Rugged Defender. B.J. Daniels

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Chapter Five

       Chapter Six

       Chapter Seven

       Chapter Eight

       Chapter Nine

       Chapter Ten

       Chapter Eleven

       Chapter Twelve

       Chapter Thirteen

       Chapter Fourteen

       Chapter Fifteen

       Chapter Sixteen

       Chapter Seventeen

       Chapter Eighteen

       Chapter Nineteen

       Chapter Twenty

       Chapter Twenty-One

       Chapter Twenty-Two

       Epilogue

       Extract

       About the Publisher

       Chapter One

      It all began with a kiss. At least that’s the way Chloe Clementine remembered it. A winter kiss, which is nothing like a summer one. The cold, icy air around you. Puffs of white breaths intermingling. Warm lips touching, tingling as they meet for the very first time.

      Chloe thought that kiss would be the last thing she remembered before she died of old age. It was the kiss—and the cowboy who’d kissed her—that she’d been dreaming about when her phone rang. Being in Whitehorse had brought it all back after all these years.

      She groaned, wanting to keep sleeping so she could stay in that cherished memory longer. Her phone rang again. She swore that if it was one of her sisters calling this early...

      “What?” she demanded into the phone without bothering to see who was calling. She’d been so sure that it would be her youngest sister, Annabelle, the morning person.

      “Hello?” The voice was male and familiar. For just a moment she thought she’d conjured up the cowboy from the kiss. “It’s Justin.”

      Justin? She sat straight up in bed. Thoughts zipped past at a hundred miles an hour. How had he gotten her cell phone number? Why was he calling? Was he in Whitehorse?

      “Justin,” she said, her voice sounding croaky from sleep. She cleared her throat. “I thought it was Annabelle calling. What’s up?” She glanced at the clock. What’s up at seven forty-five in the morning?

      “I know it’s early but I got your message.”

      Now she really was confused. “My message?” She had danced with his best friend at the Christmas Dance recently, but she hadn’t sent Justin a message.

      “That you needed to see me? That it was urgent?”

      She had no idea what he was talking about. Had her sister Annabelle done this? She couldn’t imagine her sister Tessa Jane “TJ” doing such a thing. But since her sisters had fallen in love they hadn’t been themselves.

      “I’m sorry, but I didn’t send you a message. You’re sure it was from me?”

      “The person calling just told me that you were in trouble and needed my help. There was loud music in the background as if whoever it was might have called me from a bar.”

      He didn’t think she’d drunk-dialed him, did he? “Sorry, but it wasn’t me.” She was more sorry than he knew. “And I can’t imagine who would have called you on my behalf.” Like the devil, she couldn’t. It had to be her sister Annabelle.

      “Well, I’m glad to hear that you aren’t in trouble and urgently need my help,” he said, not sounding like that at all.

      She closed her eyes, now wishing she’d made something up. What was she thinking? She didn’t need to improvise. She was in trouble, though nothing urgent exactly. At least for the moment. And since she hadn’t told anyone about what was going on with her...

      “Are you in Whitehorse?” she asked.

      “No. I haven’t been back for years.” There was regret in his voice that made her think he hadn’t left because he wanted to. Odd.

      “Me either. I came home to be with my sisters for the holidays. I appreciate you calling though. It’s nice to know that if I was in trouble, you’d...” He hadn’t exactly said that he’d come running. “Call. It’s good to hear your voice.”

      “Yours too. It’s been a long time.”

      Too long. She wondered if he ever thought of her—and their kiss. Her sisters referred to Justin T. Calhoun as her high school boyfriend. But in truth, they’d barely gotten together before she’d had to leave for college. There’d just been that snowy-day kiss. He’d gone on to reportedly get engaged to Nicole “Nici” Kent, break up, and then get married to and divorced from Margie Taylor while Chloe had been busy getting her journalism degree and working her way up from one newspaper to another larger one.

      While she’d dated some, none of the men she’d met stood up to what she called The Kiss Test. None of them

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