Page 71 of Protected By the Grumpy Single Dad
I pull back just enough to see her face. “Jasmine,” I whispered, my voice rough. “You’re sure?”
Her forehead presses to mine. “I’ve never been surer of anything.”
My hand finds hers, threading our fingers together, the IV tugging awkwardly but I don’t care. “Then we’re in this—for real. No turning back.”
The world outside that hospital room would keep spinning—laws to enforce, cases to prosecute, enemies waiting in the shadows. But none of it mattered in that moment.
Because I have the girl. And it isn’t just a victory.
It’s the beginning of us.
Chapter twenty-two
Jasmine
Four Months Later
I jolt awake, the squeal of a microphone ripping me back to the present. The world snaps into place: rows of people, the hum of conversation, the heavy air of ceremony. My cheeks flame as I realize where I am.
I lean toward Brick, who’s perfectly at ease beside me. “How long was I out?”
“Thirty minutes,” he replies, deadpan, eyes still on the stage.
“Oh, no.” Guilt burns hot across my skin. “Did I miss it?”
Brick finally looks at me, lips twitching into a sly smile. “No.”
Relief loosens my shoulders. “He’d bite my head off if I fall asleep during his big moment.”
Brick shrugs, feigning nonchalance. “Or maybe he just won’t show you his surprise.”
My head snaps toward him. “What surprise?”
Brick’s face drains. He looks like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “I—I didn’t mean surprise. It’s nothing.”
I narrow my eyes, using my best Riley-inspired “mom” glare. “Say what, Brick?”
His mouth opens, but before he can answer, a sharp shush cuts through the row. The woman in front of us glares like she’s auditioning for Wicked Witch. Brick and I exchange a wide-eyed look before collapsing into silent laughter.
Onstage, the ceremony continues. Officers stand in crisp lines, caps tucked under their arms, faces solemn as medals are pinned and commendations read aloud. And then my gaze finds him.
Asher.
Tall, steady, eyes fixed straight ahead. My chest swells, pride and affection rushing together until it’s almost too much to hold. Four months ago, he was flat on a hospital bed, bruised but unbroken. Tonight, he’s being honored for bringing Harold Swanson down. Late, maybe, but well deserved.
And me? I never thought I’d care about a ceremony like this. Never thought I’d admire the badge. But watching Asher, I realize my cynicism has softened. There are bad cops, yes. But there are also lots more men and women like him—fighting to make something better, even if it feels impossible.
The applause rises again, and soon the ceremony winds down. One by one, people filter out until the hall begins to empty. My pulse quickens as Asher steps off the stage and makes his way toward us, cap still under his arm. With one arm around Brick, he smiles “that” smile that makes my knees weak.
“I bet you felt invincible up there,” I tease.
“You bet I did.”
“And I suppose you’d like me to respect you now, Sheriff Vaughn? Or is there a more radiant title I need to be using?”
He grins, slips his arm around my waist, and draws me close enough for his cologne to warm my senses. “You can still call me Sheriff… but only if it comes with a kiss.”
My heart flips. He leans in, and when our lips meet, the whole world vanishes in a rush of heat and relief.
