Page 13 of Better Off Wed
“Sadie.”
“I’m not acompletemoron?—”
“Sadie.”
“What!”
Gideon prowled closer, then crouched down beside the front wheel of my car. The completely flat front wheel of my car that I’d walked by without noticing. His finger traced a clean slice in the rubber, and a brow arched before he lifted his gaze to meet mine.
I blinked at the slash in my tire. Cold fear filled my belly. “What’s that?”
Gideon’s jaw tightened as we stared at the flat tire. His narrowed gaze flicked from my wheel to the church doors, the blue of the spray paint just visible at this angle.
“You think it was Mr. Titty?” I asked.
“Not his M.O.,” he answered gruffly, but his eyes stayed glued to the boob graffiti.
A gust of wind blew past us, and I wrapped Gideon’s jacket tighter around me. Gideon’s gaze snapped over to me, and the valley between his brows grew deeper. “How’s your ankle?”
I blinked at the change in subject. “It’s fine.”
“Don’t lie to me, Sadie.”
I planted my hands on my hips. “How long is it going to take you to figure out that I mean what I say?”
He huffed. “That would make you the opposite of every other woman I’ve ever met.”
“Rude.” I turned back to my car, glaring at the gaping wound in the tire. “I need to get these fixed. Is there a tow truck in town?”
“I’ll handle it,” Gideon said, reaching into his pocket for his phone. He shifted closer as he made a call, his free hand moving to the middle of my back. He murmured into his phone, then met my gaze. “What do you need from the car? We’ll move it over to mine.”
I blinked at him, then at the tire. “But—I don’t—I need to… There’s a spare tire in the back…”
“Sadie.”
I looked up at him, wide-eyed. Someone had slashed my tire. On my wedding day. Why? Who?
His touch was gentle as he curled a finger under my chin. “I will handle this.”
Oh, wow. I stood there, struck by the surety in his voice. It was the first time in a long time that I hadn’t had to deal with every disaster on my own. Gideon was shouldering the burden, even though he clearly didn’t want to be married to me. I didn’t know what that meant.
“Tell me what you need from your car.”
I pointed to the two suitcases I’d brought with me, and Gideon hauled them out of the trunk as if they weighed nothing. The one cardboard box had work stuff in it; I wouldn’t need that right away. I grabbed the big tote bag from the front seat, wondering at the vandalism. Someone could have smashed the window and grabbed my stuff. But nothing was gone. The tire had simply been punctured, as if in warning.
Gideon put my bags in the trunk of his car, then opened the passenger door and loaded me up. He waited until I was clicked in, his jacket oversized and bulky under the seatbelt. With one hand on the doorframe and the other on the edge of the door, Gideon stood in the opening, watching me.
“Am I in danger?” I whispered.
“No.” His voice was resolute. Intractable. “We don’t know this was directly targeting you. Petty crime has been on the rise. You’ve got a nice car. Could just be bad luck.”
It made me feel a bit better. “Okay.”
“I’ll find out who did this.” His words were gritted out through clenched teeth; there was nothing warm about them. Still, they caused a wave of soft, gooey heat to go through me. It felt a little pathetic, to be so affected by a man acting like a big, macho provider. I didn’t need a provider; I needed a partner.Still, coming to Marswood Harbor had been impulsive, and the whole day had been full of such conflicting emotions that I felt like I had whiplash. Gideon’s words eased some of that discomfort, made me feel like I had somewhere safe to land. Like I had a home.
And wasn’t that just the silliest thing to feel in a situation like this?
My desire to be independent lost to the desire to feel safe. So I nodded, and Gideon closed the door. His car smelled like him, and I took a deep breath into my lungs as he circled to the driver’s side. We turned out of the lot and headed down the hill toward the water. Then we turned again, left the town limits, and snaked along a tree-covered hillside. The ocean glittered to my right as the last sliver of the sun went down behind the hills.
