Chapter 17
After an exhausting hour at the police station, giving her statement to the officer on duty, Mariah stood and stretched her back. Vaughn signed the paper in front of him as well and pushed to his feet. The grim set of his mouth confirmed her guess as to how successful their efforts would be.
Only another three years for loan repayment and then she could leave this town. Hopefully, nothing else bad would happen before then.
It was well after nine o'clock when they returned to his truck. She sighed. "So, I should get back to my car and head home. Work day tomorrow, and all."
"Why don't I take you home? The hospital is on the other side of town. I can arrange to have your car brought to your house."
"No way. I couldn't ask you to do that."
"You're not asking. I'm offering."
"Well." She paused, more to get the sudden flutters under control. When had someone truly tried to stop and help her? "I hate to impose. Only if it's no hardship for you."
He shook his head. "Absolutely not. Keys on the floorboard?"
"Under the mat. How did you know?"
"No one around here locks vehicles. Most freezing mornings, you'll see trucks and cars lined up in front of the diners, keys in ignition, running. No one around here would steal anything. Besides, with your unique... car, it would be pretty obvious who stole it." A quirk flashed across his normally hard-set mouth.
"You're not picking on my used Cooper are you? I got a great deal for it in my third year of medical school."
"Let's just say it's well suited to you." He punched in a text message on his phone. "Yep. Won't be a problem to get it back to your place." He stowed the phone in a pocket and shrugged. "Small town. Everyone knows about where everyone else lives." Buckling up, he put the truck into drive.
Fifteen minutes later, he pulled into her driveway. Then he hurried around to her door before she could open it. His warm hand supported her arm as she stepped down from the truck, the firm strength warming her through the coat fabric. With a flick of his wrist, he snagged her bag and then followed her through the garage door and into the kitchen.
It didn't escape her notice that he scanned the kitchen slowly, dark eyes observing everything in sight. Then he pinned her with a quiet gaze.
"Want to check the rest of the house?" she offered.
"You mind?"
"After tonight? No. Be my guest."
As he moved quickly through the two bedrooms and bathroom, she opened and closed the kitchen drawers. She turned to the fridge and rested her forehead on the freezer door.
"Are you okay?"
She jumped. How could someone that big move so silently? Willing her pulse to slow down, she turned to him. "I should offer you food."
"But you're exhausted."
"Yeah, but no way will I sleep with everything that happened tonight." She scrubbed at her face, as if she could wipe away the bad memories.
A minute of silence stretched to two.
Denim rustled as he shifted from one foot to the other. "Do you feel comfortable with me?" he finally said.
She frowned. "Um, sure, I guess."
"A resounding vote of confidence. Hey," he lifted his hand, "I get it. Strange dude in the house. I understand."
Her heart skidded as her past battered at her, superimposing images from Utah on the man standing in front of her.
Stop it. This was Vaughn. Different man. Different situation.
Not dangerous, at least not to Mariah. She knew it deep down inside.
"You haven't done anything wrong," she said.
He pointed a thumb at his broad chest and flashed a grin. "I'm a guy. We're always messing up. As my sister likes to say, give me time." Easing onto a kitchen stool across the island, he said, "Were you okay with me a while ago, close to you, in the truck?"
Her face warmed. "Yes." Very okay, not that she'd admit that fact aloud.
"Good. Then go get ready for bed. I'll stay here."
A flicker of panic caught her off guard, and she rubbed her neck.
"If you want me to." He lifted a hand. "No funny business, I swear. You can hold onto a hammer and bash me with it if you don't feel safe. You just seem... like someone who might rest better if another person is around."
He wasn't incorrect. "But—"
"And I feel partially responsible for the Brands' treatment of you. They hate my family. If I hadn't been with you, they might not have hassled you like that."
She worried at her lower lip as her head swam. "Could have been worse."
"You got that right." He rested his hands, palms up, on the countertop. "Seriously, though. Would you be okay with me hanging out tonight? It'll make me feel a lot better, knowing you're safe."
"Really?"
"You have no idea." Why did that statement seem deeper than the mere words?
A final knot of tension unwound in her chest. One thing she knew for certain: her gut told her Vaughn Taggart was all right. Maybe his emotions were helter-skelter, but his character was solid. "Okay, then." The smile felt good after the past few hours of reliving her past hell.
Given how reassuring he was, back in the truck, his presence now might chase away some of her personal demons. And he was correct. For some odd reason, just being around him created a sensation of safety. Besides, if Vaughn misbehaved, Mariah had only to call any one of his siblings and they would knock him into line.
And bonus: she didn't have to worry about being ashamed to appear vulnerable or weak in front of him. She groaned to herself. They had passed that milestone a few hours ago.
With a tired smile, he pushed to his feet. "Still want a hammer for self-defense?"
She studied his earnest face. "No."
Once she had brushed her teeth and changed into a tank top and pajama pants, she stood in the middle of her empty bedroom, arms crossed over her chest. Shadows played on the walls, turning painted walls into plywood. Her lungs burned as she forced air in and out.
She wiggled her toes. Plush carpet. Not a rotting subfloor. Everything would be all right.
She checked the windows. No keyed locks. She could escape if need be.
Sweat formed between her breasts.
This was not a Damned. Plywood. Room.
Vaughn knocked, making her jump again. "Is it safe to open the door?"
She turned around as he eased open the door. "You're a guest here. I should get you some food. A snack."
"Watching my figure. No worries." For a guy so big, he stepped lightly as he brought in a kitchen chair and set it next to the wall, the spot farthest from her bed. He sat down, facing the bedroom door.
"You can't stay there all night."
"I will if that's what you need. Get into bed." His growl filled the small room. "You need to rest. I need to make sure you are able to rest."
"Why?"
"It's a... quirk... of mine, looking after people."
"I don't understand."
"You don't have to. Go on." He motioned.
She slipped in beneath the duvet and sheets. The space between her and Vaughn felt wrong, like the worst kind of disconnect. And it unsettled her that he sat on the other side of the room. "It's okay. You can have some of the bed."
"No, that wouldn't be right."
"We're modern-world people. Pretty sure your reputation will be intact in the morning."
"That's funny."
"Good." She patted the bed. "It's okay."
He studied her as he stood and took a few steps to her. He rested one knee on the bed. "You sure?"
"You're not what scares me." And it surprised her how that statement was true.
He took off his boots with twin thumps and sat on the edge of the bed, making the mattress dip. Sitting on top of the blankets, back propped against the headboard, positioned as close to the edge of the bed as someone could be without falling off, he then rested a big, warm hand on her upper arm.
Connection. Warmth. Safety.
Mariah did the impossible and drifted off to sleep.