Chapter 8
8
GAVIN
T he next evening, Gavin leaned against the kitchen counter at the ranch, arms crossed as he watched Roxie pace back and forth. She was still in a pair of leggings and an oversized sweatshirt—one of his—but the defiance in her posture made it clear she wasn’t in a mood to back down.
“I’m going back to work tonight,” Roxie said firmly, her voice leaving no room for doubt.
“No, you’re not,” Gavin replied, his tone calm but unyielding.
Roxie stopped mid-step and turned to face him, her eyes narrowing. “You don’t get to decide that, cowboy.”
“You’re damn right I do,” Gavin shot back, his voice rising slightly. “You think I’m going to let you walk into a place full of strangers with a target on your back?”
“I thought you screened everybody…”
“We do, but that doesn’t mean someone couldn’t get in as a guest or someone somebody planted from the beginning.”
“It’s my job!” Roxie snapped, throwing her hands in the air. “I don’t have the luxury of taking time off, Gavin. Some of us have bills to pay.”
“And some of us don’t want to see you dead!” he fired back, stepping closer.
The energy between them crackled like a live wire, the large, sunny kitchen suddenly feeling too crowded. Roxie planted her hands on her hips, her chin tilting up in defiance.
“You don’t get it,” she said, her voice shaking with frustration. “I’ve been taking care of myself for years. I don’t need you swooping in like some knight in shining armor, telling me what I can and can’t do.”
Gavin’s jaw tightened, his dark eyes flashing. “And I’m trying to keep you alive, but you’re too damn stubborn to see it.”
“Stubborn?” Roxie barked a laugh, the sound sharp and bitter. “You think I’m stubborn because I want to live my life? Because I don’t want to sit here waiting for someone to fix my problems?”
“It’s not about fixing your problems,” Gavin said, his voice dropping into a low rumble. “It’s about not letting you get killed because you’re too proud to accept help.”
Her eyes widened, and the anger between them gave way to something deeper—something raw and unspoken.
“I’ve been on my own since the day Jeremiah died,” Roxie said softly, her voice trembling. “No one helped me then. No one protected me when his parents took everything. I fought my way out of that mess by myself, Gavin. I didn’t need anyone then, and I don’t need anyone now.”
Gavin stepped closer, the intensity in his gaze making her falter. “You think letting someone help makes you weak?” he asked, his voice rough but steady. “It doesn’t. It means you’re smart enough to know you can’t fight this alone.”
Roxie opened her mouth to respond, but the words caught in her throat. She looked away, her arms wrapping around herself as if to shield against the truth in his words.
Gavin exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “Damn it, Roxie. You’re just about the strongest person I’ve ever met, but that doesn’t mean you have to do this on your own. SEALs are among the best fighting forces in the world—but we don’t operate individually, we operate as a team.”
Her gaze snapped back to his, and the vulnerability in her eyes tugged at something deep in his chest.
“Why do you care so much?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.
Gavin hesitated, his jaw working as he searched for the right words. “Because you matter,” he said finally, his voice low and firm. “And because I don’t want to see you get hurt. Not again.”
The weight of his words hung in the air, thick and heavy, as they stared at each other. Roxie’s breath hitched, and for the first time, her walls seemed to crack just a little.
But then she straightened, her chin lifting in that familiar gesture of defiance. “I can’t just sit here, Gavin. I have to work. I have to do something.”
Gavin sighed, his frustration giving way to reluctant understanding. “Fine,” he said, his voice gruff. “But you’re not going alone.”
Her brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, if you’re going back to the Iron Spur, you can be damn sure there will be someone standing guard, most likely me.”
Roxie blinked, clearly taken aback. “You’re going to babysit me while I pour drinks?”
“Call it whatever you want,” Gavin said, his lips twitching into a faint grin. “But I’m not letting you out of my sight.”
Roxie stared at him for a long moment, her expression a mix of exasperation and something softer she didn’t seem ready to name.
“Fine,” she said finally, rolling her eyes. “But if you scare off my tips, I’ll expect you to make them good.”
Gavin chuckled, the sound low and warm. “Deal.”
As she turned to grab her things, Gavin watched her, his chest tightening with a mix of admiration and something far more dangerous. Roxie was a force to be reckoned with, and whether she realized it or not, she’d already gotten under his skin.
And heaven help anyone who tried to hurt her again.
The ride to the Iron Spur was steeped in silence, but it wasn’t the comfortable kind. An uneasy energy filled the cab of Gavin’s truck, unspoken words lingering between them like heavy storm clouds. Roxie sat with her arms crossed, staring out the window, her jaw tight with the same stubbornness that had fueled their earlier argument.
