Page 125 of Falling for the Grumpiest Protector

"They also don't criticize."

"Ranger absolutely criticizes."

I can't argue with that.

The morning is bright and cool, carrying the first hint of fall. Beyond the equipment shed, a couple of veterans are repairing fencing. Someone is unloading feed near the barn. Atlas is stretched out in a patch of sun several feet away, apparently supervising all of us.

Javier has been everywhere except here.

I saw him briefly when I arrived. He'd been coming out of the main building with a clipboard in one hand and coffee in the other. Our eyes met. His smile came immediately. So did mine. Then one of the guys called for him from across the yard, and he pointed at me with the coffee cup.

"Don't leave."

"I wasn't planning to."

"Good."

That was twenty minutes ago. I'm still smiling about it. Dangerous. Definitely dangerous.

My phone buzzes in my back pocket. For one stupid second, I hope it's Javier. It's Julian.

Call me when you have a minute. We really need to talk.

The warmth in my chest dims a little. I stare at the message. The really is new. Julian doesn't use words he doesn't mean. I know exactly what conversation he's trying to have, the one I've been avoiding since I came back to Oakridge. I slide the phone back into my pocket.

Not now.

That isn't an answer. And Julian isn't going to let me keep avoiding one forever.

"Maddy?"

I look down. Jack has stopped working. "What?"

"You stopped holding the bracket."

"Oh." I reposition it. "Sorry."

He gives me a look but wisely says nothing.

A car turns onto the farm road. I glance over automatically. Dark blue sedan, out-of-state plates. It slows near the main building, then pulls into one of the visitor spaces.

Jack keeps working. I don't.

Because Javier is standing at the edge of the parking lot. Waiting. Something about that catches my attention. He isn't holding a clipboard anymore. No coffee. No conversation with one of the veterans. He's simply standing there, hands at his sides, watching the car. Like he knows exactly who's inside.

The driver's door opens.

A woman gets out. She's probably somewhere around Javier's age. Dark blond hair cut just past her shoulders. Jeans, boots, cream sweater beneath a navy coat. Pretty. But that's not what makes me keep looking.

It's Javier. He hasn't moved. Neither has she.

For a moment, they just stare at each other across the few feet between them. Then the woman closes the car door. Javier says something I can't hear. She answers. There is no hug. No smile. Still, there's something between them. History. You can see history even when you don't understand it.

"Jack."

"Hmm?"

"Who's that?"