Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 29800 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 149(@200wpm)___ 119(@250wpm)___ 99(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 29800 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 149(@200wpm)___ 119(@250wpm)___ 99(@300wpm)
Not for me.
For us.
Nora notices it too.
The way men stop staring once I step beside her.
The way conversations lower when we pass.
The way everyone suddenly treats her differently because she’s attached to me now.
Her expression tightens slightly.
“You hate this,” I murmur.
“I hate that it works.”
Fair.
We split up briefly inside the store while I grab supplies from the back.
Big mistake.
I spot the problem instantly when I come back around the aisle.
Drunk guy.
Mid-thirties.
Local idiot named Travis.
His hand’s on Nora’s waist while he leans too close saying something that already has irritation flashing across her face.
“C’mon, sweetheart,” he says. “You can’t honestly be into Maddox. Guy barely talks.”
Nora steps back immediately. “Move.”
Instead of moving, his hand tightens.
That’s all it takes.
I cross the distance before I consciously decide to.
One second he’s touching her.
The next, I’ve got his wrist twisted hard enough to drop him halfway to his knees.
He yells instantly.
The entire store goes silent.
“What the fuck, Rhett?”
“Touch her again,” I say calmly, twisting harder until his face goes white, “and I’ll break it.”
Pain flashes across his expression immediately.
Real pain.
Nora grabs my arm. “Rhett.”
But I barely hear her.
Because something ugly and violent already snapped loose in my chest the second he touched her.
Mine.
The thought hits harder this time.
Possessive.
Primitive.
Dangerous.
“Alright,” Travis gasps. “Jesus Christ.”
I let go abruptly.
He stumbles backward clutching his wrist while everyone in the store pretends not to stare.
Nobody says a word.
Nobody challenges me.
Travis leaves immediately.
Nora’s quiet beside me afterward.
Too quiet.
“You okay?” I ask once we’re outside again.
She stares at me for a second too long before answering. “You almost broke his wrist.”
“Yeah.”
“You did it fast.”
“Yeah.”
Snow crunches beneath our boots while silence stretches between us.
Then quietly, “You scared me a little back there.”
That lands harder than it should.
I stop walking.
“So did he.”
Her breath catches slightly.
Because she knows that’s true.
I step closer slowly, lowering my voice. “Nobody touches what’s under my protection.”
Her pulse jumps visibly in her throat. “That sounds possessive.”
“It is.”
The honesty hits her hard.
I can see it.
Feel it.
“And that doesn’t concern you?” she asks quietly.
I look down at her mouth briefly before meeting her eyes again.
“No.”
That answer should probably concern me too.
Instead, all I can think about is how good she looked standing beside me while the entire town understood exactly what she was becoming to me.
A problem.
Mine.
And I’m starting to realize I like that a little too much.
Chapter Seven
Nora
The cabin feels different after town.
Quieter.
Not because Rhett suddenly stopped being impossible. If anything, he’s worse now, moving around the kitchen like he owns the air inside it, broad shoulders filling the small space while snow falls harder outside the windows again.
No, what changed is me.
Because I can still see the look on his face when that man touched me in the store.
Cold.
Instant.
Violent.
Not reckless violence either. Controlled. Focused. The kind that sits under the skin waiting for permission.
And somehow that’s worse.
“You’re staring again,” Rhett says without turning around from the stove.
I lean against the counter, crossing my arms. “You keep saying that like it’s illegal.”
“It’s distracting.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t look so aggressively mountain-man all the time.”
That finally gets a reaction.
His mouth twitches slightly before he glances over his shoulder at me. “Aggressively mountain-man?”
“You literally threatened to break someone’s wrist over my waist.”
“He touched you.”
“He was drunk.”
“He was stupid.”
I exhale sharply, fighting the ridiculous heat crawling up my neck. “You can’t just assault people every time a man looks at me.”
His gaze slides over me slowly, deliberate enough that my stomach tightens instantly.
“Looking isn’t the problem.”
God.
The man should come with a warning label.
Outside, wind rattles against the cabin hard enough to shake the windows. Rhett checks them automatically before returning to the stove, his movements easy and practiced.
Everything about him feels practiced.
The awareness.
The control.
The constant readiness.
“You do that all the time,” I say quietly.
He glances back. “Do what?”
“Check exits. Windows. Doors.” I tilt my head slightly. “You track every sound outside too.”
“That bothers you?”
“No.” I hesitate. “It just seems exhausting.”
Something shifts briefly in his expression.
“It’s habit.”
“Military?”
“Before that.”
The answer catches my attention immediately.
Rhett doesn’t volunteer information. Every personal detail I’ve gotten out of him so far has been dragged out through arguments and irritation.
Now he’s giving it to me willingly.
I straighten slightly. “Before that?”
He kills the burner and turns toward me slowly, folding his arms across his chest. “My father drank too much.”
There’s no emotion in the words.
Which somehow makes them hit harder.
“He get violent?” I ask carefully.
Rhett’s jaw tightens once before he nods.
The kitchen suddenly feels smaller.
“When I was a kid, I used to hide under my bed when they fought.” His voice stays calm, steady, but there’s something rough underneath it now. “My sister would crawl under there with me. She was six the first time he hit our mother bad enough to split her lip.”
Jesus.
I swallow hard, watching him carefully.
“She’d curl up against me and cry herself to sleep while they screamed at each other down the hall.” His gaze drifts briefly toward the storm outside. “After a while, I stopped being scared of him.”