Melanie smiled at Wyatt through the door before walking her daughter to her room.
“Did you brush your teeth?” Melanie asked while she turned down the bed.
“I forgot.”
She waved her daughter toward her bathroom and went about tiding up the room. She placed the book on the shelf beside the others while the sound of water running kept her company. She knew Patrick Lewis, or whatever the hell his name was, pushed her daughter. The doctors had said she might remember . . . or she might not. Somehow, Melanie had wished Hope wouldn’t recall that moment when her trust had been broken.
As much as she wanted to shelter her daughter from all the evil in the world, it was obvious she couldn’t.
The water turned off, and Hope walked past her and jumped into bed.
Melanie painted on a smile, one she didn’t really feel, and tucked her daughter in.
“I’m glad Uncle Wyatt is here.”
“I am, too.”
Hope placed her arm on a pillow. “Mommy?”
“Yeah, honey?”
“If the queen comes again . . . I’m going to push her down the hill first.”
What was she supposed to say to that? “I think you’ll have to get in line. You have a lot of dwarfs who want to push her for you.”
Melanie kissed her daughter and left the room, leaving the door open.
Wyatt waited outside in the hall. “You heard all that, right?”
She nodded toward the stairs to lead the conversation away from Hope’s room.
As soon as they rounded the stairs and Wyatt turned on the lights in the sitting room, Melanie let him gather her into his arms.
“She’s going to be okay,” he whispered into her hair.
“Her fairy tales are littered with black clouds. I hate that he did that to her.”
“None of this is right.”
The weight of Wyatt’s arms around her grounded the world. “We should call Jo, let her know what Hope said.”
“We all knew the man pushed her.”
She moaned and Wyatt leaned back to look down.
“We’ll call Jo in the morning. I’d hate to wake the woman if she found time to sleep.”
Melanie agreed with a nod.
Wyatt ran his fingertips down the side of her face. “Hope isn’t the only one with dark clouds in her fairy tales.”
“I don’t believe in fairy tales.”
“Oh, really?”
She shook her head. “Magical kisses and princes who save the day? Doesn’t happen.”
There was a twinkle in Wyatt’s eyes. “What about the knight?”
She paused.
“You mean the man who offers to put his responsibilities aside to protect the princess?”
“Yeah, him . . . do you believe in him?”
He was fishing.
And Melanie needed to laugh.
“No, he doesn’t exist either.”
Wyatt pretended shock by placing a hand over his heart.
“Oh, you mean you?” She grinned.
Wyatt reached around and pinched her ass.
She squealed and hopped away from his hand.
“I’ll get you for that.”
She scrambled around the couch and put several feet between them. “Have to catch me first.”
He bent his knees and acted as if he could hurdle over the couch, then darted right and chased her around the sofa. She caught herself squealing and muffled the sound.
“Are you ticklish, Mel?”
She did a little hop, step, jog over a cord to avoid toppling a lamp.
“I’ll never tell.” She placed a high-back chair between them and used it as a shield to keep him from grabbing her. Problem was, she was literally cornered. Distraction would be the key to getting away.
“Now where you gonna go?”
“I have superpowers,” she told him.
“Oh?”
She stopped pretending like she was going to run and brought both hands to the top button on her shirt.
Wyatt’s eyes were drawn to her chest, and he paused.
After releasing one button, she teased the top of her breast with the back of her index finger.
Then she ran from behind the chair to the right. She made it three feet before Wyatt’s arms wrapped around her waist, his fingers dancing over her, making her giggle.
“You are ticklish!”
“No I’m n—” He found a spot under her arm and had her doubling over.
She tried to twist away, but his grip wouldn’t let her go. Wyatt relented the tickle attack and lifted her off her feet. When he set her down, her back met the sofa and he was on top of her, pinning both her arms with one of his hands.
And the tickling continued.
“Oh, my . . . Wyatt, I’m warning you . . .”
He didn’t stop. “What are you going to do?”
She attempted to buck him off. He didn’t budge.
“I don’t know, but I’ll figure it out.”
Wyatt sighed and eased up his efforts.
And Melanie was smiling. It felt so good to laugh and forget, even for a few minutes.
“You have a beautiful smile,” he whispered.
“Says the man with dimples.”