Page 2 of Guarding Her Heart
She looks up at me, surprised, her eyes a bright, captivating green. For a moment, I think she’s going to tell me to fuck off, but then she smiles, a small, playful curve of her lips.
“Not at the moment,” she says, gesturing to the chair across from her. “But I’m not sure if you’re up to the task of keeping me company.”
I grin, sliding into the seat with an easy confidence I haven’t felt in quite a while. “I’ve been told I’m pretty good at making conversation. What about you? Are you up for a challenge?”
She laughs, a soft, musical sound that makes me want to hear it again and again. “Depends on what kind of challenge you have in mind.”
“Well, for starters,” I say, leaning forward a bit, “how about we see who can make the other laugh first?”
“Oh, you’re on,” she says, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “But I should warn you, Iamundefeated.”
“Is that so?” I raise an eyebrow, feigning surprise. “Well, I guess I’ll have to bring my A-game then. I’m Ethan West, by the way.”
“Jenny Dalton,” she replies, shaking my hand with a firm grip. “And just so you know, Ethan, I don’t go easy on anyone, not even big, strong men like you.”
“Good,” I say, matching her smile. “I wouldn’t want it any other way.”
We trade a few more playful jabs, the conversation flowing effortlessly. There’s a lightness between us that I haven’t felt in a long time, and I can’t help but be drawn to her easy confidence.
“So, Jenny, what brings you to this fine establishment tonight?” I ask, taking a sip of my drink.
She shrugs, but there’s a hint of something deeper in her eyes. “I was supposed to meet someone, but it looks like they had other plans.”
“Someone who doesn’t realize what they’re missing out on, clearly,” I say, shaking my head in disapproval. “Their loss is my gain.”
Jenny laughs again, and it’s the kind of laugh that makes you feel like you’ve known someone for years. “Smooth talker, aren’t you?”
“I try,” I admit with a grin. “But seriously, if you’re being stood up, I’d say you deserve better company.”
“And you think you’re the better company?” she teases, leaning back in her chair resting her arms on her lap.
“I know I am,” I reply, my tone light but sincere. “I might not know what brought you here tonight, but I do know you deserve someone who shows up when they say they will.”
Her playful demeanor falters for a moment, and she looks down at the table, her fingers now tracing the rim of her glass. “Yeah, well, sometimes people let you down. You just have to roll with it.”
There’s a hint of sadness in her voice, and I find myself wanting to know more, to understand what she’s been through. But I also don’t want to push too hard. Instead, I lean forward, catching her eye again.
“How about we make a deal?” I suggest. “You forget about whoever didn’t show up, and we focus on having a good time. No strings attached, no pressure. Just two people enjoying the night.”
She considers it for a moment, then smiles, the spark returning to her eyes. “I think I can handle that.”
“Great,” I say, lifting my bottle in a toast. “To new friends and unexpected conversations.”
“To new friends,” she agrees, clinking her glass against mine.
We spend the next hour talking and laughing, sharing stories about our lives, our family, and everything in between. Jenny is easy to talk to, her wit is sharp and her laughter is infectious. The more we talk, the more I find myself drawn to her, not just because of her beauty, but because of the way she makes me feel—like maybe there’s still something good to look forward to, even after everything that’s happened to me in the last year.
“So, tell me,” Jenny says, her tone turning teasing again, “how does a Navy SEAL end up back in his hometown, chatting up strangers in a bar?”
I chuckle, leaning back in my chair. “How do you know I’m a SEAL?”
She points to my tattoo on my right shoulder that’s peeking out from under my muscle shirt. “No one gets a SEAL tattoo without actually being a SEAL.”
I nod. She’s perceptive. “Well, it’s a long story. But the short version is, I’ve just been medically discharged. I came back home to figure out what’s next.”
“And have you figured it out?” she asks, her gaze curious but gentle.
“Not yet,” I admit, shrugging. “But I’m working on it. My friends and I have always had this dream of opening a bar here in town, so we’re finally putting that plan into action.”
