Page 3 of Road Trip With Her Daddy Protector

“Stay close,” I mutter as we get out, scanning the parking lot with narrowed eyes. Old habits die hard, and my years in the military taught me caution, vigilance. Especially when protecting something—or someone—I care about.

Lola nods obediently, stepping close enough for me to catch a hint of vanilla perfume that tightens my chest. Ignoring the effect she has on me, I open the diner’s glass door and gesture her inside.

A bored-looking waitress glances up from the counter, handing us worn menus. “Sit wherever you like,” she drawls, eyeing me curiously before returning to her crossword puzzle.

We choose a booth toward the back, away from the door and the handful of other patrons. Lola slides onto the cracked red vinyl bench, and I settle across from her, careful not to accidentally brush her legs beneath the table.

Her eyes flit over the menu, but I notice her hand trembling slightly. I want to reach across, steady her nerves, reassure her she’s safe with me. Instead, I clasp my hands tightly, fighting the impulse.

“Order whatever you want,” I say, trying to soften my usual gruff tone.

She glances up, startled, her gaze flickering with uncertainty. “Gus, you don't have to?—”

“I want to,” I interrupt firmly, unwilling to argue about something so trivial. “I promised your dad I'd take care of you. That means feeding you, too.”

She smiles faintly, relaxing just a fraction. “Dad always said you were stubborn.”

“Your dad knew me too well,” I mutter, a reluctant smile tugging at the corner of my lips. I miss Ben more than I like to admit, and seeing pieces of him in Lola only makes it harder. “Besides, stubborn is good sometimes. Keeps people alive.”

Her smile fades, eyes drifting down to her menu again. “Gus, what’s our plan? You still haven’t really told me.”

My jaw tightens instinctively. The truth is, I don't have a clear answer yet, not beyond running and waiting for my old buddiesto track Tyler down and neutralize the threat permanently. But I can’t tell her that—not yet.

“Right now, the plan is simple. We keep moving,” I say, voice rougher than before. “The further you are from Tyler, the safer you’ll be.”

Lola chews her lower lip thoughtfully, worry darkening her features. “But what about after? What happens then?”

The waitress interrupts, pad and pen ready. Lola orders a grilled cheese and fries, and I settle for coffee, too restless to eat anything substantial. Once we’re alone again, Lola’s question hangs heavy between us.

“After,” I finally reply, voice measured, “we stay hidden until I know he’s no longer a threat.”

Her eyes widen, fear pooling behind those bright blues. “You mean until he’s dead.”

I grit my teeth, eyes narrowing. “Whatever it takes. Tyler Cole forfeited mercy the moment he threatened you. And trust me, my friends don't mess around.”

She swallows visibly, pushing her long hair away from her face. “I don’t want you or your friends getting hurt because of me.”

I lean forward slightly, lowering my voice. “This isn’t on you, Lola. None of this is your fault. Tyler’s a predator who chose the wrong victim.” My voice drops to a near-growl. “I’ll handle it.”

Lola's eyes soften with unexpected emotion, her voice barely audible. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn't shown up, Gus.”

My chest tightens painfully at her vulnerability. Damn it, this girl is going to ruin me. “I’ll always show up for you, Lola,” I mutter, uncomfortable with the intensity crackling between us. “Your dad trusted me, and I don’t break promises.”

Her expression falters briefly, something shifting in her gaze—something that makes me feel exposed. “It’s not just because of Dad, is it?”

I hesitate, searching for words that won't betray me. “No, it's not,” I admit quietly. “But we can’t have that conversation right now. It’s complicated.”

Her cheeks flush slightly, eyes widening with surprise. “Complicated?”

I curse inwardly, annoyed at my own slip. “Forget it.”

“No,” she insists gently, leaning forward. “You never say anything without meaning it, Gus.”

The waitress drops off Lola’s plate, and I take the distraction gratefully, sipping my coffee to avoid answering immediately. But when Lola keeps staring, expecting an explanation, I finally sigh.

“Look, Lola, I’ve known you your entire life. Watched you grow up. Protected you,” I say, each word careful and deliberate. “You’re young. Beautiful. You deserve someone who can give you more than protection.”

“What if protection is exactly what I want?” she whispers, voice tremulous.

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