Page 2 of Protecting What's Mine

“Well you said you’d been stuck in your car for hours. Thought you must be hungry. Sorry it’s nothing flash.” Mental note - get better bar snacks in case you need to impress beautiful women.

A pretty flush colors her cheeks. “That’s very kind. Thank you.” There’s a slight tremble in her voice as she takes the most pathetic dinner in history from me. “I’ve got cash in my purse-”

“Don’t. This one’s on the house. Consider it a welcome gesture, and an apology for being a grumpy ass before.”

Alex's eyes widen before bursting into laughter. The change in her is magical - her face brightens, her shoulders drop and her posture relaxes. But her laugh. Her laugh isn’t dainty or ladylike - it is a full-throated, husky bark that reverberates around the room.

I want to make her laugh like that for the rest of our lives.

Alex

Ican’t stop laughing.

I don’t know why. There’s no joke, no pun, nothing of any amusement said. But there is something in the shift of his face, the slight smile on his lips that breaks the tension I’ve been harboring and lifts my mood for the first time in days. Weeks, even.

Of course this would happen in front of the sexiest man I’ve ever seen in real life. Even through my tears of laughter my attention is drawn to his muscular torso that I glimpse underneath his faded burgundy t-shirt, the steely gray eyes that just minutes ago were clouded and stoic but were now alight with amusement, the sunkissed chestnut hair that flops down into his face and makes him constantly run his fingers through it to push it back. And dear lord, those arms. His biceps could crack a watermelon. Or at least throw me over his shoulder before carrying me to his bed. I wonder what they would feel like…

Stop it. A man is the reason you’re out here, in the middle of nowhere Georgia, taking a job in a tiny school with no resources and weak wifi. Career suicide, my last principal had called it.

I call it survival.

Trying to pull myself together, I wipe away my tears and look back at the Adonis in front of me. “I didn’t know such a big noise could come out of such a small person,” he says with a smirk.

My face heats. “People have mocked me for it my whole life, but I can’t help it. My mum says I sound like an opera singer, but my brother used to tell me it’s more like a cartoon villain. They’re always the best characters so there’s worse comparisons to be had I suppose.” I’m rambling. Why am I rambling? Shut up, Alex.

He chuckles, but for the first time in years it feels like I’m the jester and not the joke. Before my mind starts to overanalyze that realization, our eyes catch and there’s a moment - his dilated pupils seem to mirror my own growing desire, and flash with longing before flicking to my lips ever so briefly. Suddenly the room feels too warm, and my skin prickles with a need to be touched. This man is making me feel more than I have allowed myself to in a long time, and it feels both out of control and incredibly right at the same time.

Jacob looks away and the spell is broken. “Shit, I forgot to leave you fresh towels. Let me grab them real quick.” With that he turns to walk through a small doorway to what I assume is a storage cupboard, which gives me an excellent view from behind. I should have known that arms that look like they could fight a bear would have an ass to match.

I pace around the bar, acutely aware of being alone in a strange place. Billy B’s is cozy enough - booths with red leather seats line one wall, with wooden tables and chairs covering most of the floor. In one corner there’s a makeshift stage with a mic stand and drum kit, plus a small space in front for what would pass as a dance floor. On the exposed brick walls is an eclectic mix of frames, sports memorabilia and Polaroids that vary from fresh and crisp to yellowing and faded. Faces beam out from these photos, and I can’t help but smile. They seem happy.

I was happy like that once. But then Marco happened.

The familiar creep settles over me - like someone is watching me, peering in from the darkness outside and through the windows. My eyes dart around but nothing has changed, yet the creep won’t leave me. My palms become sweaty and my heart picks up pace. Everything in me demands that I hide, take cover, wait for the threat to pass.

I startle as the storage room door closes, which causes Jacob to stop in alarm. “Are you ok?

Consciously I slow my breathing and force a smile. “Yeah, of course. Just feels weird being in a strange place on my own. I’m fine, I swear.”

He pauses a moment before nodding. Trying my best to appear relaxed, I smile my thanks and take the two crisp white towels from his hands. Jacob watches me closely, like he is decoding every movement.

I attempt to shift the energy back to a lighter mood. “So, do I get to see the room before midnight?”

He smirks, and I realize that I like making him smile. “Right this way.” Before I could even move towards my bag it’s back over his shoulder. There’s nothing to do but follow with the towels and the impromptu dinner as we push through the swinging doors and ascend the small staircase at the back of the bar to the second floor.

At the top he takes a left and we walk down a short hall, stopping outside the open door of the second room. It’s simple but cozy, opening with a plush sofa seat and table tucked away in the corner. A double bed is underneath a large window overlooking the nearby park and main street of town. A small door beside the bedhead leads to the ensuite bathroom. Give me a stack of books and a pile of snacks and I wouldn’t leave this room for a week. Except perhaps to steal a glimpse of its proprietor.

Jacob walks over to the bed and sets my bag down on the quilt. Brushing his face with his hands, he seems jittery or - dare I assume - nervous? “The bathroom is right through there, and there’s more blankets under the bed if you get cold.”

“Sure, thanks.”

Jacob takes a slow step towards me, and I think my heart stops. He pauses and opens his mouth but quickly shuts it again, like he wants to say something but thinks better of it. I’d give my pinky finger to know what it is.

“If you need anything during the night, just head back to the stairs and knock on the door opposite. I’m a light sleeper so I’ll be awake pretty quickly.”

“Oh - you live here too?"

His brows knit together. “Yeah. I hope that’s ok. I mean, I hope it doesn’t make you uncomfortable. I’ll keep to my room or the bar downstairs so you’ll have your privacy.”

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