Page 11 of Protected

The other day at my house, your flexing biceps and deep voice made me want to do dirty things to you. If you’re interested, let me know.

Thanks,

Dot.’

I think that would’ve saved me a lot of time and frustration.

“Oh, I don’t need help with anything. But if you want to keep me company, that would be great. How has your day been so far?”

“I have to do something. You’ve made this beautiful meal.” He pulls placemats out of the drawer in the table as though he knows where they are. “Let me set the table.”

This might forgive the boot thing. I can’t remember a time when a man offered to help with anything regarding meal prep.

We move back and forth between the dining room and the kitchen like an old married couple who have had this dance dozens of times before. I must put things in predictable locations because he seems to know where everything is. The plates, the cups, the silverware, even the paper towels.

“So, how’s your day going? You get a lot of… security-ing in?”

He laughs. “Not really. I was out at my ranch most of the morning cleaning stalls and getting things ready for a new guest house I’m building soon. The folks over at the Evergreen tree farm donated a bunch of materials so I’m excited for that.”

“You live on a ranch?”

“Oh, sorry. Yeah, I’m working on a rehab center for military folks coming back from war who need a transition to civilian life. So far, I haven’t had a place for folks to stay. This build will change that. What about you? What have you been up to?”

He’s opening a therapy center?God, why did he have to be a nice guy, too?This is going to hurt even worse when he inevitably rejects me later.

I carry the eggplant parmesan to the table and throw down a potholder before setting the dish on the table. I’m not sure why I’m nervous. I shouldn't be nervous. He’s just a guy and I’m just a girl. We’re just doing a thing. A thing where we eat. Nothing has to happen. We aren’t going to fall in love over eggplant so I should get that out of my head right now.

My heart doesn’t agree. It’s beating out of my chest. “Oh. Me? I’ve been looking for a job. I got out here and don’t get me wrong, I’m really glad to be back, but I’m worried there’s nothing for me here.”

“I got thinking, why don’t you start your own show? You could run local stories and broadcast online. You do enough of that, and people will talk. You’d have a following in no time. Who knows, the Rugged Mountain Gazette might even pick you up.”

I stare toward the giant, unsure of what to think.

Did I tell him I was a journalist?

I don’t think I did. We only talked that one time, and the topic was mostly on the cameras he was installing.

“I didn’t realize we’d talked about my job before.”

His gaze widens before he looks down at his plate and scoops up a bite. “Oh, your father might’ve told me. I don’t know… I heard it somewhere.”

Something tells me my father wouldn’t have told the security man that I was a journalist from Seattle, then again, maybe he did. I don’t know. Either way, I like his idea a lot.

“So, you really think that would work?”

He nods, taking another bite of food. “This is incredible by the way. Also,” he swallows, “I’d bet you’re really talented.”

“Well, there are a lot of talented people working at gas stations. I’m not sure talent is the only thing that matters.”

“True, but I have a good feeling about this. No one else is doing it, and I’d be willing to bet that people would love a local news broadcast. Your first story could be about the therapycenter. You could highlight the Evergreen family for all the help they’ve given me, considering it’s almost Christmas time and all. I’m sure they could use a spotlight on their farm. It could be a two-part story, keeps people involved.”

A patter of excitement rushes through me at the thought of taking charge of my own destiny. I’m not sure why I’d never thought of it before, but now that I have, I’m not sure how it could fail.

Fantasies of my own news desk rush through me. I could tell the news my way and involve locals in everything. If I could get Mrs. Robinson to talk the local gossip on my show too, it would be amazing.

“Wow! This is such a good idea. I don’t know how to thank you.” I consider asking if he’d like his payment in blowjobs, but I figure that might be inappropriate. So instead, I stand and reach my arms out for a hug.

The giant stands from the table, and I lean against his chest, dragging in the scent of pine and cedar with the backdrop of something deeper I can’t identify. He’s warm and solid, and his big arms wrap around me so tightly. I don’t want him to let go. I want him to hold me forever.

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