he’d been able to find any information about Kevin yet, but I was choosing not to think about that today.

  Not after the incredible morning Declan and I had.

  A smile formed on my lips as the wind whipped my hair behind my shoulders.

  “You still grinning about getting your way with the Ford?” Declan wrapped his arm around my waist and tugged me toward him.

  I turned to him, putting the boat’s railing behind me, and faced him fully.

  My smile widened. “I wasn’t. But I am now.”

  He shook his head and I couldn’t help but laugh again. I’d been laughing about our argument at the dealership for the last several hours. When we pulled into another run-down dealership’s parking lot early this morning, after we’d finally untangled ourselves from the sheets of our bed, caught the train from Chicago, and then took a taxi, my eyes immediately fell on a gray Ford Explorer.

  It was basic and nondescript, and would blend in easily, because I always saw Explorers on the road. It was also cheap enough that I still had a couple of grand left over from the check from the sale of my convertible, which Declan had deposited late last night.

  Declan immediately steered me toward a newer Tahoe.

  I dragged him back to the Explorer.

  Thus a tug-of-war over two different vehicles began in the parking lot, leaving the salesman more than a little frustrated with the way Declan and I bickered like an old married couple.

  But it had felt good, knowing I could speak my mind and fight for what I wanted and not worry about consequences. A part of me still wondered if that was why Declan allowed the ridiculous argument to continue for as long as it did.

  Just to prove I was safe with him.

  Eventually, he sighed and looked at the sky. With an exaggerated eye roll, he then said, “Your money, your car, but it’ll be in my garage getting fixed and repaired more than it’ll be on the road taking you where you need to go.”

  I didn’t think the idea of having my car in his garage, which would mean spending more time with him, was such a bad thing.

  “You’ll fall in love with Betsy someday.” I tipped my head back so I could look Declan in the eyes. Taking one hand from the rail, I pressed it against his chest.

  “Christ.” He looked down at me. “You’ve named that hunk of junk Betsy? She’ll break down on the side of the road and leave you stranded.”

  My fingers curled into his shirt and I pulled him forward. After making love to Declan this morning, I couldn’t keep my hands off of him. In one way or another, we’d been touching since we walked out of the hotel room. I liked that he seemed to feel the need to touch me just as often as I wanted to touch him. His hand settled on my waist and his fingers curled into the thin fabric of my tie-dyed maxi dress. “Then you’ll just have to save me.”

  His eyes darkened and he licked his lips. “Speaking of that—”

  “I don’t want to talk about it today,” I said, interrupting him.

  His thick, dark brows came together. “Trina, we have to.”

  “Did Tyson find anything yet?”

  The way he glanced at the water behind me told me everything I needed to know.

  “Then there’s nothing to talk about.” My fingers curled into his shirt harder and I tugged him toward me until his attention was focused on me again. I could see the blue water and the bright sun reflecting in his concerned eyes. “We’ll figure it out, but I’m not going to run from Kevin anymore. I’ve been thinking that as soon as I get back, I should find an attorney, or make some calls to Kentucky, so I can figure out how to start the divorce process.”

  A muscle jumped in his cheek and his gaze narrowed. “You sure you want to do that?”

  I had to. Leaving Kevin officially wasn’t just an option, but a necessity. “At the very least, once he hears that I’m doing this, it will bring him out of the woodwork. Until then, though, I’d like to not talk about him. Spend more time thinking about us.”

  “Us?” His eyebrow rose, along with one side of his lips.

  The anticipation in his deep voice erased any nervousness I might have had, which was minimal anyway. Declan made it clear this morning that he wanted me. “I’ve been thinking that maybe heading to Canada isn’t such a great idea.”

  His shoulders fell, and I knew he’d been worried about this, about me still choosing to leave him.

  Instead of answering with words, his forehead dropped to mine and his hands squeezed both my hips, pulling me as close to his body as I could get. I wrapped my arms around his waist and pressed my cheek to his chest.

  “I’ll keep you safe, Trina. I swear it.”

  I didn’t have to respond. I already knew he would. So I answered him much the same way he had answered me. I pulled him close, held him tight, and hoped like the dickens that we figured out a way to get me free and clear of Kevin before he found me.

  Chapter 14

  Declan

  Only seen you look at one woman like that before…this one deserves to be looked at like that.

  Fuck. When David said that to me as I walked him out of the hotel room, those words had pierced my chest strong and true. He’d seen my relationship with Mara from the beginning. Aidan had, too. While Aidan had never said much about Mara when she was my girlfriend and then my fiancée and then my wife, David had quietly objected to our relationship from the start. When we got engaged, David made it completely clear that he thought it was a bad idea, that he didn’t think Mara was really willing to sacrifice everything she’d had to settle down with a guy whose dream was to own a bar, but then he shut his mouth, after I shut it for him—with my fist.

  It wasn’t the first time we’d come to blows, but it had never happened over a woman before.

