Page 14 of Protected By the Single Dad Sheriff

"Hope so," she murmurs, then drifts off, her small face peaceful in sleep.

Emma is more pragmatic. "If you stay, I can show you how to throw a proper fastball."

"I'd like that," I tell her, meaning it.

Jake kisses each girl goodnight, and I follow him out of the room, emotion thick in my throat at witnessing such tender fatherhood.

Downstairs, in the sudden quiet of the living room, an awkwardness falls between us. The structured activities of dinner and bedtime are behind us, and now we're just two adults, essentially strangers, left alone.

"Thank you," I say, breaking the silence. "For dinner, for everything. I should probably figure out where I'm going to stay tonight."

Jake runs a hand through his hair, a gesture I'm beginning to recognize as a sign of his discomfort. "About that. I called the motel in Millfield. They're booked too—some regional softball tournament this weekend."

My heart sinks. "Oh. Is there somewhere else nearby?"

He hesitates. "Next town with vacancies is about two hours away."

"I see." I gnaw at my lower lip, considering my options. Which are, frankly, limited.

"You can stay here," he says abruptly. "You’ll sleep in my bedroom. I’ll sleep on the couch. It's comfortable enough. Just for tonight, until we can figure something out tomorrow."

The offer is generous, possibly inappropriate given his position, definitely more than I deserve. "I couldn't impose like that."

"It's not an imposition. It's practical." His tone is matter-of-fact. "It's late, you're exhausted, and I'm not going to send you off to wander in the dark."

"Are you sure?" I ask, searching his face. "It's not exactly proper, having a strange woman sleep in your bed."

A ghost of a smile touches his lips. "Isabella, you ran away from your own wedding today and ended up in my town. I think we're well past 'proper' at this point."

He has a point. And the thought of staying here, in this house that already feels safer than anywhere I've been in years, is undeniably appealing.

"Okay," I agree finally. "Just for tonight. And I'll take the first bus out tomorrow."

He nods, looking relieved and something else I can't quite identify. "I'll get some blankets."

As he disappears down the hall, I sink onto the couch, the full weight of the day finally crashing over me. I ran away from my wedding. I abandoned my fiancé at the altar. I fled Boston without a plan or proper luggage. I'm now preparing to sleep in a small-town sheriff's bed while his daughters dream down the hall.

It's insane. Completely outside the structured life I've always led.

And yet, sitting here in the warm glow of a lamp in Jake Reynolds' living room, I feel more myself than I have in years.

Chapter 5 - Jake

I grab extra blankets from the hall closet, my hands moving on autopilot while my mind races. What the hell am I doing? I've invited a complete stranger—a runaway bride, no less—to spend the night in my bed. In my house. With my daughters sleeping just down the hall.

It's completely unprofessional. If any of my deputies pulled something like this, I'd have them on desk duty for a month with a lecture about boundaries and protocol.

But Isabella isn't just any stranger. There's something about her that bypassed all my usual defenses… The ones I've spent four years constructing.

Maybe it's the lost look in her eyes that mirrors what I see in my own reflection some mornings. Or maybe it's the way she immediately connected with my girls, reading to them with such natural warmth that for a moment our broken little family felt whole again.

I grab a spare toothbrush from the bathroom cabinet, one of those extras from the dentist that I keep for the girls, and add it to the small pile of necessities: towel, washcloth, t-shirt that might work as a nightgown.

When I return to the living room, Isabella is sitting exactly where I left her, looking small and vulnerable on my oversized couch. Her makeup has long since worn off, and without the armor of her wedding dress or even the casual clothes she bought at Libby's, she seems younger somehow. More real.

"Here," I say, setting the pile beside her. "It's not exactly the honeymoon suite, but it should get you through the night."

She looks up with those clear green eyes, and something in my chest tightens. "I'm the one who should be apologizing for putting you out of your bed."

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