Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 46078 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 230(@200wpm)___ 184(@250wpm)___ 154(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46078 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 230(@200wpm)___ 184(@250wpm)___ 154(@300wpm)
What am I doing? I’ve spent my whole life grounded in logic, in facts, in certainty. And now, this man—a man who’s only supposed to be a protector—has unraveled me completely. I toss onto my other side, frustration bubbling up in my chest.
He’s so different from anyone I’ve ever known. Where I’m cautious, Ranger is steady. Where I overthink everything, Ranger seems to act on instinct, like he trusts himself without question. He doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t second-guess.
And I envy that. I envy him.
But more than that, I want to be close to him again. I want to feel his warmth, the strength in his touch, the quiet way he makes me feel seen.
My breathing slows as I lay still, my heart thudding softly against the pillow. What if I never feel this again? What if I go back to my life and forget what it’s like to be kissed like that? To be looked at like I matter?
Stop, I scold myself. This can’t be real. It’s not practical. Men like Ranger don’t fall for women like me. He’s here to do a job, and when it’s done, he’ll move on. That’s how this works.
But what if… what if it doesn’t have to end like that?
I groan and press my face into the pillow, feeling utterly ridiculous. I’ve known him for like a day—one full day—and I’m already falling apart over him. That’s not like me. It’s not logical.
And yet, here I am, wide awake at midnight, longing for him like some kind of lovesick teenager.
Maybe it’s the way he sees me, or maybe it’s the fact that I feel safe with him—truly safe—for the first time in forever. Or maybe it’s because when he looks at me, I forget how small I’ve always felt. I forget the shadows, the doubt, the fear.
I squeeze my eyes shut and roll onto my back again, staring up at the ceiling. The silence in the room feels louder now, as though the walls themselves are echoing my thoughts.
I’m tempted to get up, to go find him, just to hear his voice, to know he’s still here. But I don’t. I can’t. I’m not brave enough for that.
Instead, I lay there, tangled in my sheets, my mind a whirlwind of questions I don’t have answers for. What is this all? Is it real?
Don’t be stupid, I tell myself. He kissed you. And it wasn’t just a kiss. It was fire and lightning and everything I never knew I wanted.
I close my eyes, my heart aching in a way I don’t know how to soothe. For now, I’ll let myself hold onto the memory of it—the way his lips felt, the sound of his voice when he murmured my name, the way he made me feel like I wasn’t invisible.
And I wonder—when this is all over, when I go back to my father’s world and Ranger goes back to his—will I ever feel that again?
I don’t know the answer, but the thought leaves me hollow.
Chapter 7
Ranger
The morning sun streams through the curtains, golden light spilling into the safe house like a silent promise. I’m up before her, of course, moving quietly through the kitchen to make coffee and toss a few pancakes. For the first time in a long time, I don’t feel the usual edge of tension in the pit of my stomach. It’s still there—I don’t drop my guard—but having Tory here, bumbling around with her crystals and shy smiles, makes the weight a little easier to bear.
When she emerges from the bedroom, her hair a little wild from sleep and her glasses perched on her nose, it takes every ounce of my self-control not to stare. She’s in yoga pants and an oversized hoodie, looking comfortable but somehow still impossibly beautiful.
“Morning,” she says through a yawn, blinking at me like I’m the most surprising thing she’s seen all day.
“Morning,” I reply, setting a mug of coffee in front of her. “Breakfast is ready. Eat up.”
She smiles sleepily, and I find myself smiling back. It’s a dangerous habit, this thing she’s doing to me. I should stop it, but I don’t want to. “You made me pancakes?”
I smile. “I know you like them.”
Her cheeks tinge pink as she slices into the pancakes. “Thank you,” she whispers before taking a bite.
Once we’ve eaten, I make a suggestion. “There’s a boardwalk nearby, runs along the beach. We could walk there if you’re up for it.”
She looks up from her empty plate, curiosity sparking in her blue eyes. “A boardwalk? What’s there?”
“Shops, food stalls, and a craft fair,” I say, watching her closely. “Figured you might like it. We’ve been cooped up here for two days. A little fresh air won’t hurt.”
Her lips quirk up into a smile. “You just want me to stop distracting you while you read Sherlock Holmes.”