One to Protect (One to Hold 3)

The only interesting part is keeping track of the cars I pass. One silver Honda seems to always be with me, a few cars behind, but Hondas are pretty common. As tired as I feel, I’m practically seeing double at this point.

Stopping for a fourth bathroom break and to walk around, I’m halfway through Virginia when I send Derek a quick text. Made it to Richmond. Only four stops this time.

It doesn’t take five seconds for him to text back. Thanks for letting me know. Never stop in Baltimore without me.

My nose wrinkles at his overprotectiveness. The whole city isn’t off-limits. Aunt Bea is there.

Will take you to see her soon. Her cupcakes are my favorite.

I can’t help a laugh imagining what my old-fashioned client, a sweet little baker, will say when she meets my fiancé. She’ll love you.

I love you. You’re so beautiful in my bed. It’s hard to let you go.

Those words erase all the exhaustion—and the mild irritation at being treated like a china doll. Warmth floods my middle. I didn’t get enough sleep this weekend.

Wasn’t that the point?

Hmm… the point had actually been to find out what’s got my future husband so tense and distracted, but between his mouth and my hands and that new red lingerie, that plan had been all but forgotten.

Suddenly the thought of three nights without him seems unbearably lonely. See you Friday?

Maybe sooner.

Sooner? A line pierces my forehead.

While I love the idea of not having to wait four whole days to see him, I know he’s setting up a new client, and their reports and analyses usually take a month to prepare. Patrick’s complained about it before.

I’ll explain when I get there. Kiss yourself, kiss baby.

That would be some trick. Love you, Xoxo

Love you more. xxx

I toss the thin phone into my bag and top off my tank before climbing in and getting back on the road. I’m on the Interstate again, and a quick glance to my mirror says Silver Accord is, too. Whatever. Next stop will be my cozy cottage on the most beautiful stretch of beach north of Miami.

My phone buzzes just as I’m pushing through the front door, holding my overnight case and trying to juggle my keys and bag. Inside, I drop everything and look at the face. Elaine. Voicemail dings.

Hitting the button, I put the audio on speaker and set my phone on the counter before unzipping my luggage and digging out my laundry.

“Where are you?” Elaine’s bossy, middle-school-teacher voice is a mixture of concern and amusement. “I know, I know. You couldn’t leave him. If Derek Alexander convinces you to move eight hours away from me, I’ll never speak to either of you again. You know I hated that drive to Baltimore.”

And Princeton’s even further, I mentally add.

“So I have this whole supper made up for you, and you’re going to come over and give me the scoop. I don’t want to hear about how tired you are—you were supposed to be home last night. I spent the whole day cooking.”

Laughing I shake my head. More like the crock-pot spent the whole day cooking while she was at school.

“Call me. Love you.”

Hitting her name on my phone, it doesn’t ring once before she answers. “Are you home?”

“Yes, and it was a long drive, and I’m—”

“On your way here to have a nice, comfort-food dinner. I made beef stew, and you don’t even have to change. Patrick won’t mind.”

“Lainey…”

But she’s off the phone before I can argue. My stomach grumbles, and I concede. This baby keeps me starving—he’ll probably be as big as his daddy—and I don’t feel like cooking or eating whatever I can scrape together here.