Oh my God.
Blood rushed so fast from my head I felt dizzy. I stepped back, bumping into the desk. He knew. How did he know that? Were those kind of records available? There hadn’t been a trial. There hadn’t been a need for one. The Groom had died, and even though a lot of info had leaked to the press, that hadn’t.
I gasped. “How . . . did you know that?”
“I’m a reporter, Miss Keeton. It’s my job to know things.”
“That’s enough,” Mom snapped before Striker could answer. She pushed on the door again. “I’m giving you ten seconds to get off my property before I call the police.”
“That won’t be necessary,” a deep, rough voice said, and my heart did that unsteady flip again. Over Striker’s shoulder, I saw Cole stalk through the entryway, and he looked furious. He clapped a hand down on Striker’s shoulder and spun him around, away from the door. “He’s leaving now.”
Striker stumbled to the side, his eyes widening when he came face-to-face with Cole. Surprise flickered over his face. “I know who you are.”
Cole smirked. “Then you should know that you better be getting the hell off this property.”
“I’m not breaking a law,” he challenged. “Surely not a federal one.”
“Actually, you will be breaking a law. This is a private property, and they’ve asked you to leave.” Cole stalked toward Striker, forcing him back. “You don’t leave, that’s a law you’re breaking.”
The center of Striker’s cheeks flushed red. He opened his mouth as if he were about to say something but then snapped his jaw closed. He glanced over at me and then pivoted around, hurrying off the porch. Cole closed the door.
“Thank you, Cole,” Mom gushed while I was still standing practically petrified in front of the desk. “I was seconds away from picking up that floor lamp and beating him over the head with it until he left.”
Cole’s lips did that twitch thing that said he was fighting a smile. I slowly looked over at my mom. “That would’ve been a damn shame too. I purchased that lamp from Wayfair after searching for months for the perfect one,” she added.
My gaze darted to the floor lamp in question and I frowned. There was nothing special about it. It was a white lampshade on a gray pole.
“Well, I’m glad I saved the floor lamp.” He reached into his pocket and drew out a set of keys. “Your truck is parked outside.”
Remembering the truck and everything else, I snapped out of it. “Thank you for bringing it back. You didn’t have to do that.”
His cool gaze drifted over to me. “But I did.”
Those three words again. They were haunting me. So were those eyes. Cole had left this morning before I stepped out of my bedroom, but not before turning on my coffeemaker and letting it brew so it would be ready for me.
So damn thoughtful.
Our gazes met in an instant, and I drew in a shaky breath. He was several feet away from me, but it felt like he was standing right against me. I swore I could feel the warmth of his body. Though there were a ton of things that I needed to be focused on, all I could think about in that moment was what Cole had said to me last night about second chances and breaking down walls.
And I so needed to get a grip.
Focusing on my mom, I said, “I’m sorry about that.”
Her brows knitted together. “Why are you apologizing, honey? That’s not your fault.”
“I know, but what if one of the guests were here to hear that?” I crossed my arms. “That’s not exactly something that will help us book rooms.”
“Still isn’t your fault, babe,” Cole said.
Babe?
“Is that the first time he’s been here?” Cole asked.
“Yes,” Mom answered, smoothing a hand over the hem of her loose sweater. “Back after everything happened, it was a very frequent occurrence, but that was the first time he showed.”
“If he does again, you let me know,” Cole offered, folding his arms. He was wearing a black henley, and this time I noticed the gun holstered at his hip, tucked under the hem of the shirt. “I’ll make sure he gets the message.”
“Hopefully we won’t continue to have that problem.” Mom plastered on a smile I wasn’t sure was real. “I think he just caught us off guard.”
As I listened to Mom and Cole, something the reporter said started to nag at me. I pressed my lips together as I replayed what Striker said. Then it hit me.
“The mayor,” I whispered.
Mom turned toward me. “What, honey?”
I blinked as Cole’s gaze sharpened. “Nothing. Just thinking out loud.”
Cole did the hand thing with a head tilt this time, reaching back and clasping the back of his neck as he eyed me.
Mom glanced back and forth between us. There was a pause. “I’ll take care of the Mattersons’ room.”
I turned at the waist. “I said I would do it.”
“It’s okay.” She was already at the stairs. “You go ahead and chat with Cole.” She beamed at him like he’d invented flying cars. “Thank you again for making sure my daughter was responsible last night,” she said, and I barely was able to resist rolling my eyes. “And thank you for getting my truck back to me.”
“No problem, Mrs. Keeton.” One side of his lips kicked up. “I will always make sure your daughter is responsible.”
I snorted under my breath. Totally ladylike, but I couldn’t help myself.
“Did you say something, babe?” Cole asked.
I looked up, arching a brow. “Nothing.” I paused. “And don’t call me babe.”
“Cute,” Mom said, with one hand on the railing. “So cute.”
My eyes narrowed as I watched her climb the stairs. Her steps were a little slow, and I wasn’t sure if something was paining her or if she was just taking her sweet old time, hoping to overhear Cole and me.
Probably the latter.
I waited until Mom was out of sight and then turned to Cole. Before I could say a word, he crossed the short distance between us, and I leaned against the desk, angling his body toward mine. I had to tip my chin up to meet his eyes.
“I was being serious earlier. If that jackass shows up again, you let me know,” he said, voice low. “I’ll make sure he fully understands.”
I started to tell him that wasn’t necessary, but then I realized I’d told Cole that about a dozen or so times since he walked through these doors. It struck me then, as I stood beside him, close enough to touch him, that I didn’t want to tell him that.
What he offered was necessary.