  Fortunately, David never mentioned it again, and even stood up as a groomsman at my wedding. That one night, that one argument, hadn’t changed our friendship in the least.

  When my marriage ended, and I was shaken by the fallout, David had been there for me as much as possible, and never threw my decision in my face. He never mentioned that he’d been right.

  The fact that Trina gained his approval in such a minuscule amount of time made me even more confident in my decision to be with her than I already was.

  The way her body felt in my hands that morning cemented that decision further. Her body was made for my hands to touch. She fit me perfectly.

  Even when we were arguing.

  My hands wrapped around the steering wheel of her new SUV. I smirked. Betsy.

  I shook my head and looked around the interior.

  Gray Ford Explorer. Boring. Safe enough. She had called the rust stains over the rear tire well and back bumper “character.”

  I wanted her to get the Tahoe. Bigger. Safer. Cleaner.

  She’d smiled at me, even while looking like she wanted to stomp her foot on the pavement.

  I eventually yielded because a quick Internet search on my phone proved there were more Explorers on the road, and her goal was to blend in as much as possible. She didn’t want flashy, and no way would Morgenson expect his wife to be driving around in a rust-speckled Ford.
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  I yielded because I was quickly learning that when Trina smiled it made me want to give her whatever I could, so that I’d keep seeing those smiles shot in my direction.

  I yielded because I knew, without her even saying it, that she hadn’t gotten to make a lot of decisions over the last few years, and what in the fuck did I care what kind of car she drove? When it broke down, which this piece of metal was certain to do, frequently, it meant she would be in my house or my garage while I worked on fixing it back up.

  I was learning that I not only wanted to see her smile and to hear those laughs of hers that hit me in the gut every time she let one loose, I wanted her close.

  All the time.

  Now she was thinking of not leaving for Canada.

  Worked for me.

  “I’ve been thinking,” I said, and reached for the volume knob to turn down the shrieking noise. She’d been quietly humming along with the radio for the last…too damn long.

  “Sounds like it might have hurt you.”

  I flashed her a grin. She was teasing me more often, becoming more comfortable around me. The fact she was teasing anyone at all told me she was shedding her fear—one laugh, one sarcastic comment at a time. It fucking thrilled me that I was the one bringing it out of her.

  “Shush.” I reached over, placed my hand on her knee, and gave her a firm squeeze. She covered my hand with hers and laced our fingers together. “I’m thinking that you shouldn’t work whenever I need you at Fireside anymore.”

  When I glanced at her again, taking my eyes off the road for only a few seconds, a line furrowed her brow.

  “What do you mean?” she asked.

  “You had some great ideas with the marketing and promo, shit I don’t know anything about, plus you’ve saved me hours by working in the office. I want to bring you on part-time. You can fill in on the floor when we need extra hands, but when we don’t, you can figure out how to save my restaurant.”

  “That’s a lot of responsibility,” she said, her voice a bit softer than normal. When I glanced at her again, though, I didn’t see fear. I saw hope. She was already thinking of ways to prove herself.

  “You in? I don’t know if I can pay you much. You’ve seen my accounts.”

  “It’s fine,” she said. “I mean, whatever you can swing would be great, and I’ll still get tips…”

  Her voice trailed off and her teeth clamped down on her bottom lip. When her hand on mine loosened and she started to pull it away, I gripped her tighter. “What is it?”

  “Well.” Her lips twisted to the side. Something inside me twisted and turned along with them. “I’m thinking that if I’m staying, I should probably look for a place to live.”

  I didn’t want her going anywhere. I liked her in my home, settled and safe. “But there’s no way I can get approved for something, not now, anyway.”

  She frowned and looked out the window. I instantly detected her sadness, mixed with an anger I hadn’t previously seen.

  “I hate him,” she whispered. Her quiet words were clipped with fury. “I was always taught not to hate because there’s good in everybody. But the only thing good about Kevin is his wallet, and even that’s tainted and worthless if it’s in the pocket of the kind of man he is.”

  I knew she was talking more to herself than to me, but I couldn’t deny the pride that surged through me at her quietly confident words.

  “Blue,” I said, an idea instantly blooming.

  Her head jerked and she twisted toward me. “What?”

  “Blue. Tyson just asked her to move in with him, and she’s got a great pad at an apartment complex in Latham Hills. Gated entrance with twenty-four-hour security guards. Tags for resident’s cars, outside security cameras, and an indoor alarm system in all the units. I bet she’ll let you sublease if you want, until you can find something else, wherever you want to go, but you’ll be safe there.”

  Her head tilted and that frown increased. “You think I should do that?”

  No. Absolutely not. I wanted her in my bed. In my house. I liked waking up to her. I liked it when I came back from a run, or came up from my gym in the basement, and the first thing I saw was her, drinking coffee, reading the paper, or frying bacon at the stove. Took my breath away every time.

