Page 102 of Protecting What's Mine

“Did you two cowboys have fun man-talking about how to protect the poor, frail womenfolk?” Mack asked, batting her lashes at him over her chicken salad.

“You’re in a walking boot. You can’t outrun a threat,” he started.

“What makes you think I’d run away?” she shot back.

This was why he’d done what he’d done today. And why he’d be perusing new door locks tonight.

“Let’s argue about this tonight when we’re naked,” he said.

“Sex fighting? Hmm. I like it,” she mused.

Sophie came out from behind the bar.

“Hey there, beautiful,” Ty said, sliding an arm around her shoulder and pulling her into his side.

She sparkled up at him. “Guess who doesn’t have any kids tonight because my parents are keeping them overnight and just got kicked off the bar early?”

“Does she also have two thumbs, and can she do that weirdly wonderful thing with her tongue?” he asked.

Laughing, Sophie threw her arms around his neck. “Let’s dance, sheriff.”

“Yes, ma’am!”

Linc watched them go. A feeling settling over him like a blanket. He wanted that. The wife. The partner. The history of old pain and inside jokes and good memories. He wanted the whole package.

And Dr. Mackenzie O’Neil was the first woman in his life that he could picture having it all with.

He brushed a finger over the scrape on his jaw he’d earned that morning. Yeah, he was in for a bumpy ride.

They called it a night, and Linc insisted on following her home.

“I’m coming over to your house. You don’t have to shadow me,” Mack complained.

“Maybe I want to see if Gloria dropped off any more pies?”

“Or you think you’re going to find a Kersh lurking in my closet?”

“Nah. Your closet’s too small. I was thinking maybe the basement.”

“I was in the military, Linc. I know how to defend myself,” she said dryly.

“Me wanting to make sure you don’thaveto defend yourself in no way implies that I don’t think youcanhandle yourself. If you had two good feet, I’d feel sorry for someone who tried to hide in your basement.”

That seemed to appease her.

He parked on the street and walked to the door with her.

“You’re being ridiculous,” she complained.

“I prefer to think of it as chivalrous and charming.”

She let them in and switched on the living room lights.

“I’m coming back here tonight,” she insisted, stowing her purse and her med bag precisely by the front door.

There were better ways around resistance than butting heads. And Linc could be very persuasive when he wanted to be.

“You say that now,” he said, prowling into the dining room, then poking his head into the kitchen. “But when you get into that big, luxurious bed, when you see the body jets in the shower, you’re going to cry. And then I’m going to feel sorry for you. And I hate feeling sorry for beautiful doctors.”