Scales: Of Justice (Broken But ... Mending Book 3) (21 page)

She sagged against him, and her anger melted away as she dimly heard the cheers rolling through the restaurant all around them. He released her and with his breath warm against her ears, he whispered. “I don’t know what the problem is, but this distance between us is over. I’d never…do anything to hurt you.”

Calmly, he sat her back down on her chair. Then he snagged an empty chair from another table and created a space for himself right beside her.

*

When she melted
in his arms, he’d known he made the right decision. It had been a spontaneous decision. He hated to think he was as primitive as his ancestors, but it had felt like staking a claim. Her response had made the agreement public.

God, he’d loved how quickly her shock had turned to enthusiasm and straight into complete surrender. It was that honesty he needed in his life. To know he could trust that response. People often lied with their words, but their bodies showed the truth.

And he loved her truth.

He’d stunned her and likely the whole workshop group, but everyone loved a happy ending, and damn, he was determined that would be their story. Sure, they had issues. The workshop and the cop for two of them, but after tomorrow, both would be over. Both impediments to their future gone. He just had to hang in there until…

He was sure they could do that.

He looked down at her and realized she appeared very distracted, out of it. Leaning back, staring down at their entwined fingers, his protective instincts rose to the surface. Dropping a gentle kiss on her forehead, when the waitress came around the table to his side, he quickly ordered for them both. He knew she had to be hungry. Whatever had been churning inside had to be eating at her. Time for her to fill up and give all the stress something else to work on.

She was an amazing person and she’d been doing so well.

He wanted to do anything he could to help her.

A thought struck him. He’d been so focused on helping Paris, he’d forgotten about his own needs. Then he stopped. No.

Originally he
had
been looking at his next professional step. While he hadn’t thought to be lucky enough to find a partner anytime soon, when he’d turned around – there she was.

Now all he had to do was keep her there.

Paris was his. No ifs, ands, or buts. She just had to wake up and see the same thing he saw – they were meant for each other.

Seriously satisfied, he tucked her more comfortably against him and turned his attention to the others.

H
er head still
singing, her heart still stuttering in her shock, her body hummed with joy and expectation over what was hopefully going to happen next…. Paris just sat, tucked up against Weaver’s side, his arm wrapped around her shoulders, as the bubbly conversation flowed around them.

The duality of the situation presented itself as she wanted to stay there like a limp attachment and never let go, yet she also wanted to smack him. Then ask him what the hell he’d been doing talking to
that
cop.

And she realized that’s where she’d gone wrong; judging him and walking away, not letting him back into her space until he’d
taken
his spot back. She’d never asked him about what she’d seen.

Never given him a chance to explain. So scared and panicked, she’d just sort of locked down inside until he’d taken matters into his own hands. It never occurred to her that any man would care for her enough to do that.

Thank heavens. She nestled into him, relishing his familiar smell and warmth.

The lunch arrived with a more than normal set of confusion with the double tables now combined and people no longer in their original seats. As a plate was set down in front of her, she started in surprise. She actually didn’t remember ordering.

“Hope this is okay,” Weaver said. “I ordered for both of us.”

How very controlling of him. No. She stopped and took a deep breath. How very caring. She was obviously still out of everything mentally, and he’d done what he could to smooth over any awkward moments. That was something she loved about him.

And then it hit her. Oh Lord. What if he’d been telling the cop to leave her alone?

Pulling back, she stared at him in stricken silence. Had she made such a big mistake against someone who’d only shown her kindness?

His gaze darkened as he caught her glance. Opening her mouth to say something, she suddenly became aware of their huge audience. She closed her mouth and pleaded for forgiveness with her eyes.

He opened his arm and tugged her back up close. Against her hair, he whispered, “Whatever it is that’s wrong, we’ll fix it. It’s okay.”

A shudder rippled down her back, an uncontrollable reaction to knowing she hadn’t blown something so special.

“Did you hear me?”

She nodded, but the movement was stifled by the fact she was wedged up against his chest.

“Good. Then let’s eat and keep the attention we’re attracting to a minimum.”

