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He looks up at me. “Don’t worry. I’m packin’.”
My eyes go wide. “Really?”
He snorts. “You’re safe with me.”
So, does that mean…he’s my new bodyguard. And he does or doesn’t carry a gun?
Could the gods be so kind?
I give him a look. “That’s what my last two bodyguards said, and now they’re working security at a mall in Spokane.”
His lips twitch. “Obviously, they didn't know what they were doin’.”
“Clearly.” I flick my hair over my shoulder. I’ve always been nice to my dad’s staff.
I don’t treat them like they need to wait on me hand and foot or anything, but do I have to be nice to these guys?
I mean…I can’t see this Rock guy cooking my meals and washing my clothes. Suddenly, everything is becoming more and more apparent.
If my dad really wanted me to have a good time on this trip, he would’ve sent staff with me. Then again, maybe the penthouse comes with staff? That would make more sense. I mean, I’m all for getting my hands dirty, but I’ve never really had to use the kitchen before. I try not to ponder on that horrible thought of trying to cook food.
He glances at my cat cage. “Who’s in there?” He peers around the cage as Pirate blinks at him. He can be a sassy cat if he doesn’t like you. And if he doesn’t like you, you know pretty quickly.
“Pirate,” I say proudly. “You’re not allergic, are you?”
He shakes his head. “Animals love me.”
I roll my lips. I’m sure they do.
I’d love to see him stick his hand in the cage, just to see what Pirate does, but he thinks better of it.
“Gonna need another trolley,” he mutters. When I fish out my credit card, our eyes meet again. “You don’t pack light.”
I steel my back. “I’m from the city.” Like that explains everything.
“The City of Angels, clearly.”
What in the fuck is that supposed to mean?
I tuck a lock of hair behind my ear and then I see another suitcase bobbing by on the belt. “My case!” I yelp, but he’s quicker than me.
He reaches it in two long strides and yanks the thing off swiftly like it weighs nothing.
His lips twitch when he says, “What you got in here, a dead body?”
“Just the essentials,” I tell him. “I really don’t know how long I’m going to be here for, after all.”
He gives me a chin lift. “Give me the card. I’ll get another trolley.”
He’s not asking, it’s a demand. And it’s so fucking hot.
Stop it.
Now is not the time to be crushing on this dude who not only looks like he just stepped off some magazine cover for Bad Boys Ink, but who also might just be the reason I want to draw this trip out for as long as possible.
Wait until I tell Tara. She’ll never believe it. Not that she’ll approve, as she hated Dylan and every other guy I’ve ever been with. Nobody is good enough for me in her eyes.
I hand it over, and as I do, our fingers touch and I feel a jolt. I steel my jaw and press my thighs together at the same time. Jesus. As he turns, I get a whiff of his cologne and my ovaries just about explode. It’s musky, almost peppery, with a hint of woods.