Gavin stole a glance at her, his knuckles tightening around the wheel. She looked fierce and untouchable, but he could see the cracks—the vulnerability she tried so hard to hide. And damn it, he couldn’t stop thinking about how much he wanted to protect her, even from herself.
When they pulled into the back lot of the club, Gavin killed the engine and turned toward her. “Roxie...”
“Don’t,” she cut him off, her voice sharp. She unbuckled her seatbelt and opened the door, stepping out before he could finish whatever he’d been about to say.
Gavin followed, catching up to her as she strode toward the employee entrance. “Hold up,” he said, his long strides matching hers easily.
Roxie spun around, her eyes blazing. “What, Gavin? What do you want now?”
He stopped just short of her, the intensity in her gaze making his chest tighten. “I want you to stop pretending this doesn’t scare you,” he said, his voice low but firm.
“I’m not scared,” she shot back, but the waver in her voice betrayed her.
“Bullshit,” Gavin said, stepping closer. “You’re scared, Roxie. You wouldn’t be human if you weren’t. And it’s okay to admit it.”
Her lips parted, but no words came out. The fire in her eyes dimmed, replaced by something raw and unguarded. “You don’t know what it’s like,” she said softly. “To feel like everything you’ve built can be ripped away in an instant. To fight so hard, only to keep losing.”
Gavin’s chest ached at the pain in her voice. He reached out, his hand brushing her arm, and felt her shiver under his touch. “You’re not losing now,” he said quietly. “Not while I’m here.”
Their eyes locked, the air between them crackling with an intensity neither of them could ignore. Roxie’s breath hitched, her gaze flicking to his lips for the briefest moment before snapping back to his eyes.
“Gavin…” she whispered, her voice barely audible.
He didn’t know who moved first, but suddenly, the space between them vanished. His hand slid up her arm to cup her cheek, and she leaned into his touch, her lips parting as he lowered his head. The kiss was fire and desperation, soft at first but quickly deepening as their restraint shattered.
Roxie’s hands found his chest, clutching at his shirt as if to anchor herself, while Gavin’s free hand settled at her waist, pulling her closer. She tasted like coffee, defiance and wild honey, and it was everything he hadn’t realized he needed.
Her lips felt soft and sweet beneath his and he nibbled on her lower lip—teasing, persuading, seducing—as his hand moved from the small of her back to her ass.
“So sweet,” he whispered against her mouth. Gavin had been drunk many times in his life, but nothing had ever made him feel this out of control.
As he moved his mouth across hers, she parted her lips and his tongue surged in, like a Viking storming the castle in search of plunder. His tongue slid along hers, tangling, dancing, commanding as he reached up to cup her head, running his fingers through her short locks. He tightened his hold so he could angle her mouth just the way he wanted.
When she moaned and melted against him, seduction turned to dominance as the kiss morphed from persuasion to possession. But then, just as suddenly as it started, Gavin pulled back, his breathing ragged as he put a small but deliberate distance between them.
“Roxie…” he began, his voice rough. “I can’t.”
Her brows knitted in confusion, her lips still parted as she tried to catch her breath. “What do you mean, you can’t?”
Gavin ran a hand through his hair, his jaw tight. “This… you… I need to stay focused. I can’t protect you if I’m… distracted.”
“Distracted?” she echoed, a mix of anger and hurt flashing across her face.
“You deserve better than this,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “Than me.”
Roxie stepped back, crossing her arms over her chest as her walls slammed back into place. “You’re unbelievable, you know that? You tell me to trust you, to let you help, and then you pull this shit? You bastard.”
“I’m trying to do the right thing,” Gavin said, his voice tight with frustration.
“Maybe you should’ve thought about that before kissing me,” she shot back, her voice cracking at the end.
Gavin opened his mouth to respond but stopped himself, the words dying in his throat. Instead, he stepped back and gestured toward the door. “Go on inside. I’ll be close behind.”
Roxie stared at him for a long moment, her emotions a whirlwind she didn’t have the energy to untangle. Without another word, she turned and walked into the club, the door closing behind her with a soft thud.
Gavin leaned against the side of his truck, the cool night air doing little to calm the heat coursing through him. He hadn’t meant for it to happen—for the tension to boil over into something he couldn’t take back.
But now that it had, there was no denying the truth. Roxie wasn’t just another case to him. She was more than that, and it scared the hell out of him.
As he stared at the glowing lights of the club, one thought settled in his mind with unwavering clarity: whatever it took, he wasn’t going to be the next guy that let her down. He would be the one standing with her at the end, just so long as she didn’t rip off his balls before it was over. Shaking his head at his romantic notions, he headed into the club.