Page 13 of His to Keep

“Good luck, man.”

I nodded grimly as Tim slipped his arm around Whitney’s waist and walked her out to the small entryway of the restaurant. A garden grew here, and for a moment, I almost gave him another bonus point for thinking of these types of things.

I never would’ve. I wasn’t romantic in the least; my brother Asher had gotten every ounce of “smooth” from our parents.

Tim was leaning in, his nice face intent on hers. Something deep and dark rose in my throat, and I stepped from the shadow of the building. Whitney’s hands were on his chest, and she was tilting her face back to his, beautiful features wide in surprise.

My fists clenched.

I wanted it to be me. I wanted to understand how to woo someone. I wanted to plan the perfect date and sweep Whitney off her feet. I wanted the privilege of her face turning to mine and wanting to be kissed.

I wanted it so fucking bad.

Bad enough that it took me a second longer than usual to realize that the hands on his chest were white knuckled and clenched. And the surprise on her lips had faded quickly to dislike. In fact, every inch of her body arched away from Nice Guy Tim, even as he pushed through her defense and pressed his mouth to hers.

For a moment, I could hear the long, slow beat of my heart. And then I was there, Tim’s shirtfront clenched in my first as I removed every bit of him from her. It was too easy, too simple to clench my hands there and lift him to his tiptoes.

“The lady said no.”

***

Chapter 5

Whitney

Dating in this day and age was always awkward. Everything was swipe this, double tap that. I had very little patience for it. But something about this pregnancy was igniting every part of me that craved a partner. I wanted the cuddles, I wanted the support, and I wanted the sex.

When Tim had reached out through my work friend, he had appeared every inch the part. Save the small lie about being six-foot, he fit my need-to-have list to a T. Handsome, successful, unmarried. He wanted kids, a dog, maybe even a picket fence. And he told me all about it through four courses of dinner and half dessert.

The only problem was that even as I listened, my brain was consumed with images of David walking around my new apartment shirtless.

But Tim was real.

Tonight wasn't bad. It had just…been. I ordered my favorite pork dish, sipped on my water, and enjoyed the conversation as much as I might enjoy the same conversation with the mailman or the bank teller.

Tim was boring.

Boring… Well, boring wasn’t exactly getting my engine going these days.

When he moved us out of the restaurant, intent on showing me the neighboring garden before I went home, I was grateful that David’s enormous shadow broke away from the bar to follow us.

Which was a surprise since I was mad as hell a few minutes before, when the bill had arrived paid in full by Mr. Emerson Brooks.

Pain-in-the-ass baby daddy.

Anyway, I had no interest in letting Tim kiss me. I’d expected a soft push and a verbal decline would do the trick. He proved me wrong, pressing his cool mouth against mine anyway.

I wasn’t even completely sure he was completely against my skin before Gates ripped him free. And when I say ripped, I meant it. Gates had the man by his shirt collar, dangling Tim by the collar as he snarled at the smaller man.

I stepped back, shocked at the visceral show of authority and power.

“Gates!”

“You know this brute?” Tim’s handsome face was contorted in very real fear, which was probably smart. My usually impassive bodyguard looked every inch the monster right now. I bit down on my lip, unsure of how I felt about my body’s throbbing reaction to seeing the big man standing between my date and me.

I cringed, suddenly feeling guilty that I hadn’t explained this part of my situation. “He’s…my bodyguard.”

“Why do you have a bodyguard?”

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