She knew it wasn’t his fault. He wasn’t the one who’d attacked her. But…
She felt her body freeze in tension, old memories pushing in. Things she tried not to remember. Things she’d never been able to forget.
“You okay?” Ben asked, looking concerned.
She didn’t know how to make herself talk, breathe, move, and then she felt strong, reassuring hands around her, holding her tight.
Dante pulled her in against his muscular chest. “She’s fine. It was just a long flight.”
And that snapped her out of her shock. She gave Dante a grateful look. “Everyone, this is Dante.” She took him around for introductions, and she was pleasantly surprised by how hard everyone tried to hide their utter shock.
“We’ll need to get our luggage, and if it’s okay, I think we’re going to meet everyone at home,” Dante said. “You rented a car, right, Ella?”
“I did?” she asked, blinking. “Oh, I did.”
Her mother hesitated but then nodded. “We’ll see you at home, then.”
When her family had left, looking eagerly behind them to wave good-bye, Dante folded his arms and stared. “You want to tell me what that was about?”
She shook her head. “It’s nothing.”
“Nothing? You froze. You were terrified.”
She rubbed her arms and then headed for the carousel for one of their suitcases. He beat her to it and lifted it easily off as if it weighed nothing.
He was quite a gentleman.
When he had their suitcases and they were headed to the rental desk, he turned to face her. “I’m sorry for touching you without permission. But you were frozen and I had to do something.”
“Right,” she said. “It was awkward.”
“Not because of that,” he said. “Because you were scared. I don’t like it when you’re scared.”
Then you aren’t going to like me a lot of the time while we’re here, a voice inside her said darkly.
“What was that?” he asked, almost as if he’d heard her.
“Can you read my mind?”
He grinned. “I can, but I’ve been told it’s rude.”
She laughed. “Right. It is. You’re ridiculous. I hope you know that.”
“Only when I need to be,” he retorted. “I hope you aren’t mad about the rental car.”
“No,” she said. “That was smart thinking.”
“I figured the last thing you needed was to be in the car with that—how do women say it? Douche.”
She laughed again, finally feeling her body relax and go back to mostly normal. “Yeah. Douche.”
“Right. Well, just trust me. I’ll be your anti-douche for the duration of your stay.”
She tried to hide the warmth welling in her at his words. He had no idea how much it meant to feel not alone in this town that had once held so much horror. “Thanks.”
He nodded. “Now, should we go pick out something fancy? I want to ride in style.”
She laughed. “If you’re paying for it.”
“Sure,” he said, his hands in his pockets.
“No, no,” she said. “We don’t need a sports car, and I’m not letting you pay.”
He grumbled, but together, they decided on a car, and she took a deep breath as they walked outside, ready to greet the day together.
Dante found the small town of Heber, Utah, to be much different from Seattle where their club was based.
For one thing, there were mountains everywhere, and instead of being covered by lush foliage, they were covered in craggy cliffs, trails, and dotted by pine trees and quaking aspens.
There was a wild sort of beauty there, and her parents’ ranch up above the small town exemplified that.
He noted with interest that they appeared to have horses and livestock on the considerable acres of land behind the main cabin, which was more like a large lodge.
It seemed to have been built a long time ago, but it had stood up to the test of time, probably through superior workmanship.
As he carried his and Ella’s suitcases inside and up the hewn-log steps, he marveled at the way all the wood had been fit together perfectly and glazed.
The door opened, and Ella’s dad Ron greeted them. He was tall and slim with graying, thin hair and kind eyes behind glasses attached behind his neck by a chain.
He reached out a hand to shake Dante’s, but there was a hint of hesitation in his gray-blue eyes, though he tried to mask it. Dante would have to figure that out later. He couldn’t have his mate’s parents disapproving of him.
Ella was hugging her dad when her mom came around the corner and beamed.
Ella’s mother Grace was a perfect spitting image of Ella in a lot of ways. Same short, curvy build, broad smile, loud laugh, and wild curls. At least if Ella ever let her hair down.