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“Stand up,” he ordered her.
She swallowed. She hadn’t been ordered around like this since she was in foster care. Back then, it had been a wholly negative experience, but something told her that with Blake, it was going to be quite different.
"Alright," she said, obeying him by jumping off the bench. "Let’s get straight to the point. I need your help, sir. I want to hire you for a night."
Blake arched an eyebrow, smirking at her. “You want to hire me for a night?”
She blushed some more. “Gah, not like that. Not in a . . . you know. A weird way.”
Stay cool, Savvy, stay cool!
She didn’t normally get nervous like this when she talked to men. She was cool and composed, used to talking to all kinds of jerks and bullies. But Blake . . . he was so calm, so confident, so intense, that it made her all kinds of uncomfortable.
A gust of wind whipped Savannah's auburn curls around her face as she stood on the bustling boardwalk, the salty scent of the ocean mingling with the sweet aroma of nearby treats.
“Anyway,” she said, trying to focus. “Let me tell you the plan. I’m going to infiltrate—”
"Stop right there," Blake said gruffly, his eyes scanning the area. "Let's get some ice cream first.”
“Some . . . ice cream? Sorry, what?” she asked, confused. First this man had invited her to the beach and now he wanted to get ice cream? Had she actually called Paladin Security last night? Or was he some kind of rent-a-beach-buddy escort?
“We don't want to draw attention," he explained. “As far as anyone else is concerned, we’re here for a day at the beach. So, let’s damn well look the part.”
"Fine," Savannah agreed, annoyed by his brusque demeanor but recognizing the wisdom in his suggestion. Even though there was no chance someone would be tailing them, it didn't hurt to be cautious.
They made their way to a nearby ice cream stand, the colorful sign declaring it "The Best Ice Cream in Chicago."
“Flavor?” he asked her brusquely.
She almost laughed out loud at the sight of this tough guy asking her what kind of ice cream she wanted. But she stopped herself at the last minute. This wasn’t a funny situation, after all. She was about to ask Blake for the most important favor of her life.
“A rainbow cone, please,” she asked sincerely. She’s always wanted one of these but had never allowed herself one.
Hers wasn't the kind of life that included treats. Sure, she had her cute clothes and Mr. Whiskers, her stuffie, and her coloring pencils, but they were more about necessity than indulgence. This rainbow cone ice cream was nothing other than pure indulgence.
“One rainbow cone and one vanilla,” Blake said to the server.
Savannah couldn’t hide a small smile that crept into the corners of her mouth. “Vanilla? Doesn't seem like you.”
Blake turned back to her, his eyes—just for a brief moment—roaming down her slim frame. “Babygirl, I’m anything but vanilla. I just happen to like my ice cream . . . uncomplicated.”
Babygirl?
Savannah did her best to hide the flush of excitement and surprise she felt. Did Blake somehow know she was a Little? Should she be upset with him? Flattered?
Blake handed her a cone layered with five distinct slabs of ice cream. “Go on then,” he said, as they started walking down to the beach. “Tell me everything.”
Savannah licked her ice cream, savoring the creamy goodness of the layers in combination with one another. Orange sherbet, pistachio, Palmer House—which, she discovered was cherry, walnut, and vanilla—plus strawberry and chocolate. “Ohmygod,” she gasped. “How do such completely different flavors work so well when they’re squashed up close together?”
Another quirk of the eyebrow from Blake.
“Uh, anyway,” she said. “Enough about squashing stuff together.”
Yep. She was blushing again. Of course she was.
“I need you to protect me for one night only,” she blurted quickly. “Ideally tonight.”
Blake, who was in the middle of licking his vanilla ice cream with a tongue that somehow looked as strong as the rest of him, locked his eyes on Savannah’s. “Where?”
