Accidental Knight: A Marriage Mistake Romance(49)

I’m reminded how long I’ve been away as we hug. I remember her hair being brown. It’s half white now, but her smile is the same, taking over her entire face.

“It’s good to be home, Shelia,” I tell her.

The truth hits a second later. It is good to be home, isn’t it?

The change of her hair color reinforces the fact that I’ve been gone too long.

I never realized how good the people of this town were to me. My memories were all focused on Gramps, but it was more than him.

It’s Shelia, and so many others like her who always made me feel welcomed, and missed, on each and every visit.

She steps back and grasps my shoulders. “You’re so grown up, and as adorable as ever!” Frowning, she touches my cheek. “Is this from last night?”

Before I can answer, she turns to Drake. “Where else was she injured?”

His eyes darken. They’d been bright blue earlier, when he’d been laughing about being scared, but now they’re a midnight shade.

“Her palms and forearms got scraped, but her leg was sliced open by the trip line they’d put out,” he answers.

“Oh, no. How bad?” Shelia asks, grasping my hands and flipping them over to examine my palms.

She’s more than just a concerned friend, now she’s in evidence mode.

“Not bad,” I say, pulling back my hands. “I’m totally fine.”

“I put butterfly stitches on her leg,” Drake says.

My face heats, remembering how he helped, so gentle and in charge. I flash him a look that says enough already.

He lifts a brow, but it’s his eyes I focus on. There’s a challenge in them.

Payback, maybe, for what I told Mom about him living with me. But hell, we’re married, aren’t we?

“Scumbags,” Shelia hisses. “Don’t you worry. They’re already apprehended, cooling their heels in jail. Rodney won’t let them get away with this.”

Drake lifts his other brow. I get why. It’s funny to hear her call the sheriff just Rodney.

I still can’t believe he’s right, that they’re married. I didn’t need proof, but think it’s cute that he’s rubbing it in with his subtle told ya eyebrow.

“This way,” Shelia says. “Rodney’s waiting for you.”

Drake places a hand on my back and follows me through the open door to where my parents are standing. The heat of his palm penetrates the material of my shirt like it’s nothing.

God, it feels good, especially thanks to the rabid glare Mom levels on all three of us.

Glancing up, I lift a brow of my own to tell him, see what we’re up against?

He winks at me. It’s quick, but it’s there.

I pinch my lips together at how such a simple gesture makes my cheeks burn, but then I let a full-blown smile come.

Mom saw his wink, too. I see how her gaze intensifies, how her fingers fold into fists, how her lips twitch like a rabbit denied its dinner. She can’t possibly believe anyone would dare have any claim to my mind except her.

She lets out a subtle hiss before snapping at Shelia, “Her name’s Annabelle, you know.”

“Sure it is. And she’ll always be our little Bella-Bell,” Shelia answers, opening a door.

“Don’t wear it out,” Drake says, a smirk pulling at his lips. “A beautiful name for a beautiful lady.”

My knees suddenly don’t want to work, and it’s got nothing to do with the beating they took last night.

Mom sucks in so much air I worry she might pop like a balloon. I consider nudging Drake, tell him it’s too much, but decide not to.

“What can I say? Gramps gave me the nickname, and it stuck. Sometimes, we let the people closest to us give us special names.”

“He gave you special in spades,” Drake tells me. “Bet there’s not a lot of chicks walking around named after badasses who used to own the skies.”

I smile, weirdly impressed he remembers my middle name. It shouldn’t be so shocking after he signed the papers, but...

“Oh, please. The real Amelia Earhart was never any relation,” Mom says, angrily flipping the zipper tag on her purse. “That old man made it all up to make himself seem more impressive.”

Shelia rolls her eyes and shakes her head as Drake and I walk past her into the room. I smile at her, and then at the sheriff who stands near a table.

He hasn’t changed at all. Rodney Wallace is as tall as ever and still waxing his mustache so the long tips curl up like the Kaiser a hundred years ago, wearing his stiff-brimmed cowboy hat.

He nods at us. I wave in return, but sense Drake stiffen at my side.

I glance up, wondering why the sudden hardness of his stance makes my insides shudder.

Following his gaze, I see why.

Avery Briar sits perched in the room on a chair in the center, adjusting his tie.

“Howdy, Bella-Bell,” the sheriff says. “Mr. Larkin. I believe you both know Mr. Briar.”

“We do,” I say, wondering what would happen if I told the entire room my last name is Larkin, too.

I don’t know why that hits me right now, but it does.

Mom would pitch one hell of a fit if it slipped out. Right here. Right now.

She’d try to find a way to put a stop to it, too. I don’t need that right now, but I won’t mind making them wonder what’s really going on between me and Drake.