Page 98 of Her Remarkable Protector
38
CHASE
Ethan and Oakley dash through the field, spraying each other with water and laughing loud enough to wake the clouds. Ethan, he’s proven more than just a loyal partner. He managed to put the clues together about The Chapel, from what Oakley remembered. That boy knew far more than we’d given him credit for, redefining what it meant to have ‘insider knowledge.’ And with his Mosaic experience, the missing pieces fell into place in no time.
The Connors have been unbelievably generous, opening their farm to us for an indefinite time. With Ramirez, Ethan, and Honor handling meals like a well-oiled team, it feels less like a refuge and more like a resort—at least for me.
The fresh air and slow days are exactly what I need to recuperate. My hands, once mangled by Damon’s cruelty, are finally starting to feel like they belong to me again. Broken bones have mended—enough for me to function, at least.
I stretch my fingers—good as new. Honor joins me on the grass, away from the commotion, the canopy of a spruce tree casting its shade over us.
She says, “Oak told me he’s going to learn how to make a llama blanket this shearing season.”
“That’s cute,” I reply, looking down at Laramie cradled in my arms. She’s wearing her new llama blanket—her old one is too small now, but she won’t travel anywhere without it. She’s already a little sentimental, just like her mom.
Besides holding my Huckleberry, cradling little Laramie is another thing that I’d missed the most when my hands were weak. At three months old, she’s a tiny bundle of perfection. Her chubby cheeks are slightly pink from the morning sun, and her little fingers curl around my thumb like she never wants to let go.
Honor nudges me. “Would you ever consider running a llama farm?” Her gaze sweeps over the lush green expanse around us.
“Um…would you dump me if I said no?” I angle a playful look at her.
She laughs, punching my arm lightly. “Yeah, not exactly the farmer type, huh?”
“More of a fisherman type,” I counter.
She tilts her head, pretending to think it over. “Fair enough. Nothing wrong with being a fisherman.”
“As a hobby, though.”
She nods. “So, no llama farm, fishing as a hobby, and Red Mark remains your home base?”
“Red Mark’s where I belong, Honor.”
She rests her hand on my cheek. “I know it is, and I couldn’t be prouder.”
Just then, Laramie’s tiny coo bubbles up, as if she’s chiming in on the conversation.
“You agree, huh, Laramie?” Honor says, rubbing her belly and drawing another giggle from our little girl.
I tighten my arm around Honor. “Are you happy for us to keep living in Bozeman?” I ask.
“Of course,” she says without hesitation.
“And not just because of that whole ‘wherever you are, I follow’ thing?”
“Well, that’s definitely part of it,” she admits, her lips quirking into a grin. “But honestly, Bozeman’s great. It feels like home.”
“Even with my uncharming house?”
She tilts her head, considering. “If we can upgrade to a secure house with a bit more soul, then it’ll truly feel like home.”
I smirk. “Fine. I’ll check if Home Depot has soul in stock.”
She laughs, relaxing into the curve of my chest. “So, what’s next for us?” she asks.
I slide my hand over hers and brushing my thumb along her ring finger. The blue diamond catches the sunlight, glinting like a piece of the sky. “Well,” I say, “we get married. I didn’t give you that ring just to have it gather dust.”
She laughs, but her eyes shine with something she’s holding close, like a secret she’s only ready to share with me. “I’ve wanted to marry you since the moment you kneeled in front of me,” she says, her voice filled with fondness. “Not when you proposed, but when you were trembling in pain, telling me how precious I was.”
