“You know that you can't buy burgers and stuff with diamond earrings, right?”
“This tiara,” Caroline said, pointing. “Is worth fifty thousand dollars. I’ll pawn it and use that money to…do whatever I need to do.” She looked down at her dress. “Just like I’ll sell this thing.” She held up her left hand and wiggled her fingers. “And this monstrosity? Half a million.”
Zander tucked his hands in his pockets “But you know you’re not gonna get half a mil for that from a pawn shop, right?”
“What do you mean?”
“I'm guessing you've never pawned anything before.”
She stopped at that. “Well, no. But I know the general gist. You go in and give them valuable things and they give you money in exchange.”
“But they’re not giving you full value. They might not even take some of this stuff if they don’t think they can resell it. People who are lookin’ for, and can afford, wedding dresses like that aren’t shopping in pawn shops, princess.”
Caroline knew she was staring. No, she’d never pawned anything before. And knew nothing about how pawn shops worked.
Well, fuck.
And he was right. She couldn’t just go to the front desk of a hotel, or an airline, or through a grocery line and offer a diamond tiara in exchange for a room, ticket, or bag of apples.
“Well, how much do you think I could get for this stuff?”
“Thousands, sure. You can get a great hotel room. A plane ticket to probably anywhere. But you’re not buying a new mansion or starting a brand new life.”
Caroline stared at the diamonds laying on the floor. Then she looked up at Zander. She believed him. “I'm in so much trouble.”
Zander started forward as Caroline crumpled.
Literally. She seemed to just curl into a ball and slump to the floor. She was one big blob of white satin and sparkles. And this time he was very sure she was going to cry.
Shit. Fuck. Damn.
Protective instincts surging, he went to one knee in front her.
He didn’t miss the irony of that. Within an hour of knowing her, he was on one knee in front of her. Cute. She was even already in the wedding dress.
Knock it off. He wasn’t sure if he was talking to the voice in his head, or Fate, or just the universe in general. But they all needed to knock it off.
“Hey, hey, you're okay,” he told her.
She sniffed. “I’m really not.”
Dammit. She’d sniffed.
“You are. You’ve got a place to stay, no fee. We’ll…figure the rest out.”
“I'm rich,” she looked up at him. “I really am. How can I be so fucked?”
See, responding to that the way his brain did at first was not cop-like, or gentlemanly, or at all appropriate. Or helpful. To either of them. She was in trouble and sad and in need of help. And she was not going to be…
Zander pulled in a deep, sharp breath. “You are not fucked,” he said firmly. “I’m gonna need you to take a deep breath. We’re going to fix this.”
Those blue-green eyes shimmering with tears and fear and then hope…hope that he would help her…made Zander’s chest tighten and his stupid palms itch.
He wanted to hug her.
Fucking hell. He wanted to hug her.
She took the deep breaths he’d insisted on. Then said, “I know how this is going to sound so just bear with me for a minute. But I'm rich. Like my dad has millions. Many, many millions. I have whatever I want. I don't intend to live like that forever, but for right now it's kind of a necessary evil. I have to pretend that I'm living that lifestyle so that I can get the intel I need. So I pretend that I don't know how to make my own money and how to get along in the world. Which means, for now, I'm completely dependent upon him for money and clothing and shelter and food…”
Her voice slowly rose to a near panic level and Zander found himself leaning in and taking her face between his two hands.
“Caroline. Breathe.” He said it softly, but firmly.
She stared at him. Then she breathed. Deeply. Twice.
“I’ve…” He really didn’t want to say this. But those eyes. “…got you,” he finally finished.
And then she combined looking up at him with those eyes with another of those smiles and Zander realized that he was very much the one who was fucked.
3
“Zander! What’s going on?”
Zander pulled back from her as a woman stepped into the foyer.
Caroline could imagine how she looked, sitting on the floor in a wedding dress, jewelry scattered all over, and Zander crouched in front of her trying to keep her from having a panic attack.
Actually, for a second there she’d really thought he’d been about to kiss her.
Wow, she could play the damsel in distress so well she’d fallen into that habit without even realizing it. Oops.
And dang, she regretted doing it to this guy. It clearly got to him. Because he was a good guy. Tears even got to some of the assholes she dealt with, but she might have turned this on too much for an actual nice guy who legitimately cared about other people.
She swiped at her cheeks and looked up at the woman with a smile, working to get to her feet.
Of course, she needed help because of the fucking dress. There was so much damned material, she couldn’t get her shoes on enough solid floor under her to get up.
The hot-chemical-whatever-it-was connection between them broken, Zander wrapped a big hand around her upper arm when he saw her struggling and hauled her to her feet.
“Hey, Heather,” he greeted the other woman. “I called out. You must not have heard me.”
“Oh, I had the mixer running in the kitchen.” Heather approached with a smile. “What do we have here?”
“This is Caroline. She's having…a day. She’s going to need a room.”
Heather looked her up and down and nodded. “We can do that.”
Caroline decided to answer the un-asked questions upfront. “Yes, this is a wedding dress. No, I didn't get married. Yes, I'm hiding out. No, I don't have any money.”
Zander sighed. And let go of her arm.
She hadn’t realized she’d been able to feel him through the fabric of the dress, but now her skin felt cool where he’d been holding her and she missed his touch instantly. It was stupid, but she felt safe with this guy. And…comforted. Wow, that was new.
He obviously thought all of this was a little crazy, but who wouldn't? The wedding dress alone was surely not an average Friday afternoon occurrence in his small-town bar. But paired with the lion cub in the pet carrier and her near-kidnapping, she could imagine the small-town cop was wondering what the hell had rolled into town.
“We're gonna work out the financial situation,” Zander said. “It's a favor to me, okay?”
Heather shook her head. “I'm not worried about that. Are you okay, honey?” she asked Caroline.
That was sweet. And Caroline gave her question some real thought. Maybe for the first time since leaving the church, actually. She took a deep breath and noticed the hint of cinnamon in the air as well as the scent coming off of Zander Landry. She couldn't quite place it. It was an outdoorsy, woodsy scent. And she wasn't so sure that it was cologne. She thought it was more likely how he smelled. She loved a good cologne, for sure, and had been close to many an expensive one, but the urge to put her nose against this cop’s neck and breathe deep was incredibly strong.