by D. A. Young
“Get that overactive imagination out of the gutter, Mr. Carlton, because I can assure you anything remotely resembling that scenario ain’t happenin’ between us,” Annabelle shot back as she turned back to him. Why she was shocked by what he was working with, Annabelle wasn’t even sure. He was big everywhere else.
His cocky laugh infuriated her and simultaneously accelerated her heart rate as well. “You sure about that? That’d be a real shame if nothing ever happened because in my mind, you are enjoying yourself immensely, Ms. Gaines. Oh, and you’re wearing your stethoscope and lab coat…but nothing else.”
She didn’t doubt that bold statement for one moment. Annabelle’s plea was a mix between a half-strangled moan and laugh as she beseeched him. “Would you please be serious?! Take your fuckboy level from seven down to zero and let’s attempt to have a normal conversation.”
“Fuckboy is a step up from ‘Mr. Smash and Pass’, so I’ll take it.” Graham shrugged his shoulders unconcernedly. “What makes you think I’m not serious? Did you think I was lying when I called you beautiful? You’re a gorgeous woman who’s built like a fucking brick house. I’d have to be blind, stupid, and crazy as hell not to notice you.” His stare grew heavy-lidded as it roamed over her leisurely, and Annabelle felt it like a physical caress. “I can assure you that I’m not blind, and I’m for damn sure far from stupid, Annabelle.”
They were getting off track, and she was getting too turned on. The sincerity in his voice let Annabelle know he spoke the truth, but again, she couldn’t allow herself to entertain such thoughts, no matter how tempting.
“You should know I’m going to eliminate Fowler once and for all,” Graham spoke quietly, but the weightiness of that statement knocked the wind out of Annabelle. “He and his family have been allowed to prey on decent people for far too long.”
“Why are you doing this?” Annabelle whispered shakily. “Edith said you’re responsible for Brenton and Jessie’s deaths. What made you decide to take the Fowlers’ on? This isn’t your fight, Graham.”
The breathy, husky way she said his name made it hard for Graham not to picture Annabelle in his arms. Instead of telling her the truth, that he’d been obsessed with her since learning of her existence, Graham settled for, “Fuck ‘em. I made a promise to your friends to bring you home, and my word is my bond. I understand that you can’t or won’t do that because of Fowler, but is he the only reason?”
Annabelle’s laugh was a chilling abrasive sound that raised the hair on his arms, her lovely face, marred by bitterness. “Isn’t he enough?” She pointed to her face. “I once had to reset my own nose after he broke it.” Dispassionately, she added “Our last confrontation? Two black eyes, four broken ribs, and a busted eardrum. Oh, and a fractured left arm and sprained right wrist. That motherfucker choked me so hard, I couldn’t speak f-f-f-for a-a-a-”
Annabelle tried to continue, but her voice was trembling so bad that she couldn’t continue. Graham removed the lunch trash between them and scooted closer her. Gently, he pulled her into his arms and onto his lap. Annabelle tried to resist him and struggled to get away, but as his hand stroked her back comfortingly, she collapsed against him with a wildly inhuman sound that Graham understood all too well. It was the sound of anger, hate, pain, frustration and helplessness warring with each other, trying to break free at the same time.
The dam of self-preservation Annabelle built years ago finally burst in a torrent of tears. She clutched at Graham’s neck like it was her lifeline and buried her face in his chest, taking comfort in the strength he offered.
Each tear she shed was forever imbedded in Graham’s soul as they soaked through his linen shirt and into his skin. Gone was the feisty warrior who’d gotten the best of him earlier. In her place was still a strong woman that just needed a moment to rest and put down that shield she fiercely carried. In this way, she reminded Graham of Eliza. For what she’d suffered, his need to exact violence was itching to break through his skin but gradually evaporated as she pushed her warm soft body into his, seeking more comfort. From him. Annabelle was centering him, and it made Graham feel a little vulnerable, realizing just how much he needed it and her.
“It’s okay, Doc. I got you and will never let you fall. He’ll never hurt you again, Annabelle. I promise.”
Gradually, her cries subsided into hiccups, and she straightened up until they were face to face. Graham smoothed her braids away from her tear-stained face then carefully swiped the tears from her cheeks and chin with his thumb pads, giving the veterinarian beauty an encouraging smile. “Hey, Doc.”
