“Thanks,” he said, taking a deliberate step away from the ogling female fan. He reached out and squeezed Madison’s hand.
She blinked in surprise. This behavior was new. After she and Alex had broken up, Madison had realized she’d been making excuses for him. He’d chosen to let her be pushed aside. He could have handled meetings with female fans differently.
And this time he had. Unsure what to make of things, she cleared her throat, intending to move forward with her own agenda.
“Excuse me. I’m meeting someone. Eric Grayson?”
“Haven’t seen him,” the woman said without pulling her attention from Alex. Clearly she didn’t take his distance seriously.
Madison frowned and glanced at her watch.
Alex turned to her. “He’s late.”
“Five minutes. Not bad by Eric’s standards.” She’d give him more time. “Are you sure you don’t want to see if she wants an autograph? Her chest is nearly exposed and waiting.” Madison winced at how catty she sounded, but the words were out, as was the hurt from the times he’d ignored her in the past.
She didn’t understand his lack of eagerness over the attention now and couldn’t allow herself to put any stock in its meaning.
Alex narrowed his gaze, concern in his eyes. “Madison—”
Before he could speak, a young guy wearing dark jeans and an old tee shirt, both arms covered in full sleeves of tattoos, strode over.
“I overheard you saying you’re looking for Eric Grayson?” the guy asked.
“Who are you?” Alex asked, pulling her against him protectively.
“Are you Madison Evans?” the man asked again.
She nodded. “I am.”
Beside her, Alex stiffened, and his fingers bit into her waist.
“Who are you and what do you want?” Alex towered over the other guy, his mere presence an implied threat.
The man pulled folded papers out of his pocket, handing them to Madison. “You’ve been served,” he said, then turned and walked out of the bar.
She stared at the blue legal documents in stunned silence, immediately guessing what they were. “I can’t believe him,” she said, gripping the papers tighter in her hand.
“Do you want to look at them here or in the car?” Alex asked her in a gentle voice.
She didn’t want gentle. She wanted to scream. “I don’t have to look. I know what he’s up to, that son of a bitch.” She slapped the papers against Alex’s chest, letting him grab them before she pivoted and left the rundown bar where her foster brother had set her up.
The rat bastard. It wasn’t enough his mother was one step from inpatient care, he wanted to take away what she held dear. Well, Madison would be damned if she’d let him get away with it.
Shaking, she headed for the car, ever aware of Alex by her side.
* * *
Alex wanted to throttle Madison’s foster brother for setting her up and catching her off guard. Since she was angry and trembling, Alex was glad he’d nabbed the keys before the disaster in the bar. Madison was too shaken to focus on the road.
He drove them to his favorite Italian restaurant, a small place near his new apartment and owned by a husband and wife, who Alex had come to know well. Considering he picked up dinner or ate there at least three or four nights a week, they’d sort of adopted him since their son lived across the country.
Madison stewed in the passenger seat beside him, silent and seething the entire trip. He was aware when she opened the documents and scanned them briefly only to roll them up once more in anger. He gave her the space she seemed to need, hoping she’d confide in him while they ate.
He didn’t know much about her family or background except that she’d been in and out of foster homes growing up, and though she had a close relationship with her last set of foster parents, she disliked their son, the foster brother she’d been supposed to meet tonight. Alex had no more details beyond the bare basics because that was the way he used to like his affairs. As impersonal as he could get away with.
He glanced over. She was still lost in thought. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, giving him a good look at her tightly set jaw. She bit into her plump lower lip, and though she was upset and frustrated, the small act only served to ignite the desire never far from the surface when she was around. She’d always affected him on a sensual level, everything she did making him need her immediately. Except at this moment, he wanted to help her through whatever was going on in her life more than he wanted to seduce her. And that was a first for him.
Her silence continued in the restaurant. They ordered, and she returned to fuming quietly. Their meals were served, and she picked at her dish.
“Want to talk about it?” he finally asked.
“No.” She twirled her pasta with her fork, playing with her food more than eating it.
“You should. It’s the only way you’re going to calm down enough to eat.”
She narrowed her gaze. “Since when do we do serious talk?”
“Since we’re starting over.” He was prepared for her digs, and though he deserved it, the reminders of what an ass he’d been hurt.
“Right. We’re co-workers now.”
He set his jaw. Not just co-workers, not if he had his way. “Come on. Talk.” He coaxed her to get rid of the anger inside her.
“Fine. You know I was close to my last foster parents, right?”
He nodded. He recalled her once mentioning that the man treated her better than her real father ever had. He also remembered asking why she was spending Thanksgiving with Riley and Ian instead of the Graysons. She’d said something about not getting along with her foster brother and not wanting their animosity to intrude on the older couple’s holiday. He wondered now, as he hadn’t then, what she’d done for holidays before her friendship with Riley.
“Daniel, my foster father, he passed away three months ago.” Her voice caught as she spoke.
“I didn’t know.”
She pinned him with a glare but spared him a verbal slap about how he would have been aware had he not pulled away.
Who’d gone with her to the funeral? he wondered. Who’d been there when she’d grieved? And why was he just thinking of these things now? Why had he been so self-absorbed before?
“The problem is that Franny hadn’t been feeling well long before Daniel died,” she said, interrupting his thoughts.
“What’s wrong?”
“She was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s.” Madison let go of the fork, leaving it to clatter against the plate. “She’s going to need to go into a nursing home soon, and in case she isn’t capable of making that decision when the time comes, she made me her health care proxy and gave me her power of attorney. Not Eric.”