The Protector (Game of Chance, #1)(34)

“It’s not going well?” Riggs asked.

Carlise jerked in surprise and looked at him. “What?”

“You’re sitting there staring at the screen and not typing. Is the translation not going well?”

Carlise felt her cheeks get hot. Shit. She’d been daydreaming about living with the man next to her instead of working. “No. It’s fine. I mean . . . I’m just thinking.”

“About?”

Yeah, there was no way she was going to tell him the truth. That she’d dreamed up a full-blown fantasy about greeting him when he got home and the two of them falling into bed together. “Just life. What I’m going to do next now that the storm has stopped.”

“Well, there’s no rush. It’ll still be quite a while before we’re able to get out of here safely. It’s not as if the plows come out this way. JJ will see what he can do, but the priority will be the main roads.”

Carlise couldn’t tell if Riggs was upset that he was going to be trapped here for a while longer or not. “I know you weren’t expecting a houseguest—” she started, but Riggs immediately interrupted.

“I wasn’t. But I’m not upset that you’re here, Carlise. Maybe if you were a bitch, if you complained about the lack of electricity, about how we’re in the middle of nowhere, or were a general pain in the ass, I might be. But I think you fit here perfectly.”

His words settled into her soul. “I actually love the peacefulness out here.”

“Me too. Although I don’t think I could live here full time,” he said with a shrug. “I mean, I love coming out here to recharge, to reconnect with nature, to get away from annoying people. But eventually, I miss being able to pop down to the grocery store to grab something I need or to get a fast-food hamburger or something.”

“They have fast food in Newton?” she teased.

Riggs grinned. “Better. Granny’s Burgers,” he said. “It’s a hole-in-the-wall, family-owned restaurant, and they make the best burgers I’ve ever tasted. And french fries. Lord, they’re so good.”

Carlise grinned.

“Anyway, I’m just sayin’, I love this cabin, but Little House on the Prairie isn’t the life I want full time.”

“What do you know about Little House on the Prairie?” she asked.

Suddenly, a tinge of red filled his cheeks. “I told you I like to read,” he said a little sheepishly.

“You’ve read the books?”

“Yeah. I was only going to read one . . . but they sucked me in. I couldn’t stop. I love a good series.”

“Me too,” she told him.

“Authors are cruel, making us love all the characters they dream up. It’s usually impossible not to pick up the next book in a series.”

“Right? And when they introduce a character in book one that we have to have a story for, only to learn we don’t get it until book eight? So mean,” Carlise agreed.

Riggs chuckled. “Anyway, I was just sayin’ that while I love it out here, I have no plans to make this my permanent residence.”

Carlise stared at him for a long moment. Eventually, she nodded.

“Right, I’ll stop talking now so you can get some work done. You want to set up at the table? Will that make it easier?”

“No. I’m good here. Thanks, though.”

“Okay. If you need anything, let me know.”

Carlise nodded again and watched as Riggs looked back down at the book in his hand. She took a deep breath. She needed to get some work done. She wasn’t behind, yet, but she would be if she took too many days off.

Thankfully, she was soon engrossed in the story, and the translation began to come fairly quickly. It was always easier when she enjoyed the book she was translating. Luckily, she wasn’t too picky and loved reading just about every genre, so disliking a story didn’t happen very often.

The familiarity of her job kicked in, and Carlise lost herself in making the French words sound seamless and just as meaningful in English.



Chappy couldn’t keep his gaze from straying to Carlise. He had no idea what he was reading, hadn’t turned a page in quite a while. He was too fascinated by the woman next to him. It had taken her a while to start working, but now that she had, she made him smile.

She’d frown, furrow her brow, type a few words, tilt her head as she thought, then type once more. The process of translating a foreign book into English was incredibly interesting. And the woman doing it even more so.

He wondered what she’d been thinking about so hard before focusing on her work. Yes, he’d surreptitiously watched her then, too . . . and he’d seen so many emotions flit over her face. The more he was around her, the more he wanted to get inside her head.

Chappy certainly didn’t want her to feel as if she was invading his space, and it was clear she was worried about just that. He liked having her there. Was so damn relieved and grateful to Baxter for leading him to the stranger walking on the road. The alternative made him feel physically sick all over again. Her body would’ve been buried in the snow by now. He never would’ve seen her smile. Heard her laugh. Seen her compassion toward Baxter or himself.

The world would’ve been a dimmer place without her in it.

Never knowing her seemed impossible now. He felt as if he’d known her for years. He would’ve definitely missed out if she hadn’t stumbled into his life.