So why was he here, standing in this tiny, rodent-infested kitchen arguing with a female who did not want his help or guidance?
Because this wasn’t about what she wanted. But what she needed. Help.
He’d agreed to abide by the rules when he’d mo
ved here. He’d actually laughed when Jake had laid them all out for him. Not that he didn’t agree with the rules. It was a man’s place to protect those smaller and weaker than himself. No, he hadn’t been laughing at the rules, but rather Jake’s beliefs that those rules would be upheld. That people would follow them. That he actually had a hope of upholding them.
The town had proven him wrong. The people who lived here were different. Not just because some of them chose to be involved in ménage relationships or in BDSM. But because they cared about each other. Because, here, men really did protect all of the women and children.
He’d only planned on staying long enough to make sure that Jake, one of the few people he cared about in the world, was okay before he moved on. But this place had sucked him in. Haven had healed him after Rebecca’s death. And he figured he needed to give back. It would give balance. So, yeah, he might have interfered a time or two in order to steer people in the direction he figured they needed to go. And they might not necessarily have liked his methods. But they worked.
But he couldn’t walk away from Aspen now. Whether she liked his methods of helping her or not wasn’t actually of much interest to him.
Taking care of her was.
“I’m not here because I think you’re a bad mother. On the contrary, it’s obvious you give everything to your boys.” He studied her pale, wan face. And there wasn’t much left over after that. She was burning herself out. “But you’re no good to them if you don’t look after yourself.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m fine.”
“Sure, you are.”
“What does that mean?” Her eyes flashed fire.
He shook his head. “How did I ever mistake you as timid?”
Red filled her cheeks, and she looked down, her shoulders hunching. “Sorry.”
Guilt slashed at him. Oh, no. Now that wouldn’t do.
He stepped forward and took hold of her chin, tilting her face up. “I didn’t say it was a bad thing.” He ran a thumb over her cheek. He hadn’t liked the way she curled in on herself, as though she were ashamed.
She straightened her shoulders. “Why are you here?”
“Well, it’s not to condemn you as being a bad mother or to collect on an imagined debt—”
“It’s not an imagined debt.”
“Please don’t interrupt me,” he reprimanded in a soft voice.
She stared up at him for a moment, looking unsure. “Sorry.”
“I’m here because you haven’t been at the diner. Peggy said you’ve called in sick for the last three days and I,” was concerned, “thought I should check on you.”
She licked her lips. “I’m fine.”
“I wouldn’t say that exactly.” He ran his gaze over her, and she stiffened, throwing her shoulders back with a frown. Better. “But you don’t seem ill. Have you been lying, little girl?”
“No.”
He ground his teeth together. Then forced himself to walk over to where he’d laid the bag of food he’d brought from the diner. He pulled out the cardboard containers filled with food.
“These will be cold by now but should be okay once they’re reheated.”
“Oh, you didn’t have to bring food with you.” But she moved over and grabbed a container and popped it into the ancient microwave.
“Considering the state of your cupboards, it seemed I did,” he growled back. “Why don’t you have any food?”
She stared at the microwave as though willing it to cook faster. “I’ve been sick, remember? Haven’t had time to get to the market.”