Protector (Copper Mesa Eagles Book 3) by Roxie Noir, Amelie Hunt Page A

inside her again, hard and sharp.
    I am not backing down , she thought. We’ll figure this out, and then life will go back to normal.
    She looked at Garrett, filling the pot with water in his sink. Even though he was just wearing a black t-shirt and jeans, he looked good standing at his kitchen sink, the curves of his muscles just below the fabric. The way he had dimples when he smiled.
    Maybe when this is over we can actually go on that dinner date , she thought.
    “Let’s take a break from this,” Garrett finally said, pouring salt into the water. “We’ll just have dinner and not think about all this for an hour, and then we’ll get back to it, fresh.”
    He leaned against the counter across the kitchen from her and flashed his dimples again.
    “You’re right,” Ellie said, and stood.
    “You like pasta?” he asked.
    “I do,” she said.
    “Well, tonight you get the Garrett Monson Special,” he said. “Pasta, olive oil, garlic, and a bunch of whatever vegetables I’ve got in the fridge right now. And an egg on top, if I’ve got eggs.”
    “If you gave it a French name you could sell it for sixteen dollars,” Ellie said.
    Garrett laughed.
    “Consider this a freebie, then,” he said. “I’m taking you to dinner, finally.”
    “Hey, you’re still a client,” Ellie said. “I don’t fraternize with clients.”
    “Oh, come on,” Garrett said. “You’re in my apartment. You saw my weird wall with red string.”
    “You’re still paying me,” Ellie said.
    “Okay, fine,” Garrett teased. “I’m just making you dinner, not taking you to dinner. That make it better?”
    “More cooking, less talking,” Ellie teased back.
    “I’m already barefoot in the kitchen,” Garrett said. “What more do you want?”
    Ellie just laughed. She had to do something to cover up the wonderful, squishy way that Garrett made her feel inside.

    * * *

    When they were finished eating, she leaned back in her chair and pushed her plate away.
    “That was actually really good,” she said.
    “You doubted my cooking?” Garrett asked.
    “Not your cooking, exactly,” Ellie said. “But you’re a bachelor who sublets apartments for a few months at a time, so I wasn’t super confident, either.”
    “So you stereotyped me,” he said, putting his empty fork on his plate. “And look where it got you.”
    Ellie rolled her eyes.
    “Quit it,” she said. “I know plenty of guys who’re wonderful cooks. My brother makes the world’s best cupcakes, and my sister-in-law burns toast.”
    “Older or younger?” Garrett asked.
    “Older,” she said. “Just the two of us.”
    Garrett nodded, and for a moment, his face went blank. Ellie screwed up her courage.
    “Look, Garrett, I’m not sure it’s any of my business, but since this is specifically about your family...” she said, trailing off.
    How the hell do I phrase this? she thought.
    “Why haven’t I talked to my brothers in years and years?” he asked, filling in the blanks for her.
    “Right,” Ellie said.
    Garrett took both the plates, stacked them, and pushed them away.
    “There’s not a good reason,” he said. “Just a lot of little, stupid things, and they don’t add up to a real reason.”
    He stared at the tabletop, tapped it once with his fingers.
    “I always hated Obsidian,” he said. “God, I hated that place. It was in the middle of nowhere. Two hours from the closest grocery store, and it was beautiful, but when you’re a kid you don’t want scenery, you want something to do .”
    “I felt that way about Grand Junction all the time, and we’ve got four grocery stores,” Ellie said.
    “Ever since I could remember, I just wanted out ,” he went on. “I got really good grades, I played football in school, and even as a freshman I started looking for scholarships, anything that would let me leave Obsidian. And then my parents died.”
    “And you couldn’t leave anymore,” Ellie said.
    “I mean, how could I?” Garrett asked.