Elias turned his attention back to the bodyguard, and the man sighed.
“I’ll be close.” Axel removed a business card and set it atop the closest flat surface he could reach from where he stood. “There’s my number. Save it so you’ve got it on hand, just in case you need it,” the man said, holding Elias’s gaze as if to emphasize the seriousness of the threats that had been made.
The man turned on his heel with familiar precision, leading Elias to think of Cole and his military training. The way both men carried themselves was…different. Methodical and precise.
Elias locked the door behind Axel and watched out the window until the man was back in a black SUV and heading down the driveway.
He hoped the guy parked a ways up, otherwise the high-end SUV lurking there along the road would stick out like a sore thumb, drawing attention for that fact alone.
As though hearing his thoughts, the brake lights appeared before the man put the vehicle in park, blocking the drive from anyone entering—or exiting without him knowing about it. “He’s gone, though it looks like he plans to stay the night.”
Quinley opened her door once again and stalked out, feet stomping as she returned to the couch and flopped down. “I know it’s probably for the best, but I hate this.”
He stored the gun safely back in its hiding spot before joining her. “Your ex is obviously concerned. I am too, to be honest.”
“I know,” she said with a soft sound of anger. “Otherwise I wouldn’t have agreed to the guards. Knowing Rhys, there are a half dozen out there now. I promise you Axel’s not alone. And thank you again for letting me stay. I should’ve asked earlier and not just blurted that out, but I appreciate another night. I’ll do some research in a bit and find another cabin or something.”
She crossed her arms over her chest, and he liked that she still wore his sweatshirt and sweats despite the fact she now had a bag of clothes in her room.
The thought had no sooner hit than he felt his own temper rise because of it.
Quinley was not an option for him. Feelinganything but sympathy for her wasn’t an option. She’d already proven herself untrustworthy in the way she’d handled ditching her groom on their wedding day, and the last thing he wanted was to find himself attracted to a woman who didn’t know the meaning of loyalty or…respect. Maybe that was harsh, seeing as how she’d done what was right for her, but realistically she could’ve handled it better.Should’vehandled it better and given the guy some notice before the day of the wedding.
Her life was in tatters, and her chaotic emotions weren’t something he’d ever want to navigate.
She snagged the bag of chips, shoved a handful in her mouth, and he bit back a comment.Perfect example.Instead he said, “It’s fine. The bedroom would’ve been empty otherwise.”
“Seriously,whyare you hating on my food? I don’t need a food overlord right now!”
Her lower lip trembled with her upset, and as a picture, she looked…freaking adorable. Tousled, makeup-free, ready to fight to the death to defend those freaking chips. “Calm down,” he said, knowing full well that it would irk her even more and light a fire in her blood that would erase the fragility he witnessed. “Eat what you like. Just don’t get upset when your body hates you because of it. You’ll be sick by the end of the week.”
She crunched on a chip and glowered at him. “So is that why you do it? Is that why you’re all aboutnutrients?”
He returned to his spot in front of the puzzle and got back to work. “It is, actually.” He blamed his own rise in temper for his honesty.
“Wait, what?” She stilled. “I was kidding. I mean, I know you own a gym, so I figured that was why you constantly pushed disgusting health food, but are you saying there’s more to it than being all muscly because of your business?”
He picked up the puzzle piece he’d had before and went back to his search. The topic wasn’t one he liked to dwell on, but he supposed he could share the bare-bones details on the off chance it might make her see what she was doing to herself. “It’s not just about the gym, though that is a valid point. I have food allergies, especially to processed foods like the one you’re inhaling. It took a lot of trial and error and years to figure out, but certain types of food make me sick.”
She paused in her munching and looked at him with a bit of wide-eyed panic.
“You’re not like EpiPen bad, are you? Did you buy me food you’reallergicto?”
He gave her another glance and noted that she looked horrified. Maybe the heartless runaway bride had a heart after all. “I’m not that bad yet, though with allergies there’s always the potential for them to worsen. Regardless, I can’t eat junk without paying for it physically. Achy joints, full-blown body pain, brain fog, inflammation, constant sickness, like a cold that won’t go away. Junk food makes me feel like crap, and I can’t function. And not functioning isn’t an option when you have businesses to run.”
She set the bag of chips aside and licked the salt from her lips. Not that he wanted to notice that.
“Have you always been this way? Did you do allergy tests or something?”
She broached territory he didn’t want to visit. Just the thought made him scowl. “I recently had some tests that confirmed everything I already knew based on my own experiments and experience. It was nice to have validation, though.”
She stared at him, a question in her suddenly aware gaze. “So you have always had allergies?”
And there was the crux of it. And all the memories that came with the truth. “Apparently. I was always sick as a kid. Finn and I were born prematurely and spent time in and out of the hospital after birth, and over the first few years,” he said carefully, placing the puzzle piece in his fingers and picking up another as he thought of that time. “Finn seemed to grow out of his issues, but I didn’t, and I missed a lot of school because I was down with one thing or another. The doctors blamed being premature.”
“That must have been hard for you,” she said softly. “I’m glad you figured it out. I always hated being sick as a kid. Stuck in my room so I didn’t contaminate the house. And God forbid if the housekeeper got sick because of me. One day off was enough according to my parents.”
He might have always been the sickly one in his family, but he’d never felt blamed nor had his parents allowed his siblings to mock him for something he couldn’t help.
