Page 16 of Protected By the Single Dad Sheriff

I shake my head, a lump forming in my throat. "I'm drowning most days. The girls deserve better than a dad who'salways distracted, always rushing, always forgetting something important."

"They adore you," she counters, and there's such conviction in her voice that I almost believe her. "That's obvious to anyone who spends five minutes with them. The way they look at you—like you're their whole world."

"They're mine," I say simply, emotion making my voice crack. "But I worry it's not enough. That I'm not enough."

"I think that worry is probably the hallmark of good parenting," Isabella observes softly. "The bad ones never question themselves."

I've never thought of it that way. "Maybe. Still feels like I'm failing more often than not."

"Join the club," she says with a rueful smile. "I've spent my entire adult life feeling like I'm failing. At being the daughter my parents wanted, at becoming the wife Sebastian deserved, at figuring out who I actually am beneath all the expectations."

"And who is that person?" I ask, wanting desperately to understand her. "The real Isabella Rosewood?"

She considers this, tucking a strand of auburn hair behind her ear.

"I'm not entirely sure yet. But I know she loves art—creating it, studying it, being surrounded by it. She prefers quiet evenings with a book to elaborate charity galas. She wants a family someday, but one built on genuine connection, not social advantage." She pauses, her voice softening. "And apparently, she has the capacity to run away from her own wedding, so there's that."

I can't help but smile, "Sounds like someone worth getting to know. But, hey, it's late," I say, standing abruptly. "You must be exhausted."

Isabella nods, rising as well. "It's been... quite a day."

"I'll show you upstairs," I offer, "You'll need clean sheets."

"Please, don't go to that trouble. I can manage."

"It's no trouble," I insist.

"Thank you. But, look... Can we stay here a little longer?" She asks me, rubbing her rosy cheek.

Chapter 6 - Isabella

"Thank you. But, look... Can we stay here a little longer?" I ask, rubbing my cheek a bit too much.

The thought of being alone in his bedroom feels suddenly overwhelming, though not for the reasons it should be.

Jake settles back onto the couch, a questioning look in his brown eyes. "Of course. Is everything okay?"

No, nothing is okay. I'm sitting in a stranger's living room, having run away from my own wedding mere hours ago, and all I can think about is how his lips and mouth might taste. It's inappropriate and ridiculous and completely unlike me.

And yet, I can't stop noticing things about him. The breadth of his shoulders beneath his worn t-shirt. The strong line of his jaw, slightly shadowed with stubble. The gentle way his hands move when he talks about his daughters. The deep timbre of his voice that seems to resonate somewhere behind my ribcage.

He's nothing like Sebastian or any of the polished, ambitious men my parents approved of. Jake Reynolds is solid, rooted to this place and these people he protects. There's an authenticity to him that makes every man I've ever known seem like pale imitations of the real thing.

"I was just wondering..." I begin, then hesitate. Is this too personal? Too forward? But the events of today have stripped away my usual caution. "Have you dated at all? Since your wife passed?"

The question clearly surprises him. He leans back slightly, running a hand through his hair.

"Sorry," I say quickly. "That's none of my business."

"No, it's okay." He sighs, eyes fixed on the wall behind me. "The answer is yes, but not much. A few coffee dates set up by well-meaning friends. Dinner once with a kindergarten teacher from the next county over." He shrugs. "Nothing that went anywhere."

"No chemistry?" I ask, leaning forward slightly.

"Something like that." His gaze drops to his hands. "Or maybe I didn't give them a fair chance. It's hard to explain, but dating as a widower with kids... it's complicated. There's guilt involved."

"Guilt?"

"Like I'm betraying Claire somehow. Which is irrational. She'd be the first one to tell me to move on, to find happiness again. But still." He shakes his head. "And then there's the girls. They're just starting to adjust, to feel stable again. What if I bring someone into their lives and it doesn't work out? That's another loss for them to process."

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