Page 4
Story: Her Protector on Route 14
“I can’t speak for all the guys, but I don’t have family. I’d rather be a bit of a nomad and see more,” I answer.
“Basically a cowboy,” she quips.
I roll my eyes, but the corner of my mouth lifts.
“I get it, though. How can you really decide where to live unless you see everything the Country offers? Florida and Tennessee are shockingly different. I’m sure each section of road has different beauty to offer.”
I nod once. “How’d you get into photography?”
She lights up instantly, like I just handed her the perfect question. She tells me about her grandmother—the one who photographed everything—and how, the first time she was handed a camera, it felt like being knighted.
She fills the ride with stories, all warmth and animation, and I realize this is how she shares herself—not through silence or stillness, but through details and laughter. I listen like I’m hearing a favorite book being read aloud. Her voice is steady, soothing—better than anything the radio could offer—and the longer she talks, the more I want her to keep going.
By the time we turn off the highway and roll into Heartstone, there’s a heaviness in my chest I didn’t expect.
I’m going to miss that dimpled smile. The way she smells like fresh cookies. The sound of her voice filling the quiet like it belongs there.
And the ache that thought leaves behind?
Yeah. That surprises me the most.
Chapter 3 - Holly
My throat is dry from talking so much. I keep waiting for Tanner to tell me to be quiet, but he doesn’t. Whenever I stop he motions for me to continue or asks another question about me, my trip, the things I’ve liked most or what I want to see. His questions are always short and to the point, but the fact he’s asking makes me feel vibrant and glowing.
By the time he slows for a single stop light, I realize exactly how long I’ve been speaking for. The sun has set and streetlights glow in a warm yellow light. My gaze slowly slips to Tanner. He looks so big in this truck and lit by the red light ... I’m picturing him popping the buttons on his flannel and doing a body roll like in some TikTok videos I’ve seen.
I lick my bottom lip and force myself to look away. I shouldn’t be thinking about him like this, wondering what it would be like to climb onto his lap, feel his breath across my lips, his tongue dragging along my ear before he says something low and hot while guiding me closer against him.
My whole body buzzes with lust in a way I was sure only existed in movies and books, but there’s more. Because I want to make him laugh. I want to earn that half smile again and again.
Tanner starts to go forward, then a vehicle runs the light and his arm shoots out in front of me, grazing my breasts as he holds me in place. He lets out a soft curse as my heart stutters in my chest. He clears his throat and I realize I’m grabbing my thigh as his arm drops.
“Are you okay?” he asks softly.
“Yeah, fine. I um, I’ve been in cities where people do worse,” I whisper.
His jaw tightens and it ends our conversation. He only speaks again when he pulls into a mechanic shop. “Petyon and Wyatt will take care of your vehicle. They’re the best I know.”
“That’s great. Thank you,” I say.
I feel like a broken record, thanking him over and over. It’s like I’ve forgotten how to talk to an attractive man.
Which is ridiculous. I’m twenty-four—not sixteen. But I haven’t had a real relationship since high school. College came first, then work, and somewhere along the way, dating just… faded out. The few times Ididtry? I was told I was too much. Too sweet. Too naïve. Some guys got irritated when I didn’t sleep with them right away, like basic respect came with a timer.
Tanner probably senses it—maybe not the full story, but enough. The way I stumble over my words, the way I keep fidgeting and thanking him like I’ve never been shown this kind of kindness before.
That must be why he’s being so patient. So gentle.
Even if itfeelslike he’s cast a spell on me… I know he’s just doing his job. Right?
We get out and I glance at the sign reading Miller Car Restoration, then glance at the tow truck unloading my vehicle here. Tanner doesn’t pause until he realizes I’m not followinghim. He glances back at me and waits for me to catch up to him, then walks right to the garage.
A woman with bright red hair is currently wiping her greasy hands on a towel. I blink a few times. She looks like a model when it comes to her face, but her clothing is obviously oversized and her glasses keep slipping down her nose. Her hair is up in a messy bun that she tugs while grumbling.
Tanner clears his throat and she stands up, tossing the rag and adjusting her jeans. “We’re closed.”
