Page 2 of Road Trip With Her Daddy Protector

My heart thuds again. “Just you and me?”

His jaw ticks visibly beneath his scruffy beard, his large hands flexing on the steering wheel. “It’s safer that way. At least until I know Tyler’s been handled.”

A strange heat floods my cheeks, and I bite down on my lip hard. “Handled?”

He flicks his gaze toward me, eyes stormy with a dark promise. “He hurt you, Lola. That means he has a reckoning coming.”

The air between us thickens further, tension tightening like a string about to snap. My heart beats violently in my chest, and I have to remind myself to breathe.

“I don’t want you getting hurt because of me,” I murmur, shifting in the worn leather seat.

He gives a humorless laugh. “Trust me, kid. I’ve dealt with worse than Tyler Cole.”

I hate when he calls me kid—especially now, when the weight of this moment, this closeness, pulses through every nerve ending. I’m twenty-one, hardly a child. But next to Gus, I’ve always felt younger, inexperienced—naive.

He sighs heavily, as if reading my thoughts. “Lola, you need to know something.” His voice is deeper, hoarser, than I’ve ever heard it. “Your father was my best friend. I promised him I’d always look after you. But that’s not why I’m doing this. Not the only reason, anyway.”

My breath hitches sharply, eyes widening. “Then…why?”

He hesitates, hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly I’m afraid he’ll break it. “It’s complicated.”

“Tell me,” I say softly, heart hammering so hard I’m sure he can hear it.

“I can’t,” he growls, frustration and regret mingling in his voice. “Not now. Not like this.”

The ache inside me grows. “Then when?”

His eyes lock on mine again, intense and fiery in the dashboard’s faint glow. “When you’re safe, Lola. When there’s nothing between us except honesty.”

I nod slowly, even though it feels like he’s holding back something powerful—something dangerous and forbidden. But I can wait. Because Gus has never lied to me before.

Outside, the night stretches on endlessly, stars scattered across the sky like a map leading to an unknown future. Beside me, Gus’s steady presence anchors me to the moment. For now, it’s enough.

But as the truck roars onward into the night, I can’t ignore the quiet truth whispering deep inside my heart—Gus isn’t just my protector anymore. He’s something much more complicated, much more frightening.

Something forbidden.

And I have no idea how either of us will survive it.

2

Gus

The road stretches out before me, endless and dark. My eyes burn from staring at the dim glow of the headlights, and my fingers grip the steering wheel so hard they ache. Lola sits quietly in the passenger seat, curled up and staring out the window into the darkness, lost in her thoughts. Her silence is unsettling—too vulnerable, too unlike the spirited girl I've watched grow up.

Damn Tyler Cole. I clench my jaw, anger simmering beneath my skin. The mere thought of that cowardly bastard threatening her makes my blood boil. Lola’s father, Ben, was my best friend. My only friend. When he passed last year, I promised I'd keep Lola safe. But protecting her now feels far more personal than any oath I made to her father.

I glance at her again, taking in the soft curve of her cheek, the way the neon glow from passing signs washes gently across her pale skin. Lola’s always been off-limits—a bright spark far too young, too innocent, and definitely too tempting. At forty-three,I should know better. I should be ashamed of even noticing how beautiful she’s become.

She shifts slightly, sighing softly as she adjusts her position. I swallow hard, forcing my gaze back onto the dark road ahead. “Hungry?” My voice is gruffer than I intend, an attempt to hide how distracted she makes me feel.

“A little,” she answers quietly, turning her head slowly toward me. Her wide blue eyes meet mine, uncertain and searching. “But you don’t have to stop if?—”

“We're stopping.” The growl in my tone surprises even me. “You need food.”

A small, relieved smile flickers across her face, but she quickly covers it, nodding. “Thanks, Gus.”

I grunt something unintelligible in reply and slow the truck, pulling off Route 14 toward a neon-lit diner. The place looks ancient, the parking lot almost empty, just a few dusty trucks and motorcycles scattered about. Exactly the kind of quiet, anonymous spot we need right now.

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