Chapter 4 #2
“I came back. Dad drank himself to death.” Another beat.
“I worked wherever I could. Broke horses. Built fences. Hopped from ranch to ranch. Met Gray a few years ago. He offered me a job that used my skills and kept my head on straight. I’ve been at Lone Star Security since. I keep a cabin near The Ranch.”
Sierra’s expression softens. “I… there’s so much in there. I’m sorry about your brother and your dad. That must have been…”
“Part of life,” I cut in, because pity makes my skin itch. “What about you?”
She smiles, though it doesn’t reach her eyes. “I grew up with a military dad and a mother who loved romantic comedies and crafts. She died when I was fifteen. Dad was gone a lot. I basically raised myself on cereal and YouTube tutorials.”
I can see it, too easily. A kid pretending she’s fine.
“I went to the University of Texas,” she continues. “Studied marketing because I like stories and people’s choices fascinate me. I wanted to work for an ad agency and create campaigns that actually told the truth instead of manipulating people.”
Her mouth twists. “Then I graduated and realized telling the truth doesn’t pay the bills. So, I took a job doing social media for a skincare company. I hated it.”
She shrugs like it’s nothing. It isn’t.
“My ex-boyfriend said I was ungrateful. Then he made out with my roommate and blamed me for not being interesting enough.” Her smile turns sharp. “That’s my sob story.”
It’s said with humor, but I hear the hurt under it.
“He was an idiot,” I say.
She shrugs. “Maybe. Probably. Doesn’t matter now. I moved apartments. Tried to focus on me. Then Dad died.” Her voice thins. “Now here we are.”
“Here we are,” I echo.
She meets my gaze head-on. “You’re my bodyguard.”
“That’s the job description, yes.”
“For how long?”
“As long as it takes to keep you alive and figure out who’s coming for you,” I say, keeping my voice steady. “But I need you to trust me with something.”
She swallows, then nods.
“Whatever you’re holding back,” I add, quieter now. “Whatever you haven’t said yet. That’s usually the thing that gets people killed. So, if there’s a reason they were in your apartment, I need it.”
Her fingers tighten around her purse strap.
My gaze drops to it. Back to her face.
Sierra’s breath catches, like the truth is sharp on the way out.
“There’s… something,” she admits. “A flash drive. I found it in my dad’s things. I tried to open it, but it’s locked. I didn’t tell Gray. I didn’t tell anyone.”
A beat of silence.
I don’t let the alarm show on my face, even as my body tenses.
“Where is it?” I ask.
She lifts the purse slightly, like the weight of it suddenly makes sense.
“In here.”
I nod once. “Alright. You did the right thing telling me. From now on, you don’t plug it into anything again, and you don’t let it out of your sight unless I say so.”
She swallows hard. “Okay.”
That last word is small, but it lands like trust.
“You’ll stay at my place,” I continue. “One bedroom. One bed. Couch pulls out. You take the bed.”
Her brows shoot up. “You take the couch?”
“I’ll take whatever keeps you safe.”
She bites her bottom lip. “I’ll take the couch. I’m not going to kick you out of your bed.”
My brain short-circuits. Just like that.
I picture her in my bed, sheets tangled around her thighs, her skin flushed and bare, nipples tight, eyes glazed with need.
Her legs open for me, dripping and ready, my mouth buried between them.
The way she’d moan when I suck her clit slow…
then fast. The way she’d arch, greedy, hips rocking against my face like she’s starved for it.
I’d hold her there, tease her until she breaks, until she’s shaking and breathless, begging for more. I’d learn every sound she makes, every twitch of muscle, every gasp that says I’ve found a spot no one ever touched right.
I want to ruin her for anyone else.
I want her coming on my tongue and screaming my name like it’s salvation.
The rush hits me hard, tightens every muscle, makes me shift in my seat to adjust the tension building under the table.
I drag in a breath. Slow. Measured. Brutal.
Because if I don’t stop thinking about her like this, I won’t stop myself at all.
I take a breath. Lock it down. Let the mission settle over me like armor.
Then I lean forward, voice steady. “Sierra. This isn’t a negotiation. It’s a safety measure. My bed’s against the wall, farthest from the door. Less exposure if someone busts in. The couch is directly across from the entrance.”
I lower my voice. “I’ll sleep there with a shotgun within reach. Not that I’m planning to let anything get past the outer perimeter, but we’re not taking chances.”
Her mouth drops open.
We finish our meal. Sierra insists on paying. I raise an eyebrow because I make good money and this is literally my job. She glares until I let her leave a tip.
Mary winks at me like she thinks she knows something I don’t.
Back in the truck, Sierra yawns. It’s late. Her head lolls and she startles awake.
I nod to the back seat.
“There’s a blanket. Pillow, too. If you want to take a power nap, I’ll wake you when we get there. It’s not far.”
“I don’t sleep in cars,” she says. “I’ve seen too many horror movies. That’s when the murderer attacks.”
I huff. “The only murderer you need to worry about is me if you don’t get some rest.”
Her eyes widen. “Was that a threat?”
“Figure of speech,” I mutter. “Sleep, darlin’.”
She grumbles but grabs the blanket. Ten minutes later, her head is against the window, lips slightly parted, breathing even. A strand of hair falls across her face.
I reach over on instinct to tuck it behind her ear.
I catch myself halfway.
No touching.
The kiss was a necessity, I tell myself.
There are rules.
But rules bend.
I brush the strand back gently anyway. Her skin is soft. She doesn’t stir. For a moment, my guard drops. The vulnerability on her face reminds me of sunbeams falling through barn rafters.
Brief. Beautiful. Rare.
The road to The Ranch twists through fields dotted with grazing cattle. The air smells fresher here. Like hay and dirt and possibility. The heavy weight that sits on my chest when I’m in cities lifts.
I roll down my window.
Sierra stirs, blinking awake. She squints at the scenery.
“Where are we?” she mumbles, voice sleep-thick.
“The Ranch,” I reply.