Page 19 of Protecting What's Mine

I smirk. “Tastes better when it’s stolen.”

“Neanderthal,” she mutters under her breath, but she’s smiling as she takes a sip.

Somewhere between the lemonade and a guy playing acoustic guitar near the edge of the boardwalk, her hand brushes against mine. It’s unintentional—at first—but neither of us pulls away. I glance down at her, and she looks up at me, wide-eyed and blushing.

“Here,” I say quietly, slipping my hand into hers. It’s small and warm in my palm, and it feels sorightI can’t believe I haven’t done it sooner. “Easier to keep track of you this way.”

She doesn’t argue, though the blush creeps up her cheeks, and I know she’s trying not to smile.

“Sure,” she says softly. “For safety.”

“Exactly,” I reply, grinning as we keep walking, hand in hand.

And for the first time in years, I feel like I’m not just guarding someone—I’mliving.

Chapter 8

Tory

The little diner sits at the end of the boardwalk, tucked between a surf shop and a bait-and-tackle store. It’s the kind of place with neon signs buzzing in the window, scuffed linoleum floors, and the smell of sizzling bacon lingering in the air no matter what time of day it is. In other words, it’s perfect.

“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 readsLinda—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 justbe.

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?”

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