Page 11 of Snowed in with the Bodyguard

He arches a brow but doesn’t reply, already busying himself with the small propane stove he’s set up. His movements are sure and practiced as if he’s done this a hundred times. The faint hissof the stove lighting up fills the cabin, a small reminder of the world outside these walls where danger still lurks.

While the soup heats, Jack opens another cabinet and grabs two energy bars, handing one to me without a word.

I unwrap it, my fingers trembling slightly as I hold the bar. Sweetness coats my tongue as I chew. It’s not exactly a holiday feast, but it’s sustenance, and right now, that’s enough. Jack tears into his bar with less ceremony, eating quickly as though it’s another task to check off his mental list.

The cabin is quiet except for the occasional pop of the propane stove and the sound of us chewing. Despite the silence, there’s a strange comfort in this moment. For a few minutes, it feels like the world outside doesn’t exist, like it’s just the two of us in this small, safe bubble.

When the soup is ready, Jack pours it into two mismatched mugs. He hands one to me, his fingers brushing mine briefly, sending a spark of warmth through me that has nothing to do with the heat of the mug.

“Careful,” he murmurs, his voice softer now. “It’s hot.”

I take a cautious sip, the salty warmth of the soup spreading through me, chasing away the chill that had settled deep in my bones. Jack watches me for a moment before sitting across from me, cradling his mug between his hands.

“You’ve done this before, haven’t you?” I ask quietly.

He doesn’t answer right away, his gaze fixed on the steaming mug in his hands. When he finally looks up, a flicker of something unspoken crosses his face. He takes a slow sip of hissoup before answering, his voice calm but distant. “Yeah. I’ve done this before.”

I wait, the silence between us heavy with unasked questions. He doesn’t seem inclined to elaborate, but I can’t help myself. “I mean… this cabin, the planning, the way you know what to do. It’s as if you’ve been through something like this a hundred times.”

He leans back in his chair, his expression unreadable, though his eyes seem darker now. “Not exactly like this,” he says, his tone measured. “But close enough.”

I tilt my head, curiosity outweighing caution. “What did you do before my father hired you?”

Jack’s lips twitch, but it’s not a smile. It’s more like he’s considering whether to answer. Finally, he exhales, his shoulders relaxing just slightly. “I was a SEAL,” he says, the words heavy, as if they carry a weight he rarely shares.

I blink, surprised. I guessed he had some kind of military background from the way he moves, the sharpness in his gaze, and the quiet confidence surrounding him like a second skin. But hearing him confirm it sends a ripple of awe and unease through me. “A Navy SEAL?”

“Yeah.” He nods, swirling the soup in his mug absentmindedly. “Did that for a while. Learned how to survive in tough situations, how to keep people alive when everything’s falling apart.”

I lean forward, resting my elbows on the table, unable to hide my fascination. “Why did you leave?”

His jaw tightens, and I worry I’ve pushed too far. But then he shrugs, his gaze dropping to the mug in his hands. “Got tired ofthe grind. Of the things you have to do and the things you have to see. There’s only so much of that a person can take before it starts to wear on you.”

I don’t miss the shadow that flickers across his face, the way his eyes darken as if he’s seeing something I can’t. Something he doesn’t want to share. “And then you started working for men like my father?” I ask carefully.

Jack’s mouth quirks into a humorless smirk. “Your father offered me a job when I needed one. It’s not exactly the life I planned, but it pays the bills.”

I study him, trying to reconcile the man sitting across from me with the image of a soldier, a protector who once fought for something greater than himself. “It’s more than that, though, isn’t it?” I say softly. “You protect people.”

He meets my eyes then, his expression unreadable. “Sometimes,” he says simply. “But don’t romanticize it, Holly. The world I work in isn’t about saving people. It’s about survival.”

“Survival,” I echo, the word tasting bitter on my tongue. “That’s all this is to you? Just survival?”

He sets his mug down, leaning forward until his gaze locks with mine. “When it comes to keeping you alive? Yeah, that’s all it is. Survival. Because if I don’t do my job, if I slip up even once, those men out there won’t hesitate. They’ll find you, and they’ll use you to hurt your father in the worst ways possible. I’m not going to let that happen.”

The intensity in his voice sends a shiver through me, but it’s not fear. It’s something else entirely—something raw and unyieldingthat settles deep in my chest. I swallow hard, nodding slowly. “Thank you, Jack. For everything.”

He leans back again, his expression softening just slightly. “Don’t thank me yet. We’ve still got a long way to go.”

I sit back, taking another sip of soup, my mind spinning with everything he’s told me. Jack isn’t just a bodyguard. He’s a man shaped by a lifetime of battles, a man who knows what it takes to protect and survive.

I want to ask more—about the cabin, about him, about the life he’s lived that led him here—but the look in his eyes stops me. Instead, I focus on the soup, the warmth of the cabin, and the man sitting across from me—the man who’s already risked so much to keep me safe.

Jack finishes his soup and moves back to the window, making his checks. I’m pulled to him, moving up behind him without even thinking. My fingers graze his back, relishing the firm muscles beneath my hand. His whole body is a coil, ready to spring. And for the first time, I understand that those muscles aren’t simply for show—they’re the armor of a man who’s probably fought a hundred battles I’ll never know about. Jack might be a killer, the kind of man people whisper about, but tonight, he’s my protector. My bodyguard. And no matter how dangerous he might be, he’s my only source of safety.

“Is anybody out there?” I whisper.

He inclines his head slightly in my direction, his jaw tightening as he keeps his gaze fixed on the window. “No,” he replies in that low, gravelly voice. “I think we lost them…for now. But don’t get too comfortable, and don’t do anything that might give away where we are.”

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