His Saint (Forever Wilde 5)

Saint helped me get back in the truck before hopping in and getting us back on the highway. His large hand clasped mine the rest of the way to Dallas and didn’t let go until we were pulling through the large metal gates at Grandfather’s house. Once we were parked in the forecourt between the giant fountain and the overly large front doors, I panicked all over again as I realized I was about to stand in front of my family and deny this man was mine. What if that would somehow make it true?

“I don’t want you to have a gorgeous boyfriend!”

Saint slow-panned toward me. “What?”

“I… I don’t… It’ll be too hard to see you with someone beautiful and perfect and… please.” Okay, I was completely off the rails and might as well shoot for the moon. “Please, um… just don’t… or, ah, maybe just give me a chance? I mean, if you’re looking. For someone. To date.”

Both of Saint’s hands landed on my shoulders and gripped firmly enough to get my attention.

“Remember what I said about not disparaging my judgment in men?”

Fuck.

I nodded.

“I happen to already have the most beautiful boyfriend ever. And I don’t really understand what’s happening right now, but—”

“Who? Who?” There was an owl nearby, perhaps. Either that or I’d had a complete break with reality.

“You, you idiot. Why do you want me to give you a chance? I don’t get it. Aren’t we already dating? I mean, I know it’s been fast, and we haven’t really put a label on it yet, but—”

“Me?” I squeaked, à la Stevie Devore. “Me?”

It wasn’t an owl, it was a parrot. And the damned thing wouldn’t shut up.

Saint’s eyes glanced toward the front door of the house where I could see my grandfather’s valet standing and waiting. It was a good thing my sister had warned me she wasn’t going to make it until later, or I was sure she’d already be out here watching me make a fool of myself through the truck window.

“Yes, you,” Saint said softly, as if Salvatore could hear us from inside the truck. “Surely you realize the main reason I’m considering Neckie’s offer is the hope you’d be willing to put up with me a little longer.”

“Little longer?” Again with the parrot act. I was losing it.

One of his hands lowered to my hip where Sal wouldn’t be able to see it. Saint’s thumb rubbed a small but intimate circle just above my waistline.

“As long as you’ll have me? Maybe until you realize I’m a big dumb jock and you deserve better.” His voice stayed low, and it washed through me like a deep, romantic Randy Travis ballad.

“You’re too good for me,” I admitted. “I don’t deserve you.”

“You have it the wrong way around,” he whispered back, eyes boring into me with an intimacy I’d never before experienced. He was stunning in his intensity. “You’re everything that’s good in the world.”

“Saint,” I whispered.

I felt like I was half a breath away from hearing words I’d never heard before when the sound of my mother’s heels clip-clopped across the slate walkway toward the car. I pulled back, feeling Saint’s missing touch above my hip like a brand. He cleared his throat before murmuring for me to hold still while he got the door.

No way in hell.

As he climbed out of his side, I did the same, turning and pasting on a fake smile for my mother.

“What in the world is taking so long out here? Did you bring your aunt Prima the Screaming Eagle?”

“Two bottles of 2006 Screaming Eagle Cabernet. If I see her drink them both in one sitting, I might have to have words with her,” I warned. “It was a thousand dollars a bottle.”

“Oh, stop complaining. You can afford it, and you know it’s her favorite.”

Mother leaned in for a kiss, so I aimed an air kiss somewhere near her right cheek. “Who’s this?” she asked rudely when Saint came around the truck.

“Mother, this is Saint Wilde. Saint, this is Diane Stiel, but she goes by Di.”

My mother narrowed her eyes the tiniest bit. “You may call me Mrs. Stiel.”

Saint snorted, quickly covering his mouth and pretending to cough. I thought back on the night in the gym I’d told him he didn’t have permission to use my first name. How embarrassing to learn that the apple didn’t fall far from the tree.

After my mother sniffed and turned to walk back in the house, I finally had the guts to meet Saint’s eye with a smirk and mouth, I’m sorry.

I could have fucking sworn he mouthed back, I love you.

And so I tripped up the stairs and lost my footing.

It seemed when I was in the presence of Saint Wilde, I was always falling.

And he was always there to catch me.