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)
“Hungry?” Ranger asks, his voice low and rumbly as he holds the door open for me.
I glance up at him—this towering wall of muscle who somehow feels safer than anyone I’ve ever known—and smile. “Starving. You’ve walked me halfway across the coast.”
He smirks. “You’re still standing, aren’t you?”
“Barely,” I shoot back playfully, stepping inside.
The bell above the door jingles, and the waitress—a middle-aged woman with a kind smile and a nametag that reads Linda—greets us with a bright, “Sit anywhere you like, hon!”
We settle into a booth by the window. Ranger slides in across from me, the vinyl creaking under his weight. It’s ridiculous how good he looks even here, in a tiny hole-in-the-wall diner. He makes everything around him look smaller, like he doesn’t belong in a place so ordinary.
“What are you getting?” he asks, flipping open the menu like he’s done this a million times before.
“Pancakes,” I reply without hesitation. “With extra syrup.”
He raises an eyebrow. “You and your pancakes.”
“What can I say? I’m consistent.” I grin, closing my menu. “And you?”
“Burger. Always the burger,” he replies, then sets the menu aside. “Gotta keep these muscles enormous, remember?”
I laugh softly, a sound I didn’t know I needed to hear from myself today. Being with Ranger makes everything feel lighter, as if I’ve stepped out of my own overthinking mind for once and into a world where it’s okay to just be.
Linda comes by with her notepad, and we place our orders. “Pancakes for the lady, and a burger for the gentleman. How do you want it cooked, sweetie?” Linda asks with a smile.
“Medium,” Ranger says with a nod.
Linda smiles and scribbles it down. “You two make a cute couple.”
I nearly choke on air. “Oh! We’re not—we’re just…”
Ranger smirks at my flustered explanation, clearly amused. “Just hungry,” he finishes for me.
Linda chuckles and winks at me. “Right. Well, I’ll get that started for ya.”
As soon as she leaves, I drop my face into my hands and groan. “Why does everyone think we’re a couple?”
“Maybe because we look good together,” Ranger replies casually, leaning back against the booth and crossing his arms.
I peek at him through my fingers. “You’re impossible.”
He shrugs, the smirk still lingering on his lips. “Just saying. Linda’s got good taste.”
I roll my eyes but can’t help smiling as I sit back in my seat. The energy between us feels easy, natural. For someone like me—someone who’s spent most of her life feeling awkward in social settings—it’s a strange but welcome change.
The food arrives quicker than I expect. Linda sets down a plate of fluffy pancakes dripping with syrup in front of me and a burger the size of my head in front of Ranger. “Enjoy, darlin’.”
I dig in immediately, the sweet, buttery taste of the pancakes making me hum with happiness. “Oh my God. These are so good.”
Ranger’s halfway through his burger already, and he raises an eyebrow. “You always make noises when you eat?”
I glare at him, my cheeks heating. “Only when it’s really good food.”
“You’re a food critic’s dream.”
“Better than a Neanderthal inhaling a burger,” I fire back, pointing my fork at him.
He grins, his dark eyes lighting up with something warm that makes my heart do this weird flip. “Fair point.”
We eat and chat—about nothing and everything. He asks me about how I got into jewelry-making, and I explain how I started collecting crystals on trips with my dad, turning them into something beautiful when I needed a creative outlet. In return, he tells me stories about growing up with his sister, about getting into trouble as kids and how he always played protector.
“I guess it makes sense that you do this now,” I say, gesturing toward him with my fork.
“What, eat burgers?”
“No,” I laugh. “Protect people. You’re good at it.”
His expression softens slightly, and he gives me a small, almost shy smile. “Thanks, Tory.”
The moment hangs there, quiet and meaningful, until the sound of the diner door opening pulls me out of it. I glance up instinctively. A group of guys enters—four of them—laughing loudly and clapping each other on the back as they make their way toward a table a few booths down from ours.
Immediately, the energy shifts.
I don’t know if it’s instinct or if I’ve just been around Ranger long enough to pick up on his vibe, but I feel it. His shoulders go a little stiffer, his gaze sharpens, and the lightness that was just between us evaporates.
“What is it?” I ask quietly.
He doesn’t look at me. His eyes stay fixed on the group of guys, watching them like a hawk. “Nothing. Just… keep eating.”
But I can’t. I feel their eyes on me. The occasional burst of laughter from their table makes me shrink back against the booth, and I know Ranger feels it too because his jaw tightens.
One of the guys—tall, scruffy, and wearing a tank top that shows off his sunburned shoulders—glances over at me, then leans toward his friend and mutters something. They both snicker, and my skin crawls.