Page 49 of Her Remarkable Protector
“Delegated,” he corrects, leaning back like he just won the argument.
We’re both laughing when his phone rings, slicing through the moment like an unwelcome guest.
Chase grabs it and steps into the other room. The faint murmur of his voice carries back, nothing like the laid-back man who was just joking about honey and batter. When he returns, the lightness is gone. There’s a tension in his eyes that pulls me upright.
“What is it?” I ask, already bracing for whatever comes next.
“Mira Stone is bringing the big gun,” he says grimly.
“You mean…” My breath catches.
“Yeah.” He pauses, his gaze locking with mine. “Damon’s with her. They’re at the Red Mark office. I need to get there now.”
The name feels like a punch to the gut, robbing me of the warmth I’d just started to let myself feel. My fork clatters to the table as I stand and follow him into his bedroom like a panicked duckling.
“I’m coming with you,” I say, hovering in the doorway as he grabs a tie from his closet.
“No.” Chase shakes his head, slipping the tie on as he walks, not even glancing at a mirror. “You stay here with Laramie. I’ll send Hux to keep an eye on you.”
I narrow my eyes. “So, what? I just sit here and wait?”
His lips twitch into a faint smile as he reaches for the jacket draped over his study chair. “You can thank him yourself.” He shrugs it on, the tension doing nothing to drop his irresistibility score—not that he’d ever need a filter for it. “Maybe even pick up a thing or two.”
“Great,” I mutter. “Can’t wait for the life lessons.”
Chase chuckles but doesn’t linger. He’s pulling gear together with the kind of precision that makes me realize just how serious this is.
“Be careful, Chase.” My voice betrays more emotion than I intend. It’s not just about needing him anymore. I don’t want him hurt—not for me, not for anyone.
He pauses, his hand resting briefly on my shoulder. I can feel the unspoken words between us. He leans in slightly, like he might kiss the top of my head, but he doesn’t. That restraint of his—it’s maddening and admirable all at once.
“Don’t open the door for anyone,” he warns. “If they don’t know the code, they’re not coming in. Understood?”
I nod. “So, Huxley knows the code?”
“Yeah. He does.” Chase grabs his keys. “Don’t be alarmed by the scar on his face. He’s as gentle as a Red Mark can be.”
“Got it,” I say again, and just like that, he’s gone. The quiet he leaves behind feels heavier than I expected.
I pick up my phone and call Oakley. It’s partly to check in on how he’s doing, but also to make sure nothing out of the ordinary is happening on his end.
“Hey, Oak,” I say when he picks up. “How is it going?”
“Yeah, I’m solid,” he says, his tone light and casual—a far cry from the angry kid who bolted with Rollo. “Ethan’s chill, you know? And his brother, Noah—he’s my age. We’ve been kicking it.”
“That’s good to hear,” I say, encouraged by his tone. “And Ethan’s parents?”
“Mark and Ivy? They’re solid. Ivy’s strict, but it’s not, like, over the top or anything. And Mark? He’s super chill, easy to talk to. And the llamas? Seriously, who has llamas? When Ethan said ‘farm,’ I was thinking cows and horses.”
I shake my head, imagining his confusion.
“Oh, and their dog, Jasper,” he continues, sounding more animated. “He’s a Great Dane—totally wild but, like, the best dog ever. Honor, I’m not kidding. He’s massive! Like, the size of a freaking horse.”
“A Great Dane on a llama farm?” I chuckle. “That sounds like a recipe for chaos.”
“It is, but it’s fun. The llamas don’t even care about Jasper; they just do their thing.”
“Sounds like I’m missing out on all the action. Though, I’m not exactly dying to wrestle with manure and llama spit,” I say.
