Well Matched (Well Met #3)(44)

She nodded, but before she left she threw her arms around me in an unexpected hug. “I love you, you know,” she murmured. “And I’ve got your back if you need it. We’ve got your back.”

“I know.” I blinked away those threatening tears again and patted her arm. I was terrible at this whole PDA thing. “Now, get out of here. Go be Mrs. Graham. He needs you.”

She sketched a little salute before darting back into the crowd to rescue her husband, and I finished off my punch. As I refilled my paper cup, I took another look around the hall, needing to have eyes on the man I was doing my best to avoid. Oh shit. They weren’t far away. And they were coming closer to the refreshment table. But Robert hadn’t seen me yet.

My courage failed me, not that there had been much to begin with. But all my senses said, Nope, in unison, and before I could process it I’d taken a big step backwards, then a second. Then I turned tail and ran out of there like the giant chickenshit I was. Past Ms. Howe and her tables of name tags and out the double doors into the night. I stopped on the landing and tried to remember how to breathe.

Tears mingled with my heaving breaths, and I turned back toward the entrance, ready to take one last look at my failure. But my view was obscured entirely by a brick wall. A brick wall wearing jeans and a button-down shirt, who’d followed me outside.

“Whatcha doing hiding out here?” Mitch asked.





Twelve





Um . . .” I stared up at him and tried to formulate an answer. It was next to impossible, as Mitch appearing in front of me out of nowhere had scrambled what was left of my brain cells.

I hadn’t seen Mitch since he’d dropped me off in my driveway on Sunday, and somehow I’d managed to forget how blue his eyes were. We both had blue eyes, sure, but mine were dark, almost inky, while his were bright. Alive. And set off now to great effect by the royal-blue tie he wore with his button-down shirt and jeans. He had one of those little pin-back name tags too. This was the most dressed up I’d ever seen him, and so instead of saying something snarky I just gaped up at him.

“Oh, God, are you drinking that shit? All that sugar will kill you.” He took the cup out of my hand—because in my panic I’d apparently brought my sherbet punch with me—and tossed back the rest of it before pitching the cup into a trash can about ten feet away.

“Show-off,” I said weakly.

“You know it.” He leaned an arm on the wall over my head, caging me in, cutting me off from the rest of the world. With anyone else this would be a threatening move, but when he looked down at me I didn’t feel threatened. I felt protected. I wanted to throw my arms around him in gratitude. I wanted to climb him like a tree.

But I did neither one of those things, because we were in public. Anyone could walk by.

“So what are you doing out here?” He nodded his head back toward the door we’d both just come through. “You know the party’s in there, right?”

“Yeah, but I . . . I can’t . . .” There was too much happening in my head right now and I couldn’t articulate any of it. I shook my head hard and dug in my purse for my keys. “I have to go.” But I fumbled my keys and they jangled to the ground.

“Okay.” Mitch scooped them up. “Come on. I’ll take you home.”

“No . . .” But he’d already taken my hand, leading me into the parking lot to my SUV. “You don’t need to . . . aren’t you supposed to be working this thing?”

He shook his head. “The only people who want to talk to me are the sports parents, and they grabbed me early. I’m just scenery at this point.” He clicked my key fob, and my SUV chirped in response. I wanted to protest, but instead I chose the path of least resistance and let Mitch bundle me into the passenger seat of my own vehicle.

“Was that him?” Mitch’s voice was casual and he didn’t look at me as he navigated into the Friday evening traffic. “The one who sent the card. Caitlin’s dad?”

“Yeah.” The word was a long exhale. I didn’t want to talk about it. The farther away we got, the more my panic faded, and now I felt exhausted. Boneless. All I wanted was to be home in my pajamas. I should have let Caitlin go to this thing by herself after all.

Caitlin. “Wait.” I bolted upright and looked behind us at the back windshield. “I can’t just run out of there like that. I need to make sure Caitlin’s . . .”

“She’s fine.” Mitch didn’t take his eyes off the road. “I texted Emily. She’ll keep an eye on Cait, get her home.”

“Oh.” I sagged back into the seat again. “Good. That’s good.” Then understanding dawned. “Emily sent you after me, didn’t she?”

“Yep.” He tossed the word down absently as he turned in to my neighborhood. “But if I’d known what was up I would have been there sooner. You should let me know these things next time.”

“Got it.” I nodded firmly. “Next time my daughter ambushes me by inviting her long-absent father to a high school function you’ll be the first person I call.”

“Smart-ass.” He reached over, giving my hand a squeeze. “Did you meet any of the teachers before you bailed?”

“No. Oh, wait. I talked to Ms. Howe out front. The music teacher?”