2
Nora Bennett
The new owners of the Last Stand Tavern were... Large, loud, muscular, unreasonably handsome — and completely terrible for my peace and quiet.
The moment they arrived, the noise level on Main Street jumped from “small-town hum” to “military parade.” It wasn’t their fault, I told myself. New people always caused a stir in Eagle River. But seven handsome, intimidating soldiers arriving at once? I’ve lived in this town for three years, and I love it here. I liked it just the way it was.
The Magnolia Ladies practically formed a parade.
I clutched my stack of books tighter and peeked out the library window again.
They were all still there—leaning against truck doors, hauling duffels, looking like they’d stepped out of an action movie and wandered into the wrong set.
And then there was…
him.
Tall. Broad shoulders. Dark blonde hair. A jaw sharp enough to slice paper. He didn’t smile like the others. Didn’t joke. Didn’t move much at all.
Just stood there like a silent storm cloud.
And then—
he looked at me.
Straight through the window.
Straight at me.
My breath caught so hard I almost choked on it.
I ducked behind a bookshelf so fast I smacked my shin on the cart.
“Smooth, Nora,” I muttered, rubbing my leg.
The library was silent again—my comfort zone. But my heart was pounding like I’d run a marathon. I paced toward the circulation desk, pretending to organize the return bin while absolutely not thinking about the giant soldier staring at me.
Nope. Not thinking about him at all.
I lasted ten minutes.
Just ten quiet, blissful minutes before the noise started.
Laughter.
Boots on wood.
The metallic clank of construction.
My eye twitched.
I marched out the library door, across the street, up the tavern steps, and pushed the door open.
Seven Rangers froze mid-conversation.
Seven sets of eyes locked on me.
And I immediately regretted all my life choices.
