Jenna Kernan - The Warrior's Way

“They don’t?” Sophia asked.

Jack shook his head. “Nope.”

“But why? They are clearly in love.”

“Because to marry her is to give Meadow federal protection from the local wants and warrants regarding the wildfire. Meadow won’t have the people thinking she married Dylan for that reason. Someday, she will marry him. When the matter is settled.”

“That could be years.” Sophia looked at the dark lodge. Beyond the window Sophia thought that Meadow must be preparing to sleep in her empty bed. “It could be never.”

“Her choice,” said Jack. “And a difficult one. But one that has earned her much respect here.”

Sophia returned her gaze to Jack, taking in the readiness of his stance and the way he was now angled away from his cabin and toward hers.

“I was hoping you would join us,” he said.

“I did not want to intrude.”

“We want you here, Sophia. Everyone. And they want to meet you.”

“I won’t be here that long.”

He nodded. “More reason.”

“You want to sit awhile?” He motioned to the bench beneath the single window on his porch.

Sophia knew with certainty what would happen if she crossed the distance between them. It wouldn’t be sitting.

“Detective Bear Den, I want you to know that I’m not in a relationship at present.”

His brows lifted at this change of direction.

“By choice. I like men, I just don’t like them encroaching, you know, on my space. I need privacy.”

“I wouldn’t think I’d be encroaching for long. Like you said, you’re leaving.”

“Yes.”

“Just as well. I need my space, too.”

She was so tempted to walk right over to him and lace her hands behind his neck and kiss him with everything she had. That’s what she wanted. But it wasn’t wise.

“I’m not getting mixed up with you,” she said, narrowing her eyes at him.

He walked to her porch, placing one large foot on the bottom step as he gripped the rail and broke into her personal space.

“If you say so.”

She backed toward her door.

“If you change your mind on the encroachment thing, you know where to find me.”

Men were like that, just like stray cats. But they didn’t stay. Not for long, and a woman who was wise knew to take care of herself. Relying on a man was a lot like working with explosives. You kept clear if you could and if you couldn’t you wore protective gear.

“Good night, Detective.”

“Good night, Agent Rivas.” He followed her with his eyes. “Did you hear me singing to you?”

She had—his voice was low and deep and distinctive. He’d sung one full song alone. It had made her insides ache.

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