Page 36 of Her Redeemed Protector

Dad breathes out, respect all over his face. “You became a man on that ranch, huh?” He nods at Hux.

“Pretty much.” The corners of his mouth turn up wryly.

“A ranch always has her way,” my dad muses. “Just like how it groomed our Savannah into a better rancher than I am. You know, she was born?—”

“Dad, please! Too much information,” I protest.

“No, no, I want to know,” Hux smirks eagerly.

“She was born under the Montana sky, quite literally. In the path between our house and the stables.”

I cover my face, embarrassed, and I hear Hux chuckle.

Dad continues. “Her ma used to say it was the breeze that filled her lungs that day.”

“That’s quite a story,” Hux complements.

I tilt my head, glancing at him, absorbing the amusement radiating out of his smile.

Dad then asks Hux, “Cometti. That’s Italian, isn’t it?”

My father’s right in pointing that out. While Hux may be relatively fair for an Italian, his thick dark mane, generously tidy facial hair, and captivating brown eyes are undeniable evidence of his heritage.

He nods. “My great-grandfather made his way to Chicago first. Then, my grandfather moved west, ended up in Montana, and got a job at a ranch. Took over when the old owner hung up his hat. These days, my younger brother’s at the helm. I taught him everything before I left.”

“And where might this slice of heaven be?” I ask, unable to mask my eagerness.

“Seeley Lake. We call it Starfire.”

In my mind, I see the night skies of Montana, filled with countless stars, and I can almost feel the fiery sunrises kissing my face as each day begins. In that fleeting moment, Idaydream about riding across lush fields, either on Misty’s back or perched on his sturdy shoulders.

“Starfire, huh?” my dad says, as if imagining with me.

Huxley chuckles, his eyes lighting up. “I know. It doesn’t sound very ranchy. My grandfather struggled to come up with a name that tied in with our family. The name Cometti originated from a region called Como.”

“Oh, Lake Como, right?” my dad jumps in.

“Exactly! The word means deep.”

Deep.Huxley isn’t just a name. There’s a depth to him, something in his very DNA that pulls me in, an ancestral force that could make me surrender in the blink of an eye.

“But for my grandfather, trying to find a name that meant ‘deep’ was a dead end,” Hux continues. “Since a lot of his friends called him Comet, just like my pals do, he thought Starfire sounded like a comet.”

“It’s fitting,” my father nods in support.

“I’d love to see it,” I say too quickly, and my father’s expression tightens just slightly. Maybe it’s the suddenness of my request, or perhaps it’s the echo of a life he’s left behind.

“Of course,” Huxley says warmly. “I’ll show you around someday. Mom and my brother would welcome you.”

I’m swept away by visions of crisp, clean air, the scent of hay and earth, and the constant pattern of dawn and dusk that holds the promise of simple, unspoiled beauty.

The moment breaks when Hux’s phone buzzes. He rises, and as he does, a certain hesitation creeps into his movements. “I’ve got to go.” The words seem to carry a weight he didn’t intend.

I fight the impulse to question the call, perhaps to stay with us, with me, just a while longer. Instead, I muster a smile that doesn’t quite reach my eyes.

“Of course. Don’t let us keep you,” I reply. Yet, beneath thatfaçade, my heart is staging a silent rebellion, wishing he’d defy time and reason and stay.

His steps pull with them the warmth he’d brought into the room, leaving a cool absence. Our conversation replays in my mind as if it’ll help me keep his words close. It’s strange how quickly one can miss a presence, how swiftly a person can become a part of your world.

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