Chapter 18

Early Wednesday evening, Hope glared at her patient, amazed at how bad he was at being taken care of. Tuesday had gone smoothly. He hadn’t minded her calling Suke to cancel the day’s appointments, because he’d found it hard to sit upright and breathe without wincing. He continued to take his medication, though she’d had to prod him the last time. Nice to know J.T. didn’t like drugs.

His father, sister, cousin, and the guys from work had come to see him. And he’d acted fine, shrugging off their concern, smiling. But as soon as they’d left, he’d showed her his pain. The poor guy. Then he’d spent a lot of time sleeping, and she’d gone and reaffirmed to Suke to cancel his appointments until Friday. J.T. could say what he wanted, but he didn’t look well at all.

She felt so bad for him. Earlier today she’d taken off at lunch. Since Cam knew why she’d wanted to be home, he’d given her Thursday off as well. At the moment, she thought she might need it.

To hide the body.

“Take a pill.”

He scowled. “No. I’m good.”

“You’re nearly as white as I am.” She didn’t find his groaning laughter amusing. “Look. You’re hurting. And my brothers are coming over in about”—she checked her phone—“twenty minutes. So unless you want them to see a complete wuss moaning when he so much as farts, you’ll take a freakin’ pill.”

He stared at her, wide-eyed. “You said ‘farts.’”

“Yes, I did.”

“So…is this a turning point in our fake relationship? Where we can say ‘farts’ but not do it in front of each other?”

“You are such a pain in the ass.”

“That’s a yes, then?” He grinned and moaned again, touching his sore lip. “Sorry, baby. I don’t like hurting. I don’t like being weak. And I sure the hell don’t like you seeing it.”

“Why? If I was in pain, you’d help me, wouldn’t you?”

“Of course.”

She shrugged. “So why is this different?”

“It just is.”

She watched him down the pain pill. “I am so glad I wasn’t born with a penis. Having one makes you stupid.”

“Tell me about it.”

She stared at him on her couch, the ashen man propped up on a pillow, turned to watch some car chase on television. He was so handsome, even beaten and battered, wearing sweatpants and a Jethro Tull T-shirt his father had brought him that for some reason had him cursing his father’s name.

Sophie and Liam had tried babying him. Hope had to admit she’d loved watching J.T. grow embarrassed at all the attention, especially his father’s. But he’d acted as if he could manage the pain well enough, and they’d left with a promise to return tomorrow. On the way out, Liam had taken her aside and warned her J.T. didn’t do pain well. Boy, was he right.

Apparently her boyfriend could only take so much pampering.

And yeah, she meant boyfriend, not preceded by fake or pretend. Tired of trying to lie to herself about what he meant to her, she accepted that she wanted him. The man gave her orgasms, treated her like gold, and had taken a beating he still didn’t blame her for. His family and friends loved him, and he treated people like they mattered. Even ex-girlfriends like Trish who were too pushy to know better. What wasn’t to love?

Hope had dated a lot of men in her thirty years. And not one had ever been so sweet, sexy, or caring. Or made her feel so much so fast. Taking care of him soothed her. It wasn’t a chore or a need of his to fulfill.

Now she had to figure out a way to get him to stay and make it seem like his idea. Not one of her better moves, but it beat pining for the doofus for the rest of her life.

Since he’d taken the pill, she confessed. “I was kidding. My brothers aren’t coming over tonight. They’re coming over tomorrow.”

J.T. gave her a narrow-eyed stare.

“Is that supposed to scare me?”

The glare grew icier. He was turning her on with that attitude. Sadly for him, the bruises made him look more badass.

She put her hands on her hips and waited.

He sighed. “You win. Happy now?”

“No. I’ll be happy when they find the guy responsible for all this.”

“Stop.”

She sat on the coffee table and stared at his bruised cheek. “Stop what?”

“Stop blaming yourself. I should have known not to go.”

“But you thought it was me.”

“Well, I should have wondered if it was really you. The note was kind of weird.”

She sat up straighter. “What do you mean? What exactly did the note say?” He hadn’t been specific before, so she’d thought it a simple case of misdirection.

“The person claiming to be you might have hinted that you wanted to have sex in the parking lot of Ray’s.”

“I’m sorry. What?”

He covered his eyes. “This is embarrassing.”

“Oh, now I have to know what that note said.”

“Well, basically it told me not to call, because the note was my only invitation. And that you’d give me a private show, wearing only your black heels.”

“You thought I’d write something like that?”

