Page 72 of Her Remarkable Protector
“All right then, two words for you.” He pauses for dramatic effect, his grin widening. “Santa Sophia.”
“Finally!” I say, sitting up straighter, hoping the place that’s been under wraps for so long just houses the two of us, no spectators, no third party. “What is it? Where is it?”
“It’s my boat,” he says, the pride in his voice unmistakable. “It used to be my dad’s. I sailed around the world with it after I left the Navy. Mom loves it too, but she’s happy to let us have it for a few days.”
A boat. Just us. My mind runs wild at the thought, but I refuse to give him the satisfaction of seeing how much it excites me. “Well then,” I say coolly, “surprise me.”
Chase stands and takes my hand, pulling me to my feet. His hands slide to my hips, holding me with an ease that feels natural, inevitable.
“Let’s get out of here,” he murmurs, his lips grazing the curve of my ear. Then his mouth claims mine, slow and sure, a kiss that doesn’t ask—it declares.
By the time he pulls back, his eyes holding mine, I realize: this man isn’t just hoping I’ll love him—he’s showing me why I already might.
26
CHASE
Honor covers little Laramie in what feels like endless kisses. I smile at my Huckleberry. Can’t blame her, this is the first time she will be apart from her daughter.
“She’ll be fine,” my mother assures Honor, cradling Laramie in her arm. I swear the little girl is probably ready to call her Grandma.
As Honor walks toward me, she glances at my old SEAL mate.
“Don’t take your eyes off them,” I tell Buck. He’s standing in as my double, keeping watch while I give Honor the final surprise of our getaway.
“I’ve got ya, Chief,” he replies.
We drive to the marina, the crisp scent of salt and ocean filling the air. At the dock, I sweep my arm toward the thirty-foot yacht glinting in the sun.
“There she is. Santa Sophia,” I call out. My chest swells a little. It’s not just a boat—it’s part of my life, part of my family.
Honor takes a moment, her eyes trailing the sleek lines of the hull and the polished wood of the deck. “It’s magnificent,” she says, a genuine smile lighting her face. “It looks like it’s brand new.”
“Mom keeps it in top shape,” I reply, leading her down the dock. “She takes it out to Catalina sometimes, or even down to Mexico. But today, it’s ours.” I hop aboard and start unloading our bags, stowing them neatly. “Ready?”
She nods. “Yeah.”
I start untying the stern line, looping it loose from the cleat. The sun’s warm on my back as I move methodically, my hands steady from years of doing this. Behind me, Honor watches, her arms crossed but not impatient.
“Need help?” she asks, her tone casual but her expression far from it.
“I’ve got it,” I say over my shoulder, tugging at the bowline. But she doesn’t back off.
“Come on. I can do more than stand around looking pretty,” she insists, stepping closer.
I sigh, half-amused, half-reluctant. “Fine. Take that fender and stow it.”
She doesn’t ask where; she just grabs it and secures it with practiced ease. Then, before I can stop her, she moves to the port line and begins coiling it. I pause mid-motion, watching her work.
“Why do I get the feeling you’ve done this before?” I tease, a grin tugging at the corner of my mouth.
She glances up, her expression coy. “Don’t be silly. This is my first time outside Montana. And we all know Montana isn’t exactly known for its coastline.”
There’s something in her smile—something faintly guarded—but I let it slide. There’s a story there, no doubt, but I’m not about to push and ruin this moment.
I refocus on the task at hand. The last line comes free, and I fire up the engine. With a grin, I tap the helm.Hello, princess.
We ease out of the marina. The water stretches ahead of us, open and inviting. Santa Sophia slices through the waves with an effortless grace.
