Page 40 of The Gargoyle and the Songbird

I glance up to see Graeme standing guard just outside the soundproof barrier, arms crossed over his muscular chest, expression unreadable as always. But those piercing ice-blue eyes seem to bore right through me.

All throughout the interviews, I can’t help sneaking glances at Graeme.

At the imposing breadth of his shoulders. The way his heavy brow lowers as he scans for threats. The fluid grace rippling beneath his stony skin as he shifts position.

Gods, he really is insanely hot. It’s maddening.

I swallow hard, thighs clenching under my dress. Damn it.

I shake off those dangerously tempting thoughts, plastering another neon-bright grin on my face as I charm my way through the rest of the interviews. Later, I’ll figure out what to do about my growing attraction to my stubborn protector.

For now, I have a pop star persona to maintain.

Wrapping up the last interview,I log off with a sigh of relief. The smile drops from my face and I slump back in my chair, the exhaustion hitting me like a tidal wave.

“Ready to go?”

Graeme’s gruff voice makes me start. I glance up to find him pushing through the soundproof barrier, his intense blue eyes assessing me with that usual unwavering focus.

“Yeah, just give me a sec.” I rub my temples, trying to will away the tension headache building behind my eyes. We’re swinging by my dad’s place for lunch. I gather my things and don my snowsuit before pushing out into the cold.

Graeme is never more than a step behind me, of course, scowling as he keeps pace. “I’ll need to secure the perimeter when we arrive.”

Of course. I suppress an eye roll, releasing a visible puff of breath. “Fine, but I doubt anyone will be lurking around outside. It’s freezing out there.”

“I’ll be quick.” He pauses, then adds, “If you want my jacket as an extra layer, you should take it. Gargoyles are impervious to temperature extremes.”

I blink at him, surprised by the voluntary personal tidbit. “Really? That’s… handy.”

He shrugs. “Comes with the territory.”

Huh. Guess there’s still a lot I don’t know about gargoyles. Or about him.

“I’ll do a sweep, wait here.” Graeme’s command snaps me out of my melancholy thoughts, and I look up to see we’ve arrived at my Dad’s.

I ignore him, pushing through the front gate and marching up the walk. I can feel his glare burning into my back but I don’t care. I’m too drained to argue.

The door swings open before I can knock and then I’m being folded into my dad’s arms.

“Hey, songbird.” His smooth, musical voice washes over me, unknotting some of the tension in my shoulders. “Right on time.”

“Hi, Dad.” I hang on for an extra moment, soaking in his comforting presence.

Graeme has reappeared after a quick tour of the front and back yards. He clears his throat from the doorway, looming like a disapproving statue. “I’ll be out here if you need me, Ms. Waverly.”

“I won’t,” I mutter under my breath. Then, louder. “Take your time, Graeme. Build a snowman or something while you’re out there.”

I pretend not to hear his long-suffering sigh as I shut the door in his face.

Dad quirks a brow at me but doesn’t comment, leading me into the kitchen instead. The scent of basil and garlic wafts from a pot bubbling on the stove, making my stomach rumble.

“Your grandma’s risotto recipe,” he says with a wink. “Just the thing for a cold day, eh?”

“Sounds perfect.” I grab a seat at the kitchen table, watching him stir the simmering pot.

This is nice. Normal. No bodyguards, no panic about the magical snow, no one taking my picture or asking me one more question. Just me and my dad, hanging out like we used to.

I can almost pretend that the last few crazy weeks never happened.

---