He eased his head back and stared at the ceiling, not meeting her eyes. “Actually, you typed it.”

“Wait. You thought I’d type up a note telling you to meet me in the parking lot at Ray’s—where I’d only be wearing heels?”

He groaned. “I know. It makes no sense now. But the note mentioned your black heels, so I thought for sure it was you.”

She laughed so hard she cried.

“It’s not that funny,” he snapped. She continued, lost in the hilarity, and he grumbled, “I am injured, you know.”

When she could contain herself, she wiped her eyes. “Thanks. I needed that. You’re a moron, you know that?”

“Yes.” He gave her a pitiful look.

“First of all, if I was going to write a note like that, I’d write it out by hand. Like, jotting you a note. I wouldn’t go back to my computer to type and print it out. Second, I wouldn’t leave it on your car, where anyone could find it. God knows what Suke would do with something like that.”

He snorted.

“Third, every woman I know has black heels. It’s a standard thing, like a guy owning a pair of sneakers. But if you’re thinking my ‘admirer’ knew because he saw me wearing them, I guess that’s possible. He would’ve had to see me leaving my apartment or meeting Noelle for my birthday. And since the dance club isn’t one of our regular haunts, he would have had to follow us. I don’t buy it.”

“Me neither. Maybe he guessed on the shoes.”

She stared at him, bemused. “So you got jumped because you wanted to meet me for outdoor sex.”

“Yes. But I was all for the sex because you initiated, not about doing it outside.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

She thought about that. “I initiate sex. Or I would. I just never get a chance because you beat me to it.”

He gave her a slow smile. “That’s good to know, because I—”

His phone rang. She handed it to him, and after a moment, he set it on the table. “Okay, Heller. Tell us both. You’re on speaker.”

“I found your Paulie. He tells me of a man—medium height, slender. Dark hair, dark eyes maybe. This man gives him money. Paulie thought he was probably the actual person behind it, because he was bossy, rude, and adamant about not giving any more until the deed was done. Apparently the bonus for making you feel much pain was to be given after proof of you being broken. Paulie didn’t plan to kill you, but he did think about taking a few of your teeth as proof of a job well done.”

“Thanks. I think.”

Heller hung up.

Nice to know J.T.’s molars were worth a pretty penny. He did have straight white teeth, Hope noticed. “The description Heller gave us could fit a few of Cam’s clients, actually. Brad, Joe, and Steven come to mind. They’ve been in during the period this has been going on. What did my brothers say about Greg?” He’d told her that her brothers would look into her ex.

“I don’t know. Why don’t you call them…since they aren’t coming over until tomorrow?”

She smiled. “Yes, dear.”

He laughed and gave her a sly smile. “Man, you are like your mom.”

“Sticks and stones, big guy. Sticks and stones.” She called Landon.

“Hope? You okay?”

“Yes. Have you talked to Greg?”

“Yeah.”

She put him on speaker. “Okay, now J.T. and I can hear you.”

“Hey, Landon.” J.T. looked more animated. “What about Greg?”

“J.T., how are you feeling? I heard you look like shit.”

“He does,” Hope told him. “Now—Greg?”

“Right. So Numbnuts had no idea what the hell was going on. He says about a month ago, somebody busts his windshield and leaves a note telling him to leave you alone. So he assumed it was us and came to talk to you. That’s when you kicked his ass at the park.”

“It had to be my admirer.”

“Yep. But it’s odd. The inconsistency of when the guy is sending you gifts and having J.T. beat down. I mean, it’s not happening often enough to tie this guy to an actual suspect. Like, if every time the pizza guy showed up, you got flowers, we’d know it’s him.”

“According to J.T.’s. friend, who talked to one of the guys who beat up J.T., he—”

J.T. interrupted. “Okay, hold on. I was not beaten up. I was sucker punched, managed to kick two guys’ asses, then Heller helped. Okay?”

“Sure, man.” Landon sounded amused.

J.T. heard it, because he glared at the phone. “Asshole.”

Landon laughed.

“The point,” Hope reiterated, “is that the person who hired them could match the description of a few of Cam’s clients.”

“If we could get the guy to see some pictures, maybe he could confirm who it was. Think he’d tell us?”

J.T. nodded. “Yeah, if Heller asks, Paulie will tell him anything my boy wants to know.”

“Great. But I think at this point we want the police in on this,” Landon said. “J.T., you’ve got broken ribs. Yeah, okay, you can take care of yourself. If that had happened to Hope…”

“I know.” J.T. looked at her, and she saw fear in his eyes. “I know someone who can help. At this point, if I go the cops, they’ll want details. And I can tell you no one at Ray’s saw anything. Heller sure won’t talk to the cops. Not with all the dirt on him.”

