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Coming toward me, his gaze locked on mine, a smile curling his mouth, he’s the sexiest man I’ve ever seen. “It’s going to be okay.”

“I know.” I believe him even if I lack the confidence he seems to have.

GRANGER

Dinner is quiet.

Too quiet.

I know Brooke isn’t the bubbly can’t stop talking type, but the silence that hangs over us is heavy—thick—and makes my chest ache with each breath.

It’s been building since I moved her bags into the bedroom next to mine, and I wish I was a man of many words so I could start a conversation that doesn’t feel forced. But I’m not. Small talk always seems pointless to me. I’m a man of action, and talking often feels like a waste of time—stalling at best.

Maybe it’s the situation keeping Brooke quiet. It can’t have been nice to realize your options are getting more and more limited. And while she agreed to stay with me, if her ex hadn’t trashed her car, she wouldn’t be here.

And honestly, I’m not her only option for protection. Unfortunately, I did what I usually do, saw a problem and moved to fix it. Pushed until I got what I wanted—what I thought was best. Which brings an unsettling thought. Am I any better than the prick stalking her?

Suddenly I have words. “You don’t have to stay here. We can find⁠—”

“No!” Her gaze meets mine for the first time since I left her in her room to unpack. “I’m sorry. I know I’m being quiet but it’s not being here…well, it is. But not for the reason you think.”

“Okay.” I wait for her to continue. I know she’s a thinker—we have that in common—and I don’t want to lead this conversation. She obviously has things on her mind other than being forced to move in with me, and if I’ve got any hope of her confiding in me, I have to let her do it at her own pace.

“He’s no longer just affecting me. He attacked my car at the Lodge. That’s going to bring unwanted attention, and guests might cancel and not come⁠—”

I put my fork down hard. “Don’t take that on.”

“Oh, I’m not. I know that’s not really on me even though I’m the target. To be honest, I’m actually getting angry.”

I chuckle. “It’s a very quiet anger.”

“Don’t they say it’s the quiet ones you have to watch out for?”

Grinning, I reach for my water. “Yes, they do.”

“What do you think he used on my car?”

“Don’t want to think about it.” The change of subject doesn’t surprise me. Lowering my glass, I make sure her gaze is on mine when I say, “I don’t want to think about it because as soon as I do, the thought of him using whatever it was on you keeps popping into my head.”

She jerks in her seat, her mouth opening as though she might be about to deny the possibility.

“Don’t say he wouldn’t. He already left bruises on you.” My jaw aches with how tightly I’m holding back my anger. “I hate that.”

“I wasn’t too happy about it either.” Frowning, she looks away before bringing her gaze back to mine. “I’m taking lessons. With Michelle.”

“Lessons?” I lean forward, push my plate to the side, and rest my forearms on the table as the conversation I had with Asha runs through my head. Michelle Hogan is a master at several martial arts and self defense.

“Self defense.” Brooke licks her lips. Swallows. I can see uncertainty in her eyes but she doesn’t look away. “I want to be able to protect myself next time.”

“There won’t be a next time.” The growled words grind between my teeth.

“You can’t guarantee that.”

“I can—” At her arched brow, I shake my head. “Okay. Fine. I can’t guarantee it one hundred percent, but I can, and will, make it ninety-nine point nine percent impossible for him to get to you in a way you would be forced to use any of the techniques Michelle is teaching you.”

“I used one last time.”

“What?” My stomach drops. “When?”