12. Emily

Chapter twelve

Emily

I 've always heard bad things come in threes. Well, apparently weird men come in threes as well.

First, I get the weirdo sending flowers to the strip club, then there's Easton–which may be its own level of weirdness outside of this–and finally, the other shoe drops. The day I've been dreading for months arrives. I come into work to find a man at my door. Not just any man. This man is tall and handsome and has longer hair than I remember, but his dark eyes are still the same. His eyes always reflect amusement, as if the world is there for him and him alone.

Ivan, deadbeat baby daddy extraordinaire, is standing around at the entrance to my shop first thing Monday morning. He appears to be waiting for me. He's wearing a suit, of all things, and for a moment I doubt my memory.

It can't be him.

This has got to be a customer. Ivan was never one to dress up. He always wore something he'd pulled out of the bottom of a laundry hamper, even for special occasions. The man standing at my door is well dressed in a tailored and pressed suit and has a stance that exudes power.

Luckily, someone–probably his dumb ass, if I'm honest–has taken my usual parking spot in front of the shop. I'll have to park farther down the block and walk.

I circle the block, praying he doesn't notice me, then sit in my car contemplating my options, wondering if Angie or her husband are available to walk with me to the store. The clock on my dash says 7:45. They're probably in the middle of wrestling kids into school clothes and packing lunches. I'm on my own for this one.

I check up and down the block to see which neighboring businesses are open. Fortunately, morning traffic is heavy, and he doesn't seem to notice me watching. Mario's deli is open. I could go sit a bit and hope he gets tired of waiting, but I'd have to cross the street for that to happen. It'd be hard not to notice a huge pregnant woman slowly waddling across the street.

I'm just about ready to turn around and go home when there's a knock at the window.

Standing outside my door is Easton. I'd forgotten just how beautiful he is and find myself sucking in a breath at the sight of him.

The car's already off, so I open the door instead of rolling down the window.

"Need some help?"

"What are you doing here?"

He smiles. "Grabbing breakfast. Didn't realize Mario's had such good bagels–have you ever tried their chocolate chip with cream cheese?"

"You eat chocolate chip bagels?" I ask, certain he's joking.

"Yes. And they are amazing." He looks up in the direction of the shop. "You know that man standing there?"

I sigh. "Yep."

"Do you wish you didn't know him?"

Yep."

"I can have him–"

"NO," I grab his arm without meaning to, terrified for a moment that he's going to offer to off Ivan for me.

"He's the baby's father. Ivan. I just need someone to walk with me."

He raises an eyebrow. I swear I almost hear a growl before he looks away and clears his throat. "The one who left you all this time?"

"The very one."

"Are you hoping he's come for you?" His face takes on a look I can't quite pin down.

"I was hoping he'd been abducted by aliens."

He chuckles and holds the door open for me before offering me a hand. "I can work with that. You ready?"

I shake my head.

"I could go speak to him for you, if you wish."

I shake my head again. "No, I probably need to talk to him at some point, I guess."

He takes my hand in his, giant claw tipped fingers threading through my own tiny ones, and matches pace with me. Once we cross the street, the sidewalk is busy. He walks ahead of me, still holding my hand, clearing a path for us. People gawk at him as we pass. Whether it's because he's so open about being a wolf or his looks or both, I can't tell you.

We're two stores away from my door when Easton pauses. He waits for me to come to his side before turning and telling me. "He's gone."

"Gone?" I echo like an idiot.

Sure enough, the doorway is now empty. People funnel around us as I stare at the place Ivan once stood. I turn and look up at Easton. "I'm not crazy. You saw him, right?"

He nods. "He probably got cold feet. He has to feel incredibly guilty for what he's done."

I snort. "You don't know Ivan, but thank you for thinking the best of the situation. If it's anything, he's back to ask for money or a place to stay. Thank you for walking with me." Reluctantly, I squeeze his hand before I release it and head toward the door to unlock it.

"Would you like me to stick around? In case he comes back?"

I shake my head as he follows me in. "I can't ask you to do that with your allergies. Besides, you look ready for…" My mind blips for a moment. What the hell do you call what he does? Crime Lording? Business? What does he spend his days doing? Is he off to rough up some guys? Meet a mole at the docks? Leave a menacing warning to the son of his rival? Pay off some cops? "...work."

"Even if I can't stay, I have men who can keep an eye out for you. Would you be willing to allow me to post a guard? They won't interfere. They'll stay across the street. You'll hardly know they're there."

"He's just a deadbeat dad. I don't know if he warrants–"

He meets my eyes. "You don't have any family and you're not exactly in the best position to defend yourself if he gets violent."

"He was never violent before–"

"Homicide is the leading cause of death among pregnant women."

I huff a laugh. "Thanks for the cheerful morning thought."

He moves closer. I could swear I can feel the body heat rolling off him. "It would make me feel better if you'd just allow me to post a guard. At least one man. As your friend."

Friend? I guess I was right. This is just his good deed. Why am I so disappointed? Because you're an idiot, Em . I sigh as I feel myself relenting. "As long as you're sure it's not any trouble."

He smiles. "None at all." He pulls out his phone and places a call. Moments later, a man appears at my door, dressed nearly identically to Easton. He's handsome and tall and dark-skinned. He dips his head toward me in greeting, then looks to Easton as he comes to stand by the counter.

"Emily, this is Darius. He's got a car across that street he'll be in all day, keeping an eye on the shop. I'll send you his number so you can text or call if you need him right away. Otherwise, you can wave out the door and he'll know you need him." Easton types something into his phone.

My phone dings with an incoming text. It's a calling card labeled Darius . How does this man even have my number? But I should know better. If I'm his project, he'd have my number. Hell, he probably knows what elementary school I attended and which wisdom teeth I still have.

"You have my number now, too. Don't hesitate to call or text at any time. If I can't make it, I'll have someone who works for me come to help you out."

It's all so easy to say yes to. I'm sure somehow I'm the frog in the kettle of water and Easton's just turned the stove up. But I can't imagine what his motive is.

Do mafia families do PR stunts? Is this his way of showing people he's really a good guy? Everything is happening too fast, and of course the people pleaser in me insists I cannot say no. He's just being a friend.

"Thank you," I try to smile up at him.

His dark, gorgeous eyes stare back. For a moment, there's a flash of black and then it's gone. He clears his throat and pats me on the back…as a friend.

"I've got to get going. Have a good day. Call if you need me."

"Of course," I say, knowing good and well I won't call.