Hope blinked. “On Heller?”

“Nothing that could stick,” he tried to reassure her. “Anyway, it’s probably best we handle this ourselves. Catch the guy in the act so we have proof, not just what we think he did. It’ll play better for the cops.”

“Well, let me know if you need help,” Landon said. “I know some people too.”

“Yeah, but your people would be more interested in putting my kind of people in jail.”

Landon growled, “Somehow, that doesn’t inspire confidence in your ability to protect my sister, Webster.”

“It should,” Hope said. “His friends carry all sorts of illegal weapons.”

“What—”

“Gotta go.” Hope hung up. “He’s such a brat. Born first and thinks he knows everything.” She saw J.T. trying not to grin.

“Stop making me laugh. My mouth hurts.”

She leaned over to kiss it better. And he turned and took the kiss full on the mouth when she’d meant to kiss the cut on the side. She kept it light and stroked his uninjured cheek. “I really am sorry you got hurt.”

“I know.” He sighed. “You smell good.”

Staring down at him, she thought about what might have happened if Heller hadn’t stopped by when he had. What if the guys had permanently injured J.T.? Or, worse, killed him? Yes, she wanted to keep J.T. To marry him and live out her own happily ever after. But she knew better than most that the fantasy never lived up to the reality. And how fair was it to coerce the guy into being not only her fake boyfriend, but a real fiancé? One who might not make it to an I do because of her problem?

Guilt didn’t feel good, and neither did the notion she’d been really selfish with J.T.

“Hey, what’s that look?”

She didn’t want to give him up. But didn’t real love mean sacrifice? If she truly wanted what was best for him, maybe being safe, far away from her, was better. And she’d start by distancing herself emotionally, so that after he’d healed, he could go his own way.

“You should rest.” She smiled, and before she could tear up, she stood. “I’ve got a few things to email to Cam since I’m not going in tomorrow. I’ll be in the office getting it done, okay?” She grabbed him a bowl of ice cream, then kissed him on the forehead.

“What, am I two?” he joked.

Man, she didn’t want to let him go. No more teasing, no more J.T. smiles. No more holding hands or hot, sweaty sex all over the place. Most of all, she’d miss his laughter and the way he made her feel perfect just as she was.

“Ha. Funny. Okay, work to do.” She raced down the hall and darted into the bathroom to dry her eyes. She forced herself to stay by her computer for an hour, looking through emails and Facebook.

Hearing nothing but the TV, she looked in on him and found him asleep. She just watched him, seeing him relaxed. So masculine, so big and present, there on her couch.

She adjusted the pillow behind his head to make him more comfortable, and he sighed her name.

She bit her lip and told herself to keep it together. Then she arranged the blanket over him, turned off the television and the lights, and left him alone. She went back to her big bed and slid between the sheets. Alone. Where she belonged.

* * *

J.T. didn’t know what the hell had happened, but Hope was acting differently. She was almost manic in her desire to clean the place, keep busy, and generally ignore him.

Realizing she probably did have a lot to do, and babysitting a grown-ass man had to be low on her list of priorities, he let her be. The guys from Webster’s rolled in a few at a time, and she made herself scarce. Lou raised a brow, looking from her to him, and J.T. shrugged.

Johnny grinned. J.T. hadn’t seen the guy in forever, since Johnny was apparently too busy with his sexy girlfriend to care about his single friends.

Wait. Single? Is that what I am? He didn’t feel single. He felt like part of a couple—him and Hope. Committed, monogamous. He tested out the sensation of being locked tight to another person. But not just any person. Hope.

“Those meds must be good. He’s ignoring me,” Johnny said dryly.

Lou grinned. “What they got you on? Vicodin? Morphine?”

“Try Tylenol 3,” J.T. said.

“Bummer.”

Johnny stared at J.T.’s face. “Lara is itching to come see you. My pretty little nurse thinks she can help you get better.”

“You hear that, Hope?” J.T. called out, seeing her pass into the kitchen in one of her mad dashes to “stay out of the way.” “Johnny’s woman wants me.”

“She can have you,” Hope said as she passed. “You’re not a good patient,” she called from the hallway.

Lou laughed. “You all high-maintenance, J.T.?”

“Nah. Not me.” In a lower voice, he told them, “She’s been acting weird since last night. I don’t know why.”