“I’m so sorry about that.” Annabelle tried to get up, but Graham gave a slight shake of his head and tightened his arms around her. Annabelle sensed he needed this moment as much as she did and remained still. She wondered if his bald head felt as smooth as it looked. Annabelle was dying to run her fingers over it to find out. “I know I look a hot ass mess.”
“Quite the opposite actually. You’re breathtaking,” Graham murmured and if the words didn’t convince Annabelle completely, the sincere admiration in his beautiful eyes did as they drifted over her face. “Never apologize for showing your emotions. In these trying times, the world could use a little more humanity, Annabelle.”
No, what the world could use more of were men like him. A man whose strength was in his character, and the path he walked, aiding others along the way who weren’t as strong on this journey called life. His eyes were bottomless wells that ensnared Annabelle. They told a wordless tale of the obstacles he’d endured and persevered in spite of them. His vibes said he had a doozy of a background story that made him the man he unapologetically was today. That both drew her to him and frightened her at the same time.
Looking him square in the eyes, Annabelle spoke, “I’m not scared of him trying to hurt me again, Graham. Davis needs to pay for what he did to me, and I’m not talking about him rotting in a jail cell. I want him to die. He needs to before he hurts anyone else.”
“The variables are endless on where Davis could be. I’m working on it, but the bastard’s good at being a coward.” Graham hated himself for having to say the next part. “One thing I’d stake money on? If Fowler knew where you were, he would be stupid enough to try—”
“You want to use me as bait,” Annabelle bluntly interrupted him. Of course, that was why he was here. She shoved against his chest and was disappointed when he readily released her. She stood up and gathered the trash, immediately missing his warmth. “That’s your main objective, right? Because you know he’ll try to come for me. You want me to leave my life here, where no one is privy to Annabelle Gaines and take a chance. On you. And what if you fail? Where does that leave me?”
“Failure isn’t an option for me,” Graham assured her coolly. Looking into his confident steady gaze, Annabelle believed him and was almost swayed. Almost.
“And it isn’t one for me either, Mr. Carlton.” Annabelle was equally cool. “We both know he would never stop pursuing me if you failed. It was nice meeting you, but I’m sorry I can’t help you. I. Need. Better. Odds. Goodbye.”
Annabelle walked away from him without looking back even though a part of her really wanted to. She really should have because if she did, Annabelle would have seen the determination and cunningness that Graham was known for and ran like hell.
Chapter Six
Annabelle was just filling the white ceramic pasta bowl with her famous (in her opinion) citrus grilled prawns and zoodles when the doorbell rang. She grabbed a dishtowel and wiped her hands before gathering her neighbor Sam’s mail from the kitchen table. He’d been gone for two weeks, running marathons in Perth and asked if Annabelle wouldn’t mind picking it up. Sam had called earlier to say that he’d be stopping by to retrieve it. The doorbell rang again, and she rolled her eyes in response. “I’m coming, Sam! Slow your roll!”
She walked down the hallway of her bungalow beach house and opened the front door. Annabelle was stunned to see that it wasn’t Sam
standing on her porch with a livid expression but Graham Carlton. “What are you doing here? How did you find me?”
“That’s not important. A better question would be, who the hell is Sam?” Graham demanded, not caring for the playfulness in her voice for whoever the fuck Sam was. Annabelle’s eyebrows peaked at his tone, which Graham made no apologies for. He’d been around his friends and their women long enough to diagnose his issue with her. He was jealous and that pissed him off royally. Graham didn’t do jealousy, chasing after a woman or commitment, but this woman right here contradicted those beliefs, and it was driving him fucking crazy the way she had him so off his fucking game.
Before Annabelle could answer, the door was pushed out of her hands and opened wider, and Graham found himself staring down at an adorable miniature version of Annabelle except with a lighter complexion and two afro puffs. Big, dark inquisitive eyes under furrowed brows met his as she tilted her head and chirped in a light Australian accent, “Who are you?”