Right. She was making a spectacle of herself. She took a deep breath and straightened, then turned to face the others watching her curiously. She glanced down at her heaping plate then over at everyone else’s normal side plate and said, “Let me guess, Weaver ordered for me.”

Laughter broke out across the table.

“Hey, I know this girl,” Weaver said. “And boy, can she eat.”

Feeling blessed and once again back to normal, Paris picked up the first bite of the California roll and popped it into her mouth. Her world was good.

*

Well, thank heavens
for that. He’d been trying to figure out how to get back into her good graces, and it looked like he’d managed it.

For the moment.

For Paris, he’d do a lot to keep the peace. Relationships were filled with ups and downs, but they needed a foundation to be able to weather the changing tide. A couple of days in a workshop and one night of hot sex was not a foundation. It was, however, a starting point, and he’d take it. Last night had been an eye-opener for him. About himself and about her. The freedom she’d shown, the lack of restraint – she’d been wild – for her own joy and for his.

He’d never made love before.

That’s what was different. At least he thought so. It would take some more thinking about. He’d had sex before. Had been in several relationships, but he wasn’t sure that depth of emotion had ever been there. He’d been good friends with his wife, but the relationship had been comfortable, not passionate. The memories of last night swirled through him, making it hard to keep his mind on the lunch before him. Keeping her left hand in his right hand while they ate left him only his left hand to eat with. Something he wasn’t being very good at. But he’d rather look awkward and ridiculous than lose that physical contact.

“Here, try this.” As he turned to face her, he saw a sample of something coming toward him. She laughed, her beautiful eyes twinkling as she popped the morsel into his mouth.

“It looked like you were starving.”

His lips quirked and he squeezed her hand. “In that case, feel free to feed me.”

“Ha, that would mean sharing, and you know how great I am at that.”

He snorted. “You’re just plowing through your lunch and hoping to be done fast so you can polish off my plate,” he joked, loving the camaraderie. He caught several looks from the other attendees and a few were curious, but more were envious. And he realized how special this week had been. It wasn’t over, but it was damn close. Things were winding down. Tonight was the one-on-one for him with Jenna and likely for Paris as she hadn’t had one yet. Then tomorrow were projects followed by other speakers and wind-up sessions. Jenna always concluded on a Friday so the participants had the weekend to recuperate at home before they had to rejoin the real world. Smart strategy.

After today, he was feeling on the worn-out side himself. The emotional roller coaster had been brutal and he wasn’t off yet. Might not get onto a stable platform for a long time.

And he wouldn’t want it any other way. Not if Paris was that platform. He needed her. Her joy. Her insecurity. Her hope.

As he got to know her more, he realized in many ways she had done a better job of recuperating than he had.

She could show him a thing or two.

And after last night, he was dying to show her a few more things. He grinned and gave up on utensils with his left hand. He used his fingers and started to make a decent inroad into the various rice rolls on his plate.

P
aris finished her
plate, happy and content. She watched, a smirk on her face, as Weaver gave up on decorum and let hunger rule. No one said anything as he used his fingers. It was working for him, so she didn’t have a problem keeping his hand clasped in hers.

In fact, she wasn’t sure she could let him go. It was that nice. That important to keep that connection there. She needed it, and she needed him. They fit together in a way she had never anticipated being possible.

In her heart she knew he was right, they could work this out.

As he finished lunch, she got a text from Jenna confirming the time for her evening session. She responded, giving her an affirmative. It was going to be at seven-thirty tonight. A bit late, but doable. Jenna’s schedule was brutal, she knew. And she was lucky to have made as much progress as she had before her session with Jenna. It wouldn’t have made sense to have her session early in the week. She’d still be floundering.

Though she still was in many ways, she had come further than she’d expected thanks to Weaver. It was shocking how his gentle persistence had won her over.

When was his session with Jenna? Maybe it would be around the same time so they could be together afterwards.

The group finished their meals, paid their bills in a mess of laughter and confusion, and stood up. She let go of his hand and murmured something about going to the ladies’ room.

In the small room she stared at her face, seeing the fatigue from the night with little sleep and the hated confused emotions that had been rolling through her all morning. Using the facilities, she washed up, taking a moment to slap cold water on her cheeks and burning eyes. She still had the afternoon to get through.