Johnny looked around, made sure she wasn’t near, and said, “Maybe she’s just worried about you. You could have been seriously hurt.”

“I know.”

“Or she could be PMSing. Is she?”

J.T. blinked. “I, uh, don’t know.” He should know that, shouldn’t he? With as much as he and Hope had been going at it before Monday, he should be aware of her cycle. The timing seemed right…

Lou gave him a sly grin. “Maybe our friend here isn’t as tight with Hope as he’d like us to think he is. You know, I have a few friends who would seriously like to get to know her better. Good guys who—”

“Fuck off. You’re giving me a headache.”

Lou and Johnny shared a grin.

“Well, we’d better go.” Johnny stood. “Del let us out of the garage because we were coming to check on you. She wants a full report when we get back.”

Lou nodded. “Yeah, and I have a Chevy to handle. Bastard won’t turn over, and I can’t figure out why.”

Johnny rolled his eyes. “I swear, you spend a few days with Heller painting, and it’s like you forget how to be a mechanic.”

“You’re an asshole, you know that?”

They continued to bicker out the door.

Hope hurried to the closet and grabbed her purse while stepping into some sandals. “While they’re still here, I’ll walk out with them. So no worries about safety, okay? I’m going to get more ice cream and some milk. We’re out.”

“Let me give you some money so you—”

The door slammed. He heard the lock turn.

Well, then.

Something was definitely up with Hope. She’d spent more time avoiding talking, looking at, or being near him since last night than she had in the month they’d been dating. As much as he kept trying to remind himself that they were pretend, he knew—in his heart—they weren’t. At least, not on his end.

But maybe she wanted to cut ties and didn’t know how to tell him. So she started distancing herself now?

Hope wouldn’t do that, would she? She wasn’t the type to play games. She’d been honest with him from the beginning. She could have led him on and used him to get back at her mom. Instead, she’d asked him for help, then told him to just be himself. No, she liked him. She more than liked him.

She gave him her trust, her body, her fucking smiles that lit up the room. Special ones she didn’t share with other people. God, he had it so bad for her that even the panic he should have felt at falling for a woman refused to come. Only the notion that he might lose her to some psycho terrified him. He could work out everything else.

He hoped.

And the pun wasn’t lost on him.

He forced himself to get up and walk around, letting his lungs fill and dealing with the pain. He didn’t want to chance an infection setting in, and he refused to be short of breath.

As he did slow laps in her apartment, feeling like a big hamster in a tiny maze, he wondered at his father’s choice in clothing. Three Jethro Tull T-shirts—that belonged to his father—and sweatpants. How was he supposed to impress Hope looking like a slob with a hankering for the seventies? Like J.T. didn’t know his father was teasing him. Hope hadn’t asked about his fascination with the rock band, though. She’d been doing her best not to look at him.

He needed to talk to her.

She knocked at the door.

Finally. “Hold on.” He moved slowly but with a steady gait. When he looked through the peephole, though, he saw his father. “Dad?” He opened it.

Liam had come alone this time. “Sophie wanted to come, but she had something come up at the gallery needing her attention.” His father coughed, emotion bright in his eyes.

“No problem, Dad. Come on in.” He stepped back and let his father enter.

Liam walked in, looked around, then ordered J.T. to sit. Considering J.T. had just seen his father and Sophie the other day when they’d brought him some clothes, he didn’t understand what his dad was doing here again. Had Hope asked him to come check on him? “Dad, what’s up?”

Frowning, Liam ran a hand through his closely cropped hair. He glared at J.T., then exploded. “Jesus, boy. I taught you better than that!”

J.T. blinked. “Dad?”

“You’re getting soft. Letting them punch you from behind? Taking you down? I talked to Heller, who saw some of it. You could have been killed.”

Stupid Heller. “I’m fine. I held my own.”

“Barely.”

“Hey.”

“Damn it.” Liam paced, and J.T. watched his father lose it. The old man swore up and down, not making much sense.

“You okay?”

“No, I’m not okay. My son was nearly killed.” Liam’s voice cracked, and he cleared his throat, his gaze murderous. “You don’t ever let them do that again. Get your ass back in the gym. Once you’re healed up, you’re getting some extra training. If I have to get Sam and Foley to knock some defensive moves into you, I will. And don’t think Heller won’t help as well. We talked about you, and we’re both concerned.” The fire of anger burned bright in his dad’s eyes.

“Aw, Dad. It was a freak thing.”

