I hop onto the stool. My legs swing a little because they don’t quite reach the floor. Jax watches me with this intense protective gaze that makes me feel seen. Really seen. Not just the librarian who witnessed a cartel deal. But me. Ava who organizes books by mood.
I drizzle syrup over the waffles. The first bite is pure heaven. Warm. Sweet. Perfectly cooked. A happy little moan escapes me before I can stop it. "Oh wow. These are incredible. You’re now officially my favorite US Marshal. Not that I’ve met many. But still. Top of the list."
His eyes darken as he watches me eat. He leans against the counter. Arms crossed over that powerful chest. "Good. I plan on staying there." The possessiveness in his voice sends heat curling low in my belly. I duck my head and take another bite to hide my blush.
We eat in companionable silence for a few minutes. Every time our eyes meet that spark jumps higher. I steal glances at him between bites. The way his hands look so strong yet gentle with the coffee mug. The scar on his jaw that I want to trace with my finger. The way he keeps positioning himself between me and the door like he’s ready for anything.
This connection feels instant. Like we’ve known each other longer than one terrifying day. Like my heart already recognizes his as the one that’ll keep it safe.
After a while I set my fork down. My fingers twist in my cardigan sleeves. "So... what do we have planned today Marshal Hartman? Snowshoeing? Board games? Witness protection charades? I’m surprisingly good at dramatic readings of ingredient labels if we get bored."
Jax sets his plate aside. He crosses the space between us in two powerful strides and stops right in front of my stool. Towering. Solid. His hand comes up to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. The touch is gentle but his eyes burn with a feral intensity I can’t ignore. "Keeping you alive, Ava. That’s the plan. Every minute of every day until this threat is over."
The words settle over me like a warm blanket and a thrilling promise all at once. My breath catches. "Keeping me alive," I repeat softly. My voice goes all shy and whispery. "I like the sound of that. Especially when you say it like that. All growly and protective. It makes me feel... safe."
His thumb brushes my cheek. Just once. But it leaves a trail of heat. "Good. Because you are safe with me."
I bite my lip. Shyness wars with the growing warmth between us. My brain supplies an entire montage of us sharing thiscabin. Stolen glances. Heated touches. Slow burn turning into something scorching. But the sensible librarian part reminds me there are dangerous men out there who want me gone.
Still. With Jax looking at me like I’m the hottest woman he’s ever protected I can’t help the hopeful sparkle that bubbles up. "Thank you for the waffles. And for last night. And for... everything. I know this is your job but it feels like more already. Is that weird? Probably weird. I read too many books."
"Not weird." His voice drops lower. Rougher. "This stopped feeling like just a job the second I saw you in that library. Now eat another waffle. You’re going to need your strength. I’m checking the perimeter but I’ll be close."
He leans in. For a heartbeat I think he might kiss me. My eyes flutter half closed. Instead his lips brush my forehead in a protective promise that makes my toes curl in my fuzzy socks. Then he steps back. Grabs his jacket. And heads for the door with that powerful stride that screams alpha protector.
I watch him go. Heart racing. Cheeks warm. Already counting the minutes until he comes back inside to this little world that’s just us. One cabin. One bed. And a connection that feels like it was written in the stars. Or at least in one of my favorite romance novels.
I finish my waffles with a dreamy little sigh. Life threatening cartel drama aside. Waking up to Jax Hartman making breakfast might be the best plot twist ever.
4
Jax
The cold mountain air bites at my face as I finish my perimeter check. Snow crunches under my boots with every step. The woods around the cabin stand silent except for the occasional groan of branches under fresh powder. No tracks. No signs of movement. Just white wilderness stretching for miles. Good. It buys us time. But time alone with Ava is becoming its own kind of danger.
I step back inside and stomp the snow from my boots. The warmth of the cabin hits me immediately. She sits at the counter finishing her waffles. Those fuzzy socks swing gently as her legs dangle from the stool. Her cheeks still carry a soft pink flush from our earlier conversation. She looks up at me with those big bright eyes full of that quirky sparkle. Innocent. Trusting. Too good for a man like me.
I’ve seen too much shit in this world. Blood and betrayal and the kind of evil that strips away any hope of a normal life. Happily ever afters are for people who haven’t waded through the darkness I have. I don’t deserve soft mornings with wafflesor a woman like Ava who makes my chest tighten every time she smiles. I sure as hell can’t push any boundaries with her. She’s my witness. My responsibility. Nothing more.
Even if every cell in my body screams to pull her close and claim her.
"You okay out there?" she asks. Her voice carries that cute lilt that wraps around me like warm honey.
"All clear for now." I hang my jacket and move toward the living area. The space feels smaller every hour we spend in it. One bed. One couch. Her. I need to keep my hands busy and my mind on the job. "We shouldn’t just sit here waiting. I’m going to teach you some self defense moves. Basic stuff. Enough that you can create an opening if you ever need it."
Her eyes widen. She sets her fork down with a little clink. "Self defense? Like. Actual fighting moves? With you? Oh wow. I’m not exactly coordinated. I once tripped over a completely stationary ottoman in the library. But yes. That sounds useful. And kind of exciting in a terrifying way. Like I’m training to be a badass book ninja."
A ghost of a smile tugs at my mouth despite myself. She’s so damn adorable it hurts. I clear my throat and push the coffee table to the side. The wooden legs scrape across the floor. I shove the couch back a few feet to give us room. The open space in front of the wood stove will work. Firelight dances across the walls and casts a warm glow over her as she stands up.
"Come here." My voice comes out rougher than I intend. I position myself in the center of the cleared area. "First thing. Stance. Feet shoulder width apart. Knees slightly bent. You want to stay balanced."
She nods eagerly and mimics me. Her oversized cardigan sleeves slip down her arms as she shifts her weight. Those fuzzy socks look ridiculous and perfect at the same time. I step closer to adjust her posture. My hands hover near her shoulders but I keep them light. Professional. Her warmth radiates through the thin fabric. She loses the cardigan and my breath hitches.
"Good," I mutter. "Now if someone grabs you from the front like this." I demonstrate slowly. My hands close gently around her upper arms. The feel of her soft skin under my palms sends a jolt straight through me. Fuck. She’s so small. So breakable. But this isn’t the time to notice things like that. This is training.
"Use the heel of your palm and strike up under the nose. Hard. It’ll stun them long enough for you to run." I guide her hand through the motion without making full contact. Her breath catches when my fingers brush hers. Heat pools low in my gut. I focus on the lesson. On keeping her alive. Not on how perfectly her body fits near mine.
She practices the strike a few times. Each upward thrust of her palm brings her closer. Her body sways with the movement. I swallow hard and adjust her elbow angle. "Keep your wrist straight. Power comes from your hips. Twist with it."
