Page 9 of Protector Daddy

I kept walking until I’d crossed through downtown and was now on the way out of town. These particular streets held only the occasional business and sidewalks weren’t a certainty. When the properties grew farther apart and the sidewalks ended, I made sure to stay close to the expansive lawns. The scent of freshly cut grass and hay from the bales stacked as decorations near front doors filled my nose, and in the distance, children’s excited laughter mixed with the occasional spooky sound from an animated creature.

It was Halloween and dusk wasn’t far off. This wasn’t the best day to go wandering. My toes were seriously starting to hurt. And I was pretty sure I had a blister. Or two.

At least I’d worn wedge heels rather than spiked, but still, ouch.

I stopped to catch my breath as the scattered street lights flickered on, just the slightest bit of unease curling in my belly. On a whim, I tugged out my phone. I could’ve called my best friend or my sister-in-law or my brothers. Or heck, any of my other friends.

Instead, I called the station. Christian answered on the second ring.

“Hi,” I said softly.

“Honey?” Immediately, his tone was commanding concern. How he could sound like both at the same time, I wasn’t sure.

“Yeah. Can you do me a favor?”

“Anything.”

So quick to help. True, he was a cop, but had anyone offered me assistance so fast before? I didn’t think so.

“Honey, what do you need?” His tone sharpened.

“A ride.”

“Where are you?”

I looked over my head at the street sign partially obscured by a particularly leafy tree. “Um, Elm Lane?”

“Elm Lane? That’s almost into Turnbull. Why are you out there?”

“I went walking. Had a buzz of adrenaline I needed to work off.”

There was an understatement.

“In that dress and those heels?”

So he’d paid attention to what I had on. Score one for not being an oblivious male.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I tugged my cardigan from where I’d tucked it around the strap of my purse and shrugged it on.

“You know how you look in that dress.”

I didn’t respond. I wanted to ask him since when did he care what I looked like, but I’d suffered a similar bolt of awareness today so I didn’t have room to talk.

“Yeah, well, my footwear is a bigger problem. Wish I’d worn sneakers.”

“I’ll come pick you up.” His tone brooked no arguments. “I can be there in ten. Wait for me, Honey.”

There was absolutely no reason for a lump to form in my throat. Was I really that hard up that the smallest crumb of kindness from a guy who’d had his tongue down my throat an hour ago was enough to make me misty?

Apparently so.

“I’ll wait.”

I could tell he was already moving around. The jingle of keys, the snap of his mug on his desk, his low curse when he banged into something. I smiled, clutching my phone just a little tighter.

“I can stay on the phone,” he said into the silence.

“While you drive out here?” I couldn’t keep the surprise from my voice.

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