  “I want you to be where you’re most comfortable. I want you at my place,” I admitted. “I like you there.” I squeezed her hand to reassure her. “But if you want your own place, something to call yours, then I don’t see why that would be a problem.”

  “Unless they don’t allow dogs.”

  “They do,” I told her. “You decide and we can talk to Blue when we get home if you want. But I know that she was going to have to find someone to cover her lease or else pay the penalty fee for canceling early. Plus, this way, she can probably leave her furniture for you, since Tyson’s got everything.”

  She smiled and a wistful expression flashed in her eyes. Fuck. She was thinking about this. She wanted this. A place to call hers.

  I couldn’t blame her, either.

  A slow breath parted her lips and then she licked them, looking down at our clasped hands before dragging her eyes to meet mine. When she did, she gave my hand a small but firm squeeze. “I’ll have to think about it.”

  I wanted to talk her out of it.

  But just like with the Explorer earlier, Trina needed to be the one to make this decision.

  She had always had someone telling her what to do, where to be…who to be.

  I couldn’t be that guy.

  I did it once with Mara and it ended in disaster.

  And I already knew I wanted Trina more than I could ever remember wanting Mara.

  Chapter 15

  Trina

  “This place is really nice,” I said, spinning in a slow circle. The apartment wasn’t anything special. Plain beige walls, a kitchen with a walk-in pantry, and a short bar area leading to a small dining area where Blue had a circular glass table with only two chairs. That led to the living room, where I was standing. Through the windows I saw the complex’s large outdoor pool and the nearby hot tub, both of which were already closed down for the fall and winter.

  The thing I liked about the apartment was the way Blue had decorated. Shabby-chic pieces mixed with vintage pieces that she’d found at thrift stores or refinished herself spread a calming sensation, a “homey” feeling, into every corner, onto every piece of furniture inside this cookie-cutter apartment.

  I loved it.

  I wanted it.

  I wanted to have something just like this someday, with my own furniture, where I could enter the house, drop my purse on the floor, kick off my shoes just inside the doorway, and curl up on an overly plush couch with an even softer chenille blanket.

  I wanted to end a hard day of work with the satisfaction that came from knowing that not only did I work hard, but that I enjoyed myself, in a place that was comfortable and safe.

  “Yeah,” she said, a bit softly. “I had fun getting this place just the way I wanted it.” She shrugged and took a seat on the couch. “But, you know, Tyson’s place is nice, too.”

  It was, and it was close to Declan’s. I saw Tyson’s small ranch last week, when we dropped off Boomer before heading to Chicago. Tyson’s house and Declan’s were only a few streets away from each other.

  “Don’t you want to take the furniture with you?”

  She looked around the small but gorgeous living area and sighed. “Eventually, maybe. Tyson says I can bring anything I want as long as it doesn’t have pink in it.”

  She smiled and ran her hands over a homemade quilt next to her.

  My nose crinkled. “That’s salmon, not pink.”

  She chuckled, and when she looked at me, her blue eyes were lit with humor. “That’s exactly what I told Tyson. He’s not buying it.”

  “Men.” I smirked.

  “Speaking of men,” she said, leaning forward. “Tell me more about you and Declan.”

  I felt my cheeks and ne
ck heat and looked out the window. It’d been so long since I’d had friends who allowed me to dish about guys. Not since college. Heck, it’d been since college that there’d been a guy I wanted to discuss.

  Before I could answer, Blue said, “I’m surprised you’re interested in my apartment.”

  At my confused expression, she stood up and headed toward the kitchen. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you’re here. And if you want this place, trust me, it’s all yours. I just thought things were going well for you at Declan’s place.”

  “They are.”

  And they were.

  Yet there was something about being at his house, and being in his bed, where he’d wanted me every night since we returned from Chicago a few days ago, that had me terrified.

  I just left one horrible, nasty marriage, only to fall in bed with the first guy that came along.

  He was a great guy. The kind of guy I wanted, but some mornings I woke up and wondered if I needed to take a step back.

  Be by myself for a while.

  I explained this to Gabriella, hesitantly at first, since she was dating one of Declan’s best friends, but the words began to flow quickly with the encouragement of her understanding and compassionate gaze.

  When I was done, she simply slid me a glass of the Pinot Noir that she’d uncorked and allowed to breathe while I spoke, and then poured her own.

  “I get it. I do,” she said after taking a sip. “Yet I also know that the first time Tyson and I ran into each other this spring, I knew he was the one for me. We were separated for months, partly due to my own stubbornness, and while we’re fine now, I still sometimes wonder where we’d be if I hadn’t just believed in what I felt for him.”

  “I guess the problem is the last time I felt anything good for a man, it didn’t end so well.” I took a sip of my wine and glanced away from her. There was a difference between compassion and pity, and I didn’t want to risk seeing the pity that might be in her gaze. “Besides,” I continued, “You and Tyson had a history. He was your high school boyfriend, too.”