Chapter 32

32

There was something going on in her head. No denying that.

Fletcher just waited. When Dylan was really bothered by something, it took a little while for her to get it out. The constant chatter other times was just a smoke screen. A way to hide what she was really feeling.

He’d put that together fast the first time he’d seen her dealing with one of her younger sisters during a crisis. He hadn’t even known what the problem was, but Dylan had just come in and started talking.

Until she had it solved and her sister okay again.

But she was letting him touch her. Like she didn’t realize he was doing it. She was touching him too. Little brushes that damned near had him shooting off into orbit.

He wanted that woman. He just didn’t quite know how he was going to convince her that she wanted him permanently. It had to be permanently. He couldn’t settle for anything less. But if he rushed her, she’d hightail it right back to the family inn and hide herself away in the attic.

Dusty and Sage had captured his brothers quickly. In dangerous circumstances, really. That wasn’t something he wanted to repeat. The trauma of what she had seen would already stay with her forever.

He was courting her. That was what he was doing. Fletcher had never courted a woman in his life. But she made him want to do that, to treat her gently. Softly.

To show her that she would always be safe with him, for one thing. To show her that she could trust him. Depend on him. Because unlike her father, Fletcher would never just rip the world out from underneath her. No matter what. To show her that they could belong—with each other.

“I had emails from Quade and Meyra both. Meyra and Brandt have set the date. She wants me to help her plan her wedding when I get back. They are moving fast. Quade just asked about how his family is doing.”

They’d run into Quade Davis’s aunts, sisters, and cousins at Houghton Barratt’s house after they’d met that billionaire inventor, and he’d shown them the drones at his private facility near his mansion in Barrattville. Brandt Barratt, Meyra’s fiancé, was also the first cousin of Houghton Barratt. Fletcher had spent a lot of time with Brandt, helping the other man find properties to expand his own business in Masterson. He liked him, considered him a friend.

“Are they having the wedding here or at home?” Fletcher asked. Brandt had told him personally that time was just too damned short. He wasn’t wasting another damned minute without Meyra.

Well, Fletcher could understand that himself.

If he had his way, he’d carry Miss Dylan Geraldine Brown Talley right to Ethan Masterson’s church out there in Tyler Township, where his parents had been married and where they were buried, and he would have Pastor Masterson marry him and Dylan together forever.

And then they’d get started on their first Fletcherling. As quickly as they possibly could. At least the practicing part. But that was a bit unreasonable right now—since he’d only kissed the woman, after all.

He might just be jumping the gun a bit. At least for her.

For him, well, Fletcher felt like they’d wasted enough time. He’d known her since October. That was long enough for a determined man to wait. Even if he hadn’t known exactly what he was waiting for.

“They are getting married in Masterson. He said it’s better for her there. Will be far less stressful than bringing her and the entire fam down here. He really understands her. It’s so sweet and romantic. And he said he wants to give his parents some time away, considering what happened to them recently. They are just waiting until his sister’s fiancé is back on his feet fully. Sometime in May. But—and don’t tell anyone I told you this—she’s moving in with him this weekend. She just needs to tell her family first. Not that it will be a big shock. I mean, she’s sleeping in the suite at the inn with him. Uncle Gerald is kind of flipping at that part, but I’m sure he’ll catch on to what they are doing in there eventually.”

“I’m sure Rhea will educate him. Maybe with a pamphlet on safe sex or something. Or a personal demonstration.”

Dylan shot him a grin. “You think?”

“I think. You want dessert?”

“Meyra said I had to check out the s’mores cookies they make here. She’s going to come up with an egg-free version of it. Since her love stud is egg-allergic. They are just too cute.”

She ordered her cookies, and they waited. Then Fletcher wrapped his fingers around her much smaller hand and led her out into the sun.

Just to come face-to-face with a man that he had never expected to see.

When the man lashed out to shove them off the sidewalk, Fletcher barely had time to get Dylan out of the damned way.

Then it was on.

That bastard was going down.

“You evil son-of-a-bitch!”