He pulled her tight into his embrace, and the cold blob in her stomach began to melt, causing her to start to shake. "I'm fine," she said again. Her teeth chattered but she wasn't cold anymore. "He tried to rob me, but I wouldn't let him."
His hands cupped her face, and those blue eyes gleamed with a fierce protection and need that she hadn't seen from anyone since her father so many years ago.
"I know you didn't, sweetheart. He had no clue who he was dealing with. I'm so sorry I was late, I'm so sorry."
"Dalton?"
"Yeah?"
She tried to tell him it was okay, and she could take care of herself, and everything was just fine. But then she did something she hadn't done since the funeral.
She let go and burst into tears.
And Dalton caught her.
chapter eighteen
Dalton stepped through the door of Raven's house and wished to God he were here for a different reason.
The events of the night were still unreal. She had faced down a drugged-up gunman on her own. She'd kicked him in the face, grabbed the gun, and called 911, just like in a movie. And then she'd collapsed in his arms.
Now she was deadly quiet. He figured she was about to crash from the adrenaline high and needed to be in a safe place. He made the plan to bring her to her home and stay there. He'd sleep on a couch, but there was no fucking way he'd leave her alone.
"You don't have to stay."
He smiled at her, knowing she needed him to keep a lighthearted tone. "You're doing me a favor. I'm exhausted and would rather crash than drive home."
She tilted her head, considering. Her clothes were wrinkled. Exhaustion gleamed in her cat-slanted dark eyes, and her tangled hair fell over her shoulders. Her eye makeup was streaked from tears.
She was earth-shatteringly, heartbreakingly beautiful.
"I love your place."
She looked around as if seeing it for the first time. His fingers itched to touch all the gorgeous, sleek carved wood, from the beamed ceilings and pine floors to the tables and cabinetry to the built-ins that held her television and an array of artwork. Braided rugs added a touch of color and broke up the expanse of natural wood. The open room was decorated with simplicity and an earthy sensuality, like its owner. Magazines and books were stacked neatly on table surfaces, and in one corner a canvas cloth covered up what could be artwork. The stone fireplace added warmth. The leather furniture looked roomy and touchable. It reflected a house well lived in and enjoyed.
"Thanks. Want coffee?"
"Yeah. Can I make it? I don't want to be up on a caffeine high till next week."
A smile touched her lips. She led him into the kitchen, which was open to the living room and contained a cute nook with two tables and a bench overlooking a nicely sized window. She pointed out the pot and filters.
"No Keurig?"
She sat down on the bench. "Can't get your coffee strong using a Keurig."
"Remind me to get you one for your birthday."
"It passed. February third."
"Remind me to get you one anyway."
He made the coffee in comfortable silence, until the familiar dripping sounds filled the air. He took out two mugs and sat down next to her. "Want to talk about it?"
"Yes. No. I don't know."
He reached out and snagged her hand. She instantly tangled her fingers in his, and something within him calmed. "I'm not trying to sound like a shrink or push. I just think sharing exactly what happened before it has time to fester is a good idea. I'd also like to know, so I'm asking for me."
She nodded slowly. "Yeah, you may be right. Thing is, I'm really okay, Dalton. It was scary as hell, and I hated myself for making the stupid mistake of not locking the door. I got sloppy."
"Happens to all of us. You just finished your poker night, right?"
"Yes. We had about a dozen women, and it was a lot of fun. They stayed later than I anticipated, so I had decided to load the dishwasher, and I was going to my phone to text you and cancel tonight."
He winced. Would he ever forgive himself for not getting there sooner? Then again, would walking in on a gunman have been worse? She'd managed to save herself and needed no prince on horseback. He waited to see if he'd feel an ego bite, but there was nothing but pumped-up pride for his woman.
His woman.
He pushed that thought to the side, for now. "I got held up. I had texted you, but when you didn't answer, I figured I'd just show up. What did the asshole do?"
She took a deep breath and told him the whole story. He let her pour it out, not interrupting her, just squeezing her hand when she paused. Her bravery under crippling fear was extraordinary, but now was not the time to tell her how proud he was. He handed her a mug of steaming coffee, and she drank it slowly. "I need an alarm now."