Stout (Men of Lovibond 2)

Oliver nods. “That’s what his mother told me when I spoke with her today.”

Good thing I’m already sitting on Oliver’s office sofa. Otherwise, I might fall.

I never have to worry about that bastard coming after me?

He will never hurt me or any other woman again?

The lump in my throat burns, aches, as I try to hold in the tears. Useless. They’re coming whether I want them to or not.

Some people, such as my parents, would believe it’s wrong for me to be happy about this. Happy? No, relieved. My tears are of relief. Martin got what he deserved. I can move on without worrying he can come after me again. I can live my life without constant fear.

But what about the woman he hurt and her family? “What will become of the man who paralyzed Martin?” Why had he come after me if he already had another woman in his life? Why pursue me?

“He’ll face charges. But at least it won’t be manslaughter or whatever the offense would have been if Russ had died.” There’s no justice in that.

“What do you know about him? The brother?”

“I was told he’s a family man. Husband and father of three small children. Hard worker. No history of violence but he snapped when he saw what Russ had done to his sister. Totally understandable.”

“Absolutely. Especially if she looked anything like I did.” You could have told someone I’d been hit head-on by a train, and they wouldn’t have argued about it.

What a horrid situation for this woman and her brother. He should have proper legal representation. He wouldn’t be in this predicament if Martin hadn’t hurt his sister. “I want to help this man with his legal fees. I can’t be dragged into this publicly so it’ll need to happen anonymously. Some kind of fund.”

“That’s really generous.”

“I’m not doing it to be giving. I’m indebted to him.” This man has no idea he’s ended my daily nightmare. I don’t have to live in fear anymore.

That’s priceless. I owe him everything.

God, I was cocky. So confident I had grown strong enough to prevent Martin from overpowering me again. But he proved me wrong the night of the birthday party. I don’t believe I was winning when Oliver found us. Martin would have eventually subdued me if Oliver hadn’t come when he did.

It was a reality check, and it robbed me of the confidence I’d worked so hard to build. From that night on, I feared Martin could come for me at any time. And he could have.

I knew I was looking into the eyes of a desperately obsessed man when Martin spun me around and forced me to face him. He cared what others thought so blackmail had been perfect for making him behave the way I wanted. But no fucks were given when he came after me the night of Oliver’s party. He wanted what he wanted. And he intended on having it. On having me. Consequences be damned.

The weeks following the attack have been terrifying. The only time I felt safe was when I was with Oliver. He knew that and has stuck by my side. He’s made himself my protector.

And it makes me fall even harder for him.

We’ve been inseparable every night for a month. You don’t spend that kind of time with a man and not fall completely in love with him.

I love Oliver Thorn.

And he doesn’t know; I’m too scared to tell him. Too afraid he won’t, or can’t, love me in return.

Oliver may not love me. But he seems happy with us. I don’t want things to change, but will he? “I hope this change of circumstances won’t affect our sleeping arrangement.”

“It doesn’t change anything for me. As far as I’m concerned, the only decision to be made each night is whether we stay at your place or mine.”

“Good. I like what we have.” I want so badly to tell him I love him and want to spend every night of the rest of my life with him. This would be the perfect opportunity if I could gather my nerve to say the words.

I swallow hard over what feels like my heart beating in my throat. I love you, Thorn. The words are so simple. Easy to enunciate. Nothing tongue-tying about them. All I have to do is spit them out.

They’re on the tip of my tongue. Dangling. Begging to be set free.

“Hey, Stout.” A woman appears in the doorway of his office. A gorgeous drop-dead brunette. And I have no idea who she is. Every day he comes home to me and I can’t recall him mentioning anyone who would fit this woman’s description. Not once.

It’s unnerving.

The beauty holds up a folder. “I have a copy of the design for the Winter Lager label. It’s pretty cool. Porter rocked it.”

“What about you?”

“Okay. We rocked it together.”

She steps into Oliver’s office and sees me on his sofa. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t know you were with a client. I can come back later.”

“No client. This is my girlfriend, Adelyn.” I don’t get tired of hearing him call me that. And I must say it fills me with pride to see Oliver introduce me as his girlfriend to such an attractive woman. Or girl. She looks pretty young now I have a better look at her.

“This is Frankee. She’s Porter’s graphic design trainee.” College kid. No wonder she looks so young.

“Great to meet you. Do you go to UA?”

“I did. Graduated in May. I was super lucky Porter’s assistant quit when she did. Timing couldn’t have worked out better for me.”

“Frankee is our warehouse manager’s daughter.” That means she’s Lovibond family. I must admit knowing that makes me feel less intimidated. “You’ve been running around this warehouse since you were how old?”

“Daddy came to work at Lovibond when you opened the doors. I think I was sixteen.”

“Can’t believe it’s been that long.” Oliver opens the envelope and takes out the proposed label. “That is a fucking awesome graphic.”

“I know. The hipster beard part was my idea, but Porter did the text. See how it weaves in and out of the beard.”

“Yeah. Love the colors too. It’s really great.”

Frankee is beaming. I can see she’s happy Oliver likes her design. “Now we just need Tap to sign off on it, and we can send it over to the printer.”

“No worries. He’ll love it. It sorta looks like him.”

“I think so too.” Frankee snaps her fingers and points at the door. “It’s five o’clock. I’m outta here. Door open or closed?”

“Closed.”

“You got it, boss. Nice meeting you, Adelyn.”

“You too, Frankee.”

I’m left with an entirely different feeling about the beauty than when she first entered the office. “Seems like a nice girl.”

“She is.”

“And very pretty.”

“Fuck, that girl is the epitome of an ugly duckling.”

I don’t think anything about Frankee could be unattractive. “No way. She’s gorgeous.”

“I’m not kidding. Frankee used to come to work with her dad when she was in high school over summer break. We’d let her do odd jobs around the office to help Molly out. It gave her a little spending money in her pocket. She was rail straight. Kept her hair cut short like a boy. Always wore baggy clothes. You couldn’t tell by looking she was a girl. She stopped coming to work with him after she graduated high school, and we didn’t see her again until a few months ago when she came in to apply for a position as Porter’s assistant.”

“Well, she doesn’t look like a boy now.”

“No, she doesn’t.” He’s agreeing, and I can tell he thinks she’s attractive, but for some reason it doesn’t bother me.

“She looks really young.”

“She’s a really smart girl. I think she took a lot of hours and summer classes so she could graduate early. I believe Scott said she was twenty-one.”

“Someone will be scooping her up soon.”

“Well, it won’t be me. I’ve already scooped up the one I want.”

I twist and toss my leg over Oliver so I’m straddling him, my pencil skirt bunching up at the tops of my thighs. “And

she’s very happy to have been scooped.” I press a quick kiss to his lips. “I’m thinking of letting Michelle take over next weekend’s event so we can do something.”

“I have a meeting in Macon on Friday afternoon. I was planning to drive back to Birmingham afterward but I won’t if you can take off and go with me. We could continue on to Savannah after my meeting and make a long weekend of it. My parents will be gone on their anniversary trip, but we can stay at the house.”

I’ve never been to Savannah; I’ve heard it’s beautiful. “I have a meeting with a big client on Friday, but I can reschedule. Her event is months down the road so it shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Do it. It’ll be our first getaway.”

“Our first getaway. I love the sound of that.”

Oliver kisses that dip at the base of my throat as his hands glide up my thighs. They aren’t shy about pushing my skirt up to my waist. “The door isn’t locked.”

“It’s after five on Friday. Everyone got out of here an hour ago.”

“Frankee didn’t.”

“No, but she’s not coming back either.”

“Are you sure?”