Page 32 of Mountain Defender

She looks uncomfortable.

Twin spots of red are high on her cheeks.

Her teeth dig little divots into her lower lip.

Her shoulders are slumped in something that looks a lot like defeat.

It doesn’t add up.

Then I notice something else.

While Max is still talking, rattling on about the dogs feeding schedule and how many times he took them out to play, Rory keeps playing with her hair, tugging it over her forehead.

If it happened once or twice, I wouldn’t think anything of it. Women play with their hair all the time. But this… it’s different. Almost a nervous twitch.

Is she scared, after all?

Is she trying to hide the bruise on her forehead? Is she feeling self-conscious about it like she did in the hospital?

But then why is she trying to cover the other side?

Yes, there’s a scar there—an old one, slightly raised and faded to a pale pink—that matches the one on her jaw. But I barely notice them anymore. I never think of Rory’s scars as anything to be self conscious about. Not when she’s so beautiful, with those expressive green eyes and delicate features and gorgeous smile.

I’ve seen a lot of women in my thirty-eight years, and Rory is by far the most stunning.

I don’t know how she got the scars. And it would be pretty hypocritical of me to ask, considering I’ve been hiding my prosthetic from her for the last six months. But she never seems self-conscious around me, so I assumed she was okay with her scars.

Maybe she’s not?

Maybe she’s insecure, even though she has no reason to be?

“Since you’re here, would you mind if I ran back to the shop for a half-hour or so?” Max asks. “I just want to make sure everything’s running smoothly. I’ve got Davis there, and he’s a good kid, but not real experienced. And he’s working on Mrs. Adamson’s Caddy, so I’d like to check his work before we call her to pick it up.”

“Of course.” Before I realize what I’m doing, I sidle up next to Rory and put my arm around her. She freezes and I think,oh shit, I shouldn’t have touched her,but a moment later she relaxes and leans against me.

Then she rests her head on my shoulder and a giant fist slams into my chest.

This is right.

Holding her.

Comforting her.

Max grins. “Or I could come back later. I’m sure I could come up with some things to do for the next few hours.”

“Do you think?” Rory asks, tilting her head to meet my gaze. “Maybe we could stay longer?”

Dammit.

How can I say no?

“Let’s see how you’re feeling after an hour,” I concede. To Max, I add, “I’ll text you in about forty-five minutes. See how Rory’s doing. That okay?”

Max lifts his chin at me. “Of course.” Then he inclines his head in Rory’s direction. “I’m happy to come back whenever.I always had dogs growing up. This has made me realize how much I missed having one.”

“Thanks, Max,” Rory replies quietly. She raises her chin to look at him steadily. “And if you want to adopt Charlie, just let me know.”

“Will do.” Max nods. Then he turns to head towards his pickup parked just in front of mine. “Text me when you’re ready for me to come back. And if you need me to pick anything up—dog food, treats—just let me know.”