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)
Ranger notices. Of course, he does.
“They’re just being idiots,” I whisper, trying to play it off. “It’s fine.”
He doesn’t respond. His hands are on the table now, fingers drumming a slow, deliberate rhythm against the wood.
I take a sip of my water and try to focus on anything else, but I can feel their eyes still darting my way. Finally, I hear one of them—Tank Top—say it loud enough for me to hear.
“Hey, sweetheart, you lost? You look like you belong on a runway, not in this place.”
I freeze. My hand stops halfway to my glass.
Before I can even react, Ranger is already turning his head.
Slowly, his dark eyes lock onto the guy like a predator finding its prey. The smile that flashes across his face is anything but friendly.
“Don’t,” Ranger says, his voice low, steady, and dangerous. It sends a chill down my spine.
Tank Top looks taken aback for half a second before puffing out his chest. “Relax, man. Just making conversation.”
“You’re done talking,” Ranger replies, sliding out of the booth and rising to his full, imposing height. The guys at the table go quiet as Ranger steps closer, his calm demeanor far more terrifying than any shouting could be.
“Hey, I didn’t mean anything by it,” Tank Top mutters, suddenly not so brave.
Ranger doesn’t say another word. He just stands there, his presence alone enough to send the message: Don’t fuck with her.
After a tense beat, the guy looks away, mumbling something to his friends. They all drop their gazes, suddenly very interested in their menus.
Ranger turns back to me, his face unreadable, and holds out his hand. “Let’s go.”
I don’t argue. I slip my hand into his, letting him pull me to my feet. He drops a few bills on the table to cover the meal, then leads me toward the door without another glance at the group of guys.
The moment we step outside, the cool breeze hits me, and I let out a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding. Ranger still has my hand in his, his grip firm and reassuring.
“Are you okay?” he asks, glancing down at me.
I nod quickly. “Yeah. Thank you. You didn’t have to—”
“Yes, I did,” he says firmly. “They weren’t going to stop.”
Something about the way he says it—so certain, so protective—makes my chest tighten. His gaze still scans the area like he’s looking for more threats, and as much as I want to pretend I don’t need protecting, I can’t help but feel grateful that he’s here. That he’s him.
I look up at him and smile softly. “For the record, I really liked those pancakes.”
He glances down at me, the corner of his mouth twitching. “For the record, I really liked scaring the shit out of those guys.”
I laugh, and just like that, the tension melts away. With Ranger, I know I’m safe. And for the first time in my life, I think maybe being protected doesn’t feel so bad.
Chapter 9
Ranger
The sun hangs low on the horizon as we leave the diner behind, its orange and pink glow painting the sky like a masterpiece. The air has cooled, the heat of the day fading into something softer, gentler. Tory’s hand is still in mine, and for once, I don’t let go. I tell myself it’s because I want to keep her close, that I’m just doing my job, but I know the truth.
I like this. I like her hand in mine, her warmth tethering me to the moment, to her.
Neither of us says much as we make our way back along the beach path, the sound of the waves filling the silence like a quiet lullaby. It’s the kind of calm that gets inside you, makes you feel peaceful even when your mind is a mess.
I glance down at her as we walk. She’s looking straight ahead, her lips curved into the smallest of smiles. She’s wearing that simple white sundress she picked for today, and her hair is loose, dancing in the breeze like golden silk. I don’t know how she does it—how she makes everything around her seem softer, brighter—just by existing.
As we near the house, she slows down and tugs lightly on my hand. “Can we stop for a minute?”
I nod, following her lead as she veers toward the beach. We step off the boardwalk and onto the cool, packed sand. The ocean stretches out before us, endless and dark now, the last slivers of daylight glinting off the waves.
We stand side by side, close enough that her shoulder brushes mine, and stare out at the water. The wind tugs at her hair, carrying the salty scent of the sea, and I close my eyes for a moment, taking it in.
“It’s beautiful,” she murmurs, breaking the silence.
“It is.” I open my eyes and look at her instead of the water, because no view could ever compete with the one beside me. “Peaceful.”