Liam shook his head. “When I lost your mother, something broke inside me.” He sat in the chair near J.T., his gaze honest, furious, his voice anxious. “But I had you, and I had Del. You two were a huge pain in my ass for years.”

“I tried,” J.T. said drily.

“Little shit.” Liam managed a watery smile, and J.T. worried about his father’s mental state. He’d never seen his dad so rattled. Even when they’d heard that Del had been hit by a car, his father had kept his shit together. “Life is good. So good I keep waiting for something to take it all away. When your sister was injured, I was scared, but I knew, deep down, that she’d be okay. She’s always had a hard head, and truth be told, by the time I knew she’d been hit, I’d already heard from Beth that she was recovering just fine. But you.” His father leaned over and slugged him in the arm.

“Ow, damn it. That hurt.”

“You scared the hell out of me. You’re smart, smarter than I ever was. You have a gift, son. A magic in the way you see the world. And wondering if you’d be alive to share it after they put a beating on you, that shook me. J.T., I love you, boy.”

“Aw, Dad. I know.” Shit. Now his vision was starting to get blurry. “Damn. Got some dust in my eyes.” He blinked to clear his tears.

“Then you should also know Paulie and I had a chat.” At that moment, Liam looked like a man not even J.T. would mess with. “I’ll be talking to his friends soon enough. No one messes with a Webster and gets away with it. You’re mine. And you always will be. I protect what’s mine.”

Liam stared at J.T., who stared back, not sure what to say.

“Um, okay.”

With a grunt, Liam nodded, looked at him, then stood. He expelled a heavy breath, turned, and walked to the door. He paused with his hand on the knob. “Hope. Is she taking good care of you?”

“Yeah.” J.T. sighed. “She’s…she’s good.”

Liam glanced over his shoulder, no longer looking so stressed. “That she is. Sophie thinks the world of her. I like her too.” He nodded, and J.T. realized he’d just gotten his father’s seal of approval concerning Hope. “She’s the type of woman who’ll love a man for who he is deep inside. Even when he’s too much of a jackass to let her know, she’ll wait and be patient. Because at some point, even a jackass has to know when he’s got a good thing.”

J.T. frowned. “Hold on. I’m the jackass?”

His father just stared at him.

“What happened to you loving me, and me having a gift?”

“Not a damn thing. But it’s worth nothing if you don’t share it. Remember that.” And that said, Liam left.

J.T. sat in quiet speculation, not sure what to make of his father’s compliments and insults uttered in the same breath. All that emotion expelled in a matter of minutes. Shaken yet pleased that his father cared enough to check on him again, J.T. sat and thought about things.

He sat unmoving for several minutes before a knock at the door interrupted him.

“Christ. Now what?” He lumbered to his feet once more, groaning, and moved to the door. Only to look through the peephole and see Hope’s mother.

She knocked again.

He had to let her in, right? J.T. unlocked the door and opened it, stepping back. “Hi, Linda.”

She looked him over, from top to bottom, and shook her head. “You look awful.”

“Thanks.” He closed the door behind her and joined her in the living room. “Hope went to the store. She’ll be back soon.”

“Yes, I know. I called her.”

“Ah, okay.” He walked with her to the couch, watched her sit, and knew he should sit as well to be polite.

It took him a minute and a few muttered curses, but he eased his way into the plush chair by the couch. “So how are you?”

“Better than you.” She looked him over, and in her mannerisms he saw hints of her daughter. The way Linda held her head, the way she looked at him with such intensity. Hell, the way she looked, pretty and classy—a mature version of Hope. “We need to talk.”

“Funny, that’s the line I was going to use on your daughter when she gets home.”

Linda pursed her lips. “What exactly is going on between you and my daughter?”

“That’s between us, don’t you think?”

“You don’t like me, do you?”

“I don’t know you.” He paused. “But I could turn that right around. You don’t know me either, but you don’t like me, do you?”

“I do.”

“Exactly, so—wait. What?”

“I think you are exactly what my daughter needs.”

“Say that again? Aren’t you the same woman who was going on and on about money and men and Hope being too lame to know her own mind?”

“Yes and no. J.T., I’ve done a good bit of thinking about you and Hope since I met you. And don’t even pretend you two were dating weeks ago. I knew from the start she was using you to teach me a lesson.”

“Then why didn’t you call her on it?”

“Because, believe it or not, I care about my daughter.” She crossed her legs, and J.T. cringed, seeing her black heels. Hope had been right about every woman having a pair. “Hope and I are a lot alike. I think she’d die before admitting it, but she’s competitive, bossy—if gentler going about it—and smart. She also has her own set of priorities in life, and sadly, those haven’t included having a decent job or finding a man of worth.” She paused. “Until you.”

