Page 2 of Her Older Protector

It’s my neighbor, I realize. He’s a big guy—very big, with close-cropped dark hair, burning dark eyes and thick, tattooed arms that bulge with muscle. Wiry Patrick, who always rounded his height up to six feet, doesn’t stand a chance against this brick shithouse.

“Get the fuck out of here right now,” the stranger growls at Patrick. “Or I’ll make you wish you had.”

Patrick eyes him up and down before he turns to me.

“We’ll talk about this later,” he says, and turns to leave. I turn around, too, and watch him walk down the gravel drive and to a little black car I don’t recognize, parked where it isn’t easily visible from the road.

I hear the big man edging closer to me as we watch Patrick disappear in his car, and I turn back around with an embarrassed grimace.

“I’m so sorry to have involved you in my ex-boyfriend drama,” I say. I try to make it sound casual, but even as I try to sound nonchalant, hot tears fill my eyes and spill down my cheeks. He takes a step closer and slowly, hesitantly, places a big, warm palm on my shoulder.

“I’m Jake Beaufort,” he says. He gestures toward the little house next door to mine. “I live right there. Would you like to come inside?”

I swipe at my tears, but they just keep falling. “I’m Leah. Leah Dias.” I pause and eye him carefully. “Are you sure? You don’t have to deal with this, I swear.”

He curves an arm around my shoulder, and it feels so warm and comforting that it just makes me cry harder. “I’m positive. That little fuck won’t mess with me, and I would feel better knowing that you’re safe in my house right now.”

I feel so exhausted and relieved that I just nod gratefully and lean against him, breathing in his scent. It’s warm and complex, and something about it floods my body with relief. The firm muscles beneath my cheek remind me that he’s bigger and stronger than Patrick. But my instincts tell me that he would never use that strength against me. He’s a helper, I know that much—I’ve seen him do yard work for our elderly neighbor, drop groceries by her house and climb up on her roof to make some mundane repair.

Hecaresfor people. And now he wants to care for me, and right this second, as my racing heart slows and the fight-or-flight impulse drains away, I don’t have it in me to say no and handle it all on my own again. Not tonight, anyway.

“Okay,” I say, and another sob bubbles out of me. “Yeah.”

Jake’s house is neat and comfortable inside, and he steers me to an overstuffed sofa covered with soft throw pillows. I lean back and realize that without the surge of adrenaline to keep me upright, my legs and arms feel like noodles, and I’m completely exhausted. Not just from today, either—fear has dictated my whole life for so long, and in this moment, when I feel completely safe, I realize that it’s the kind of tired that I can’t sleep off in a single night. But I’ll take what I can get at this point.

He settles down next to me and reaches out to take my hand in his. It’s an unexpectedly familiar gesture, the kind of thing I might ordinarily pull away from, but it’s been so long since someone has touched me with such kindness and consideration that I fall into it, and let myself just enjoy the gentle, unhurried stroke of his thumb across my knuckles.

“What do you need right now?” Jake asks. His voice is gentle and kind, and despite his size and the fact that I just saw him almost body-slam my ex-boyfriend, my instincts tell me that I’m safe with him. I know that he would never use his size, strength or speed against me—only to help me.

“Honestly?” I ask. I reach up and wipe away the last of my tears. “Food. Rest.”

Jake nods. “I can do that. Do you want to stay in my guest room tonight?”

I hesitate. “I don’t want to impose on you.”

He wraps my smaller hand up in both of his big paws and squeezes it gently. “It’s not an imposition. I would feel better with you here. And I think you would feel better, too.”

Those dark, warm eyes peer into me, but it’s not uncomfortable—I feel warmed from the inside out, knowing that Jake—whoever he is—is on my side. And he’s bigger and stronger than my bully.

“What do you say?” he prompts me gently.

I lean in closer and nod. “I’ll stay.”

Chapter 2

Jake

“What do you say?” I ask.

She’s not sobbing anymore, but a few tears still shine in her stormy gray eyes. I want to lean in and kiss them away, but I resist the urge and just keep my grip on her hand. I don’t think her ex will be back—not tonight, anyway—but my instincts claw at me to keep her close, just in case. At least until we can get her place secured, but I know that even that’s not a long-term solution.

One step at a time, though.

“I’ll stay,” she finally says. “For the night, anyway.”

I’m not completely sure how long Leah has been next door, but I know it can’t have been any longer than just a few weeks. When I see her outside the house, it’s never longer than a few seconds at a time, and she always looks over her shoulder as she darts between her car and the door. Like she’s watching something.

That something, it turns out, is an abusive ex who has her on the run.

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