Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 78603 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 393(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78603 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 393(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
She looks vulnerable—smaller, more fragile than she did earlier in the evening. The soft glow of moonlight coming through the window catches the curve of her cheek, and I realize I’ve been holding my breath.
I don’t know what to say at first. There’s a part of me that wants to tell her everything will be okay, but I’m not sure that’s the truth. I’m not sure about anything right now.
“Come here,” I finally say, my voice softer than I intend. “It’s all right.”
She steps into the room, hesitating only for a second before sitting on the edge of my bed, her hands clutching the hem of her T-shirt. I move over, making space for her, trying to keep it casual. But even I know that nothing about this is casual. Nothing about this is easy.
She’s just scared. That’s all this is.
I’m just here to protect her.
She shifts a little, inching closer, until she’s lying next to me, her head resting on the pillow. I can feel her warmth next to me, her breathing steady and even. I try not to think about how she smells—how soft her skin looks in the dim light.
For a moment, everything’s still. I can hear the wind rustling outside, the distant sounds of the night. And for the first time in hours, I finally feel like I can breathe.
She shifts again, pulling the covers up around her, her hand brushing against mine.
“Thanks,” she murmurs, the words barely audible, and I nod in the dark, my heart still racing. “I feel better.”
I don’t know how to respond. So I don’t. Instead, I stay as still as I can, trying to ignore the fact that she’s lying next to me, trusting me in a way that feels... wrong. But at the same time, it feels right.
The air is thick with tension, and I can feel her warmth seeping into me. I’m here to do my job, and that’s all. But for now, I’ll let her sleep. Let her feel safe, at least for one night.
Tomorrow is another day.
Chapter 6
Aubree
I wake up with a jolt, disoriented for a moment, not sure where I am. The softness of the sheets beneath me is the first thing I notice, the warmth of the bed, the faint smell of wood and pine in the air. I blink a few times, trying to clear the sleep from my eyes, and then it hits me—I’m in Boone’s bed. I sit up slowly, the sheets rustling around me as I take in my surroundings. The room is quiet, still. The sunlight streams through the window, casting long shadows across the floor. The silence feels peaceful, but also oddly heavy, like something’s about to shift.
Boone. He’s not here.
My heart beats a little faster at the thought of him. But I shake it off. I don’t know why I should care about where he is. He’s just my bodyguard, here to do a job. Nothing more.
I pull myself out of bed, stretching my limbs, and head to the bathroom. The cold tile beneath my feet is a sharp contrast to the warm bed, and I welcome the brief shiver. I wash my face quickly, then run my fingers through my hair, trying to make myself presentable. My reflection stares back at me—eyes still a little puffy, face flushed from sleeping.
I take a deep breath. Time to face the day.
I step back into the bedroom, pulling on my hoodie and some sweatpants. I don’t feel like being glamorous today. I just need to get through the next few hours without completely falling apart.
I open the door to the hallway and step into the living room, but the house is quiet. Too quiet. I glance around, but Boone’s not inside. I walk toward the front door, the sound of the wind rustling through the trees outside drifting through the cracks of the cabin.
And then I hear it.
The rhythmic sound of an axe chopping into wood. The noise is sharp, steady, the impact of each swing echoing against the trees. Curiosity pulls me forward, and before I even realize it, I’m stepping outside, the cold air hitting me immediately.
I stop short when I see him.
Boone’s standing out there, by the woodpile, chopping firewood. But it’s not just the chopping that catches my attention—it’s the way he looks while doing it. His broad shoulders flex with each swing, the muscles in his back rippling beneath his skin. His shirt is gone, his tanned bare skin glistening in the morning light as beads of sweat dot his skin despite the cool air. The sun hits him just right, outlining the defined lines of his body. His chest is broad and sculpted, the tattoo on his arm and neck taking center stage. Wow.
I can’t help but stare.
I watch him work, my breath caught in my throat. I’ve been out of the dating game for a long time, not that I ever had much of a chance to date. My ex, Dustin, was... well, he was nothing like Boone. Dustin was scrawny, quiet, and predictable. Nothing about him made my heart race, nothing about him made me feel like my whole body was alive. But Boone? Everything about him is different. From the way he stands to the way he moves. Even the way he holds the axe seems like it’s effortlessly masculine.