Chapter 3
Ethan
I blink at the beautiful girl.
No.
It can’t be.
But then I think about all the times Jack talked about him. Her.
Matty. Grandkid.
Did he ever say he?
My jaw clenches.
That sneaky bastard knew exactly what he was doing.
He must’ve known all along that he’d ask me, like he did, to keep an eye on his grandkid when they take over the property.
He knew I’d say yes more easily if I thought Matty was a guy.
Knew I’d argue about it if he told me the person inheriting his cabin was a gorgeous little sexpot in a frilly dress and pretty white panties.
He knew I’d keep my fucking distance if he told me Matty was a damn girl.
And what a girl she is.
Standing here, just a few strides away, I can see all of her.
The pink on her cheeks.
The golden brown of her eyes.
And the twig stuck in her hair, next to her ear, making her look like some sort of alluring, curvy mountain fairy.
The cleavage.
Her heaving cleavage in her little strappy dress that belongs on a bedroom floor, not doing yard work.
Then I take in the mud smeared on her skirt.
The bright red streak of blood running down from her scraped-up knee.
And fuck. I feel bad for frightening her.
“Matty, I’m—”
“Tilda.” She speaks over me, then lifts a shoulder. “Or, well, Matilda. Technically. Uncle Jack was the only one who called me Matty.”
“Tilda.” I say it slowly. Feeling the letters on my tongue. “I’m sorry for startling you.” I dip my chin toward her knee. “Are you okay?”
She nods, but her lips are pressed together, so I don’t believe her. Then she visibly swallows when she glances back down at my gun. “Um, who are you?”
“I’m Ethan.” I use my empty hand and point to the badge on my shirt. “Park ranger.”
She looks toward the fence, then back to me. “You work in that park?”
“Lonely Peak State Park, yes.”
She bites her lip, glancing back down at the ribbon in my grip. “Can I see some ID?”
I lift a brow. “Do you know what a park ranger ID is supposed to look like?”
Tilda shakes her head, her purple curls swaying with the motion.
“Then how will you know it’s not a fake?”
She bites her lip. And I feel like an asshole.
But I’m not here to be her friend.
I’m not here to be her anything.
I simply told Jack I’d keep an eye on his grandkid. And pointing out the flaw in her plan might be rude, but if she’s going to live out here—way the fuck out here, all alone—she needs to be smart about her choices.
Which reminds me that she didn’t hear me approaching. I wasn’t even trying to be quiet.
“There are bears out here. And mountain lions. And coyotes and foxes and moose.” Maybe it makes me more of an asshole to point it out so bluntly, but so be it. She needs to be careful.
“I know. Uncle Jack told me about the wildlife. I was humming so animals would know I was here.” She drops her gaze back to the torn ribbon in my hand. “Why’d you do that?”
I give the shreds a shake. “You can’t tie shit to the park fence. Even if it’s just some silly ribbon.”
Her eyes snap up to mine.
And fuck, she’s pretty.
Even with the scraped-up knee and dirty skirt, she looks ready for a tea party in the forest.
A dirty tea party. One where she sits on my lap and I bury my face in her tits.
I clear my throat. “You need to take the rest of it down.”
“Seriously? It’s not hurting anyone.”
“Seriously.” I cross my arms. “Be happy I’m not giving you a ticket.”
Her mouth pops open. “A ticket? For some ribbon?”
“Doesn’t matter if it’s ribbon or razor wire, it’s illegal to vandalize public property.” I pull an arm free and gesture to a strand of beads hanging from the tree next to Tilda. “It should be a crime to do this too.”
“To hang suncatchers?” She sounds truly surprised at my attitude. “I think they’re pretty.”
“Nature is pretty enough on its own.” I roll my eyes when I spot another tree with another strand of suncatchers.
“Yeah, but it doesn’t take away from the natural beauty. It enhances it.” Tilda argues.
I shake my head and huff. “You’re ridiculous.”
And… she flinches.
It’s the smallest movement.
The tiniest reaction.
But I see it.
And I hate it.
I open my mouth, wanting to tell her that I meant to say that’s ridiculous. Explain that my words came out wrong. Worse.
But she speaks before I can, her voice back to a whisper. “My family didn’t send you?”
She asked about her family earlier. When she saw my gun.
And… What the fuck?
“I don’t know your family. Just Jack. And he’s only mentioned you.”
She nods, slowly.
Her expression stays the same. Neutral.
But her eyes start to shine.
“Tilda…”
Her mouth tips up into a fake-as-fuck smile. “I’ll take the ribbon off the fence.” She blinks, and I feel something tighten inside me as I watch a pair of tears roll down her cheeks. “Was there anything else?”
She looks like a doll. Her features frozen in a mask of pleasantness. But the tears…
They make my chest hurt.
And I don’t reply.
I can’t.