“I really do tattoo people for a living.”

She smirked. “I know. I saw your website. I listened to my husband and sons talking about you.”

“Well, ignore everything Landon said.”

“Why? He’s your biggest fan.”

“Yeah right.” This conversation was nothing like what he might have imagined having with Linda Donnigan.

She laughed. “I’m also close to my sister Beth, who thinks you and your sister are just amazing, by the way.”

He flushed. “Aw. Beth is a great lady. She keeps Del in line. My sister needs it. Liam was way too easy on her growing up.”

“So she says about you.” Linda leaned forward, resting her elbows on her chic red skirt. Her black jacket parted, revealing a silk blouse and a string of pearls around her neck. The woman screamed sophistication with every breath she took. “Hope needs a strong man in her life. She’s been searching for a long time, and part of it’s my fault. In my attempts to make her strong and independent, I’ve managed to make her think she can never live up to my expectations. Which couldn’t be further from the truth. Hope is a sensitive girl with a big heart. But she has so much untapped potential.”

“I disagree.”

“Oh?”

A lot of disdain in that one syllable. “Your daughter is one of the kindest, sweetest, most wonderful women I’ve ever met. She’s got a great sense of humor, works hard, and is always trying to please you. She loves her family and friends. She’s living up to what she needs to be—herself. She isn’t you. Money doesn’t mean much to her, and she has no desire to be king of the castle.”

“You mean ‘queen.’”

Humor, from Linda?

“Yeah, well, queen, then. She likes working for Cam, and she’s good at it. She could have any guy she wants.”

“Yet she chose you.”

“To screw with you, yeah.”

“Ah, but there’s the rub. I knew who you were when she brought you. All I ever wanted was for my daughter to find someone to love her as much as her father and I love each other. And yes, I want her taken care of. Hope has no thoughts for money. But if you want to live more than paycheck to paycheck and enjoy a day or two not focused on bills, someone has to care about the almighty dollar. You’re not poor. Not rich either, but you’re no pauper.”

“Thanks.”

“Yes, I checked up on you. And someday when you have a daughter, you’ll do the same. I’m a bit of a throwback, I’m afraid. I don’t worry for my sons the way I do Hope. She’s just vulnerable in a way they aren’t. I’ve seen her cry when her relationships fall apart, and I know she’s heartbroken when yet another decision of hers turns out to be bad. I don’t want to be right all the time, you know. I just am.” Linda blew out a breath. “But I have to tell you, I’ve never seen her look at a man or talk about him the way she does you. I saw you two at dinner together, and you fit. According to your sister and Mike, Sophie, Beth, Liam, and my sons, you and Hope are involved in more than a scam. You’re a real couple.”

“We are.” No point in lying about it, even to himself.

“Do you love her?”

He wished to hell he hadn’t opened the door.

“Never mind. You will if you don’t already, because my daughter is amazing and lovable and perfect.” Linda touched her hair. “Just like her mother.” She winked. “So I’m going to do you a favor. I’m going to give you some advice.”

Linda stood and walked to the door. After a moment, J.T. straightened, holding his ribs, and joined her.

“What’s the advice?”

“Don’t tell her I like you. That girl will cut off her nose to spite her face. If she thinks I don’t like you, she’ll find you that much more attractive. But if I approve, there must be something wrong with you. We have a weird dynamic, and I know it. But I love my daughter more than anything. And I want what’s best for her.” She stepped closer and cupped his cheek, like Hope did.

He froze, weirded out. Especially when Linda teared up. Hell.

“I heard all about what you’ve been doing to watch over my daughter. And I know you got hurt because of it. I wanted to say thank you. And keep doing what you’re doing—only be safer.”

He smiled, and she patted his cheek before turning away.

“I was never here.”

He repeated, “You were never here.”

She put her hand on the doorknob. “I still don’t think you’ll suit my daughter.”

“Nope, not suiting.”

“If you have a daughter, I want you to slip Linda into her name somewhere.”

“When we—What?”

She laughed and stepped outside. “Funny you said ‘when’ and not ‘if.’ Have a lovely day, and I’ll see you two for brunch next week.”

He watched her walk down the hallway toward the stairs. A ping sounded, signaling the elevator, and Hope stepped out carrying two bags, just missing her mother.

She saw him in the open doorway and started. “You should be lying down.”

When, not if.

“We need to talk.”