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I’m okay.
He sent her a skeptical look.
She went to slide off the bench, but he moved into her way. A small spark of panic started in her belly. Instead of trying to calm it, she let it grow. Because this was how she should react to him. No way was the desire to curl up in his lap like a contented kitten and purr actually real. Or sane.
But he didn’t touch her. Or snap at her. Instead, he watched her carefully.
“For some reason, I don’t think you’re as scared of me as you’re pretending to be.”
She narrowed her gaze at him.
“Why don’t you want me touching you? Is it just me? Or all men?”
None of your business. And I don’t need a shrink.
She showed him the message.
“No, you need a bodyguard. Which is me. I’m in charge of you.” He pointed a finger at her. If she’d been braver, she would have bitten it.
Nobody is in charge of me.
“I’ve been employed to keep you safe, and that means if there is any danger to you, then you’re to do as I say. If you’re hurt, then I’m in charge of taking care of you. If you need something, then I’m here to provide it.”
That’s not what bodyguard means.
“Does in my world, babe.”
She wrinkled her nose at his arrogance. What he needed was a good, hard kick in the behind.
Fine. Then I’d like a double fudge sundae with whipped cream and sprinkles.
There. She sent him a triumphant look. He’d said if she needed something, he’d provide it.
“I’d say what you need is a medium-rare steak and an early night. Which I am happy to provide after I see to your hand and get you settled.”
Arrogant ass.