Annabelle bent to pick her up and soundly kissed her plump cheek, earning her a delicious giggle from the toddler who enchanted Graham. “Sorry if the doorbell woke you, baby. This is Mr. Carlton. He’s a friend of your Gigi’s.” To Graham, she spoke tersely, “Not that it’s any of your concern but this is my daughter, Aurora.”
She wrapped both arms around Annabelle’s neck and buried her face against it. Shyly, she peeked up at him with a toothy grin, revealing pearly white teeth. “Hi.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Aurora,” Graham said with a solemn smile, even though he was reeling on the inside. This was the second time today that Annabelle managed to get the jump on him, and the hits just kept coming when another set of footsteps accompanied by jingling echoed in the house before Edith Fowler appeared.
“Graham, darling! You made it!” She hip-bumped a ferociously scowling Annabelle out of the way to grab his hand. “It’s so good to see you. You’re just in time for dinner. Well don’t just stand there. Come in! We have so much to talk about!”
***
After Edith dragged him into the house and sat him down at the kitchen table with a cold glass of peach lemonade, Annabelle retreated upstairs to give her daughter a bath.
“I’m surprised to see you here, ma’am. You coulda given me a heads up,” Graham admonished the older woman with fond exasperation.
“But where would the fun be in that?” Edith chortled merrily. “Do you not recall our last conversation?”
“Aren’t you going to ask me where I’m going?”
Graham lifted her hand and kissed it briefly. “Only if you give the answer I told you to use.”
“Oh…pffft!” she waved her hand at him with embarrassment. “Go on then, boy!”
“Where are you going, Ms. Edith?” Graham challenged her.
Edith took a deep breath and regally tilted her head at him and sucked her teeth. “Don’t worry about where the hell I’m goin’! This my goddamn life, and I’ll live it the way I see fit and without answerin’ to anyone! You don’t like it; you can kiss my ass!”
Graham gave her a two-finger salute and grinned. “Yes, ma’am. Take care.”
“Indeed, I do. You’re lookin’ good, Ms. Edith. I barely recognized you. That’s a true testament that your new life agrees with you.” Graham raised his glass to her.
It was the understatement of the year. The woman before him looked nothing like the woman he’d first encountered in Baymoor’s library. That cold, immaculately dressed, and perfectly coiffed woman was dead. Edith had buried her right along with Brenton and rightfully so. Like a phoenix rising from the ashes, she’d been reincarnated and Graham approved wholly of her new look. Edith had exchanged her elegant pageboy hairstyle for a tapered afro that she no longer dyed. Her faded denim cutoffs showed long legs and delicate anklets and a toe ring, and her red t-shirt read ‘Boss Babe’. She now wore a tiny diamond stud nose ring and her makeup free skin glowed with happiness and contentment.
“Thank you, baby! Doesn’t it, though?” Edith preened as she raised her glass and clinked it with his. “Well, let’s hear it! What took you so long to get here? I expected you to be hot on my heels.”
Graham rubbed his goatee and assessed her with a shrewd gaze. “The inn had its grand opening. Otherwise, I would have been, but I suspect you know that. You wanted to see my reaction to her, didn’t you?”
“Gold star for Graham! Yes, I did,” Edith admitted with a warm smile as she spoke in a conspiratorial whisper. “It’s also the reason I didn’t mention to her that you were coming. I wanted to see if my theory proved correct and it did. You like my Annabelle! I see that look in your eyes when you watch her. It’s the same one you had before meeting her, and that’s a good thing.” Edith tapped his hand for emphasis, her face beaming with approval. “It means she exceeded all of your expectations. Now, what are you going to do about it, son?”
That was a good question. Except Graham didn’t see Annabelle as the woman he wanted between his sheets anymore. She was much more than that. Annabelle was also the mother of a lovely little girl, and a respected career woman who had a good life here in Furla. What kind of man would he be to ask her to abandon her family and life to help him catch a psychopath? Annabelle had been right in refusing him. Keeping her and babygirl safe was now his number one priority. Graham would have to find another way to lure Fowler out of hiding.
“I’m going to finish what I started on my own.” Graham ignored the disappointment in Edith’s eyes. “Did you know about your granddaughter?”
