Love Me If You Dare (Bachelor Blogs 2)

Thank God he’d already convinced Sara it was time to move out. These two gentlemen irritated the hell out of him, and he reassessed his earlier thought about his brother accepting a distracted wife. Especially if she was distracted catering to other men. Paying guests or not, Rafe now knew why his brother was uncomfortable with his wife’s new occupation.

Suddenly Sara nudged Rafe with her elbow. “I asked if you were going to get Angel or whether I should?”

Rafe wasn’t about to pull Angel away from Nick. Hopefully they could use the time outside alone to communicate in a positive manner.

“She’s busy right now.” Rafe turned to the two guests. “Why don’t you do as the lady said and wait in the foyer until she comes back inside.”

They shot each other a wary glance and stepped into the small waiting area. Good. Rafe wanted them on guard around his women.

The sudden thought unsettled him. Being protective of Angel made sense. He was looking out for his brother’s wife and their fragile marriage. Being possessive of Sara was another story. She wasn’t part of his family. Nor was he involved with her personally. Hell, he’d deliberately taken a step back from that ledge. Besides, she didn’t need his protection. Rafe and everyone in the NYPD knew Sara could take care of herself. In fact, she wouldn’t be here now but for her injury. He knew as well as anyone that even at less than one hundred percent, Sara was a force to be reckoned with. It was one of the things he admired about her. One of the things he didn’t want any other men admiring, too.

“What’s wrong with you?” Sara whispered her question so the men couldn’t hear.

Before he could answer, the back door slammed shut with way too much force, rattling the pictures on the walls. Obviously there’d been no real communication between Nick and Angel after all.

“Angel, you have guests!” Sara called out before whip ping around back to Rafe. “Well? What’s wrong?” Hands on her hips, she tapped one foot impatiently.

Jealousy, that’s what was wrong with him. He was jealous of perfect strangers who’d looked at her with interest.

Something he wasn’t about to admit.

“Let’s just get going,” he suggested. Before he did or said something to embarrass himself further.

SARA LEFT HER CAR PARKED at Angel’s. She’d pick it up another time, and went home with Rafe. He was silent on the drive back to his house. He’d been grumpy and moody since Angel’s guests had arrived. Rude and obnoxious had been more like it. Maybe he was just being protective of his brother’s marriage? But would that keep him in a bad mood now?

As they approached his long driveway, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone, glancing at the number before answering the call.

“Hi, Aunt Vi.” He listened, shook his head. “Wait. Slow down. And speak louder. I can barely hear you over the crackling.” He cast a glance at Sara. “Told you service was bad here.”

She nodded and settled in to wait.

Rafe stopped the Jeep at the end of the driveway as he obviously struggled to hear his aunt yet keep her calm at the same time.

“I’ll be right over, okay? See you in two minutes. Bye.” He disconnected the call, then turned to Sara. “Sorry, but Aunt Vi is having some kind of crisis. I couldn’t understand her through her hysteria, so I need to drop by for a few minutes.”

“That’s fine.” Sara didn’t mind.

He backed out of the driveway, and, not one minute later, they pulled onto a street directly off Main. He parked the car in front of a small Cape-styled house and cut the engine.

“I can wait in the car,” Sara offered. She didn’t want to intrude if his aunt was upset.

To her surprise, Rafe shook his head. “Come on in. I should warn you that Aunt Vi is prone to hysterics. Maybe seeing company will calm her down faster.”

Sara shrugged. She hopped out of the Jeep and followed him up the path to the house. He rang once and let himself inside.

Another interesting part of small-town living: the unlocked doors and the easy entry and access everyone had into each other’s homes and lives. So different from the city. The neighborliness and comfort had to lead to more intimate friendships. The kind Sara lacked in the big city. Once she entered her apartment, she could lock the door and not see anyone for hours, days or weeks, depending on her mood.

“Aunt Vi?” Rafe called out.

“I’m in the living room!”

Rafe led Sara to a small foyer that opened into a cozy family room. An older woman with salt-and-pepper-colored hair sat on a couch covered by a hand-knit afghan blanket, a box of tissues by her side.

“Oh, Rafe, you’re such a good boy to come over.” She sniffled and forced a smile at Rafe before her stare settled on Sara. “Oh! I didn’t realize you’d be bringing company!”

The woman jumped up from her seat and began to fuss with her already perfectly coiffed hair. Hair that could only be done in a salon and finished off by a ton of Aqua Net hair spray.

“Aunt Vi, I want you to meet Sara Rios, my friend from New York. Sara, this is my aunt Vi.”

Sara shook her hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“What’s wrong?” Rafe asked, walking up to her and placing a strong, comforting hand on her shoulder.

Aunt Vi gripped a tissue tighter in her hand. She’d obviously been crying.

“I’ll just wait in the car.” Feeling like an intruder, Sara turned to leave.

“No, no. You’re the woman who stayed by Rafe’s side when he was critically injured, right? My brother told me you were in town. That makes you like family, so please stay.”

Sara raised an eyebrow at how quickly Rafe’s aunt had welcomed her. Her own father would still be shooting questions at Rafe in order to discover whether he liked him or not.

“Thank you,” Sara said. She chose a chair and settled in, remaining unobtrusively quiet while Rafe spoke to his aunt.

“Sit.” Rafe guided the middle-aged woman back to the couch. “What’s going on? And why didn’t you call Janice or Judy?”

“Those are my daughters,” Aunt Vi helpfully explained to Sara. Then she turned back to Rafe. “I called you because you’re a cop. You know how to find things out about people.”

Rafe narrowed his gaze. “What things? What people?”

“It’s Pirro.” The other woman sniffled. “He…he…he’s having an affair!” she wailed, pulling tissues from the box and blowing her nose loudly.