Page 2 of Curvy Girl and the Protector Cowboy

"Did your car break down?" I ask, trying to make sense of how a bride and a kid wandered onto our land. We're miles from the nearest main road.

She glances over her shoulder, toward the tree line that marks the eastern boundary of our property. When she looks back at me, there's a flash of calculation in her eyes.

"I'm sorry," she finally says, her voice stronger than I expected. "We'll go."

The kid—a boy, I can see now—tightens his grip around her neck as she turns to leave.

"Wait," I call, careful not to raise my voice too much. "It'll be dark soon. And there's nothing but woods that way for miles."

She pauses, and I can see her shoulders rise and fall with a deep breath.

"Look," I continue, "I don't know what's going on, but my family's house is just over that rise. We can offer you some water, maybe a phone call."

At the mention of a phone, she tenses visibly. Interesting.

"No police," she says firmly, turning back to face me. It's not a question.

I nod slowly. "That's your call."

The boy whispers again, louder this time. "I'm thirsty.."

For a moment, she seems to weigh her options, looking from me to the distant tree line and back. The kid must be getting heavy; her arms tremble slightly under his weight.

"One glass of water," she finally says. "Then we need to go."

I nod again, careful to keep my expression neutral.

"House is this way." I gesture toward the path that leads back to the main buildings. "I'm Cole, by the way. Cole Covington."

She hesitates, then says, "Luisa." She doesn't offer a last name, and I don't ask.

"Nice to meet you, Luisa." I start walking, mindful not to limp too obviously. My ankle protests, but I ignore it. She follows at a distance, maintaining a good ten feet between us.

As we make our way toward the house, I notice she's barefoot. Her dress catches on a bramble, and she tugs it free with one hand while balancing the boy on her hip.

I slow my pace, giving her time to navigate the uneven ground. Through the silence, I can hear distant voices from the main house—Jackson's deep laugh, probably at something Vincent said.

I wonder what my brothers will make of our unexpected visitors. I wonder what made a woman flee her own wedding with a child in tow. I wonder how far she's come, and who might be following.

But most of all, I wonder how someone who looks so fragile can have eyes that burn with such fierce determination.

The house comes into view around the bend, and Luisa stops abruptly. Her grip on the boy tightens as she takes in the sprawling two-story ranch house with its wide porch and multiple vehicles parked out front.

"That's... a big house," she says, wariness creeping back into her voice.

"Five brothers under one roof requires space," I explain, trying to keep my tone casual. "Don't worry—they're all decent men." I pause, then add with a half-smile, "Well, except maybe Ethan, but he's harmless. Just annoying."

The joke falls flat. Luisa remains tense, scanning the property like she's memorizing escape routes.

"How about this," I offer, noting the panic rising in her expression. "Wait here. I'll bring water out to you and the little guy."

The boy lifts his head, looking at me properly for the first time. He has Luisa's eyes—deep and wide with a speckle of amber. He stares at me with surprising intensity for a child so young.

"Mama," he says, patting Luisa's cheek to get her attention. "I'm hungry too."

Something flickers across her face—guilt, maybe—before she presses a kiss to his forehead. "I know, baby. We'll find something soon."

I pretend not to hear the quiet desperation in her voice.

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