Edith’s eyes softened with love. “From the beginning. I used the time I volunteered at the library not just to read to the children but to take advantage of their computers as well. Rory, as we call her, gave me the strength to keep going and serve as a reminder that all we endured was worth it. Neither Annabelle nor I want her to ever go through what we did. We were actively planning my escape when you reached out to me.”
Edith fell silent as she met his gaze with a troubled one of her own. She opened her mouth but quickly shut it as her gaze fell to the table. Underneath the table, her anklets jingled as she tapped her feet agitatedly. Something was troubling her.
“Ma’am, you don’t ever have to sugarcoat shit with me. Speak your mind freely,” Graham encouraged her. After the way her spirit was crushed out of her, Graham never wanted Edith to forget she had a voice and to use it.
“Alright then. You and I have formed an unlikely alliance, but I’ve no doubt it was the right choice. I know you must think I’m a terrible mother for turning my back on my son, but if I thought there was an ounce of good in him, I wouldn’t have made the decision that I did,” Edith confessed with a slow exhale as tears appeared in her eyes. Quickly, she brushed them away. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to change my mind, Graham. I just want you to know it’s a choice I still struggle with, but Rory and Annabelle’s safety and happiness are my top priority now. They don’t have anyone but me. I told you what her parents did to her so I doubt she’ll ever reach out to them. My girls are my second chance to get it right.”
“Trust me, Edith. When I think of a shitty mother, your image isn’t the one that comes to mind,” Graham informed her grimly and Edith gave him a sad smile.
“I just want to go back to Baymoor and live out the rest of my life peacefully. I want my granddaughter to know the town that her mother and I love so much and make new memories with them. Maybe Rory will meet a nice boy and fall in love—”
“But way down the line, like when she’s like eighty, right?” Graham brusquely interrupted her with a disapproving frown, his protective instincts already rising to the surface. The thought of some little boy chasing after Rory the way his friend Darby’s son, D.J., chased after Graham’s precious niece, Camille, irked the shit out of him. Dude smothered his niece like biscuits in gravy with that damned Sullivan charm. “Right now, she’s just a baby. There’s plenty of time for that sort of thing.”
Edith’s knowing look said he wasn�
�t fooling anyone. “Like, ‘never’ in your mind. Something tells me you’ll be around to make sure everything goes according to your plan. That’s not necessarily a bad thing, my dear. I just want your promise that you won’t hurt either of them.”
Graham was going to reply, but Rory’s squeal of excitement interrupted him when she entered the kitchen, freshly bathed in Annabelle’s arms. She wore pink pajamas with glittering gold stars all over them, a white feather boa, and a small gold tiara nestled in her curls...and silver glitter. Lots of it. All over her face. But it didn’t sparkle more than that sweet smile of hers. “Hey, Ram, you’re still here!”
“Sorry, we’re late! Rory wanted to look nice for dinner with you, Mr. Ram.” Annabelle’s white blouse had water stains, revealing hints of the lace of her white bra underneath; her skirt was twisted haphazardly and wrinkled. The bun thingy had come down and her braids were now in a lopsided ponytail. The same glitter that covered Rory was faintly sprinkled across her nose. Even though Annabelle wore a tired expression, her eyes shone with happiness and amusement from the wiggling bundle trying to get free.
Motherhood had never looked so damn good nor appealed as much to Graham as it did in this instance. Annabelle was breathtaking. He could now see another less x-rated motive for her figure. Those lush breasts had most likely nurtured Rory, and those sexy full grip-able hips were designed for child-bearing and not just for his personal consumption. They were also convenient for her daughter to sit on. Easily, Graham could picture her belly swollen with their child. He felt an unfamiliar and uncomfortable stirring in his chest as his heart ballooned to make room for not just Annabelle but the mischievous angel in her arms. Hell, it was time to stop playing himself. Graham planned to be around to run Rory’s admirers off.
And no, Annabelle wouldn’t have a damn say in his decision.
Chapter Seven
“Look, Mr. Ram! See ‘mato?” Rory quizzed Graham as she picked a plump red grape tomato from her pasta and held it up for Graham, who was sitting next to her to inspect. Quickly, she popped it into her mouth and chewed it with gusto as she clapped her hands in approval. “I eated it! Nom, nom, nom.”