“You’re here,” Tanner says, but there’s a teasing tone to his voice and a fondness in his eyes that seems to soften his whole face. “That means you’re open.”
“Basically a cowboy,” she quips.
I roll my eyes, but the corner of my mouth lifts.
“I get it, though. How can you really decide where to live unless you see everything the Country offers? Florida and Tennessee are shockingly different. I’m sure each section of road has different beauty to offer.”
I nod once. “How’d you get into photography?”
She lights up instantly, like I just handed her the perfect question. She tells me about her grandmother—the one who photographed everything—and how, the first time she was handed a camera, it felt like being knighted.
She fills the ride with stories, all warmth and animation, and I realize this is how she shares herself—not through silence or stillness, but through details and laughter. I listen like I’m hearing a favorite book being read aloud. Her voice is steady, soothing—better than anything the radio could offer—and the longer she talks, the more I want her to keep going.
By the time we turn off the highway and roll into Heartstone, there’s a heaviness in my chest I didn’t expect.
I’m going to miss that dimpled smile. The way she smells like fresh cookies. The sound of her voice filling the quiet like it belongs there.
And the ache that thought leaves behind?
Yeah. That surprises me the most.
Chapter 3 - Holly
My throat is dry from talking so much. I keep waiting for Tanner to tell me to be quiet, but he doesn’t. Whenever I stop he motions for me to continue or asks another question about me, my trip, the things I’ve liked most or what I want to see. His questions are always short and to the point, but the fact he’s asking makes me feel vibrant and glowing.
By the time he slows for a single stop light, I realize exactly how long I’ve been speaking for. The sun has set and streetlights glow in a warm yellow light. My gaze slowly slips to Tanner. He looks so big in this truck and lit by the red light ... I’m picturing him popping the buttons on his flannel and doing a body roll like in some TikTok videos I’ve seen.
I lick my bottom lip and force myself to look away. I shouldn’t be thinking about him like this, wondering what it would be like to climb onto his lap, feel his breath across my lips, his tongue dragging along my ear before he says something low and hot while guiding me closer against him.
My whole body buzzes with lust in a way I was sure only existed in movies and books, but there’s more. Because I want to make him laugh. I want to earn that half smile again and again.
Tanner starts to go forward, then a vehicle runs the light and his arm shoots out in front of me, grazing my breasts as he holds me in place. He lets out a soft curse as my heart stutters in my chest. He clears his throat and I realize I’m grabbing my thigh as his arm drops.
“Are you okay?” he asks softly.
“Yeah, fine. I um, I’ve been in cities where people do worse,” I whisper.
His jaw tightens and it ends our conversation. He only speaks again when he pulls into a mechanic shop. “Petyon and Wyatt will take care of your vehicle. They’re the best I know.”
“That’s great. Thank you,” I say.
I feel like a broken record, thanking him over and over. It’s like I’ve forgotten how to talk to an attractive man.
Which is ridiculous. I’m twenty-four—not sixteen. But I haven’t had a real relationship since high school. College came first, then work, and somewhere along the way, dating just… faded out. The few times Ididtry? I was told I was too much. Too sweet. Too naïve. Some guys got irritated when I didn’t sleep with them right away, like basic respect came with a timer.
Tanner probably senses it—maybe not the full story, but enough. The way I stumble over my words, the way I keep fidgeting and thanking him like I’ve never been shown this kind of kindness before.
That must be why he’s being so patient. So gentle.
Even if itfeelslike he’s cast a spell on me… I know he’s just doing his job. Right?
We get out and I glance at the sign reading Miller Car Restoration, then glance at the tow truck unloading my vehicle here. Tanner doesn’t pause until he realizes I’m not followinghim. He glances back at me and waits for me to catch up to him, then walks right to the garage.
A woman with bright red hair is currently wiping her greasy hands on a towel. I blink a few times. She looks like a model when it comes to her face, but her clothing is obviously oversized and her glasses keep slipping down her nose. Her hair is up in a messy bun that she tugs while grumbling.
Tanner clears his throat and she stands up, tossing the rag and adjusting her jeans. “We’re closed.”
“You’re here,” Tanner says, but there’s a teasing tone to his voice and a fondness in his eyes that seems to soften his whole face. “That means you’re open.”