Page 38 of Mountain Protector

“Is this okay?” I whisper.

Her cheeks go pink as she nods. “Yes.” A beat later, she adds with a little smile, “I think it’s perfect.”

Well.

Okay, then.

Maybe Alec’s not such an asshole, after all.

CHAPTER 9

LARK

What kind of surprise could Knox be bringing?

He left right after breakfast this morning with an enigmatic smile and instructions to be ready for a surprise sometime around noon.

“Do I need to do anything?” I asked.

“Nope.” He just hugged me—gone are the days of keeping our distance—and added, “Just relax. It’ll be nice. I promise.”

I wasn’t worried. How could I be? There isn’t a single thing Knox has done that hasn’t been nice.

Actually, nice is a tremendous understatement. Since the break-in ten days ago, Knox has been incredible.

He’s stayed over every night, watching movies and bringing games that are guaranteed to make me laugh, even when the stress of the still-unidentified gunman gets to me.

When I wake him up with yet another nightmare, even when he has to get up at the literal crack of dawnto be ready for work the next morning, he never complains. He just hugs me and rubs my back until I feel calm enough to try to fall asleep again.

He keeps me entertained throughout the day, texting funny stories about his clients—like Mrs. Adamson, the well-meaning but slightly nosy widow who asked him about installing one-way windows so she could spy on the neighbors without them realizing.

I didn’t want to tell her no, he texted.But I’m not crazy about encouraging her to spy on her neighbors, either. So I told her it wouldn’t be good for resale value and she changed her mind. But now she’s talking about building a deck on the roof. For her telescope, she says. I doubt she wants to look at the stars.

Honestly, Mrs. Adamson sounds like a hoot. Although it’s probably easier for me to say since I’m not her neighbor.

But Knox is always coming up with ways to make me smile. Buying me little presents that he always brushes off as nothing, saying things like,Oh, these books? I just happened to be walking past Books n’ Bliss and I remembered you saying this was your favorite author. Plus, they were having a sale. So it just made sense to buy them.

While I’d tell any of my investment clients that’s a terrible way to handle money, I wouldn’t dream of saying it to Knox. Especially when he looked so sweet and earnest as he gave them to me, all neatly packaged in a fancy gift bag I just know he paid extra for at the store.

Just like I couldn’t say no when he showed up a few days ago with a desk and office chair to set up in the guest bedroom. I’d just started working remotely again,and was using the dining room table as my workspace. But Knox insisted I should have a dedicated office instead.

“You’re working for hours, Lark,” he explained. “The dining room chairs aren’t that comfortable. And you have to pick up everything when you want to eat. This way you have a dedicated space. And”—he eyeballed the dining chair in question with a narrowed glare—“the chair I brought over has lumbar support. These don’t.”

I never imagined as a teenager I’d feel like swooning when a man talks about lumbar support, but here I am. My stomach all fluttery because a man brings me an office chair.

Well. If Everett, the annoying account manager who seems to think dating me will get him a promotion—spoiler, it won’t—gave it to me, I don’t think I’d feel quite the same. But Knox? He could talk about lumbar support all day and I’d be okay with it.

But after everything he’s already done, what else could Knox possibly have in mind for a surprise?

As it’s done at least twenty times since eleven, my gaze slides to my phone, searching for a text from Knox. Even though he said around noon, and it’s still fifteen minutes short of that, I can’t keep myself from checking again.

It’s not so much that I’m excited about the surprise—okay, I am—but it’s more the anticipation of spending the day together.

He asked me about it on the way home from Enzo’s last night, as we walked back along the snowy trail, still stuffed full of turkey and at least a dozen side dishes and a whole buffet of desserts. “I’m giving the crew thewhole holiday weekend off,” Knox explained. “So I have three days free. And I was wondering if you’d like to spend them with me.”

Did I? Absolutely.

Because I realized something somewhere between sitting on Knox’s lap watching football and watching him cut all my turkey for me because he didn’t want me straining my arm—which I could have handled, but wouldn’t have dreamed of telling him no.

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