Page 13 of Protective

“I was watching,” he brushes his hand down over his beard and bites back a grin, “overyou. Does that make it sound less creepy?”

I glance toward the ranch house a few hundred yards away. “If it gets too bad, I can go inside.”

“I had a buddy once get lost in a blizzard behind his house. He almost lost his foot due to frostbite. He was only fifty feet away from his front door. Couldn’t see a damn thing. He was goin’ in circles all night.”

“Sounds like your friend isn’t very bright,” I manage with a straight face.

Thankfully, the man takes it as the joke it’s meant to be. “That might’ve been part of it for sure.” He brushes his giant hands together and stares toward me for a long while before glancing toward his truck and back again. “Well,” he taps the top of my car, “I guess I should get this guy over to the police station. It’s not far from here. I could give you a ride too, or at least drop you off at the main ranch house.”

I stare toward the man with kind, dark eyes, knowing he has a gun tucked into the back of his jeans. I’m pretty sure my mother taught me not to take rides from strangers, especially strangers with weapons, but something about this stranger is warm, trusting, and familiar somehow. That said, Ted Bundy made people feel comfortable too, and look how that ended for at least thirty women.

“Thanks, but… I’m good. I think I’ll contact the ranch and have them send someone out to help me. It’s probably what I should’ve done to begin with.”

The man wets his lips and steps back before pulling down his hat, then lifting it again. “No problem. I, ugh, hope you have a good night.”

My heart squeezes as he turns away, and though I want to jump out and hug him tight with proper thanks, I stay planted right where I am and dial the ranch office for help.

Chapter Eight

Chevy

The snow is that heavy, wet shit that catches in your tires and makes driving absolute hell, but I make it to the police station within twenty minutes and toss the sack of shit in the back toward the officer.

There are questions and a small load of paperwork to be had, but for the most part, the asshole runs his mouth straight into a jail cell where he’ll stay until the storm clears for further questioning.

Maybe I did the wrong thing. Who knows? I wasn’t made for emotional shit. I was made for tactical military shit. I was made to problem-solve and protect, not think about how I’m affecting everyone’s feelings with the actions I’m taking. That’s the problem. It’s always going to be the problem. The second Heather meets me properly, she’s going to know that.

Snow falls heavier. Visibility is only inches, and the normally familiar landscape is a blanket of blinding white. I could go back up the mountain toward my cabin, but I doubt I’d make it. The most logical conclusion is a ride back down to the ranch, though that could be my heart convincing me of something that I don’t fully understand.

My phone rings and I’m thankful to see Ryder’s number pop on the screen. “Checkin’ in.”

“Thought you were busy getting the last of the boards cut?”

“Cut and done. Got out of there an hour ago. You close to Main Street? I made it to the bar, so I’ll be sitting at Mullet’s until the storm is over.”

I laugh because the bar is past his house by at least three miles. “Sorry, man. I’m headin’ back toward the ranch.”

“You left?” I hear the click of a beer bottle hit the bar.

“For a while.” I don’t offer details on why I left, mostly because I’m not in the mood for anyone’s advice on the topic.

“Okay,” he groans. “You guys figure that shit out?”

“No. You know I’m making you try this next, right?”

Ryder laughs. “No fuckin’ way. I’m not that guy.”

“What kind of guy is that?”

“Lonely. I’m fine on my own.”

“Are you fine on your own, or are you obsessed with someone you can’t have?” I pull out onto the road, thankful for the winter tires, but when the back-end slides, I’m disappointed in myself for not putting the chains on.

He gives me a short, firm laugh that’s more sarcastic than anything. “Umm… get fucked.”

I laugh. “Is it not true?”

“I was drunk. That’s all that was. Sasha is my son’s ex. She’s off limits. It’s a known fact.”

---