Page 7 of Another Round
The gentleman in me can’t help but defy her father’s orders to let her be independent and struggle a little. That’s just not how I’m wired. I reach to grab the strap of her bag, but she shakes her head. Surprising me that she doesn’t seem to want—or expect—any assistance.
“Thanks, but I’ve got it.”
Well fuck me. “Okay then.”
I still hold the door open as she maneuvers through the entryway and down the narrow hallway on her own. Despite the urge within me, I fight against my instinct to take care of her.
My chest constricts from the outrageous thought. Nother. Any woman. I would carry stuff and open doors for any woman I’m around. She’s no different.
I follow her through the corridor until she stops in front of the next entrance and looks up at me expectantly. Reminding me how petite she is with both of us crowded into the small space. Confirming how vulnerable she is with her willowy body only inches from mine. Proving all my abundant precautions to safeguard her are more than necessary and beyond warranted.
“Is this one mine?”
A thin finger points to the silver ‘2’ I affixed to the black wood this morning. Unaware the simple number also serves as a motion detector with the sensors hidden in the screw heads. “Yeah, this is it. Let me see your mobile, and I’ll upload the app for you to be able to lock and unlock the door.”
Without any hesitation, she taps in her passcode and hands over the phone. Stirring conflict in me that I didn’t expect. I like the fact that she trusts me so readily, although I’m also very aware she shouldn’t. Not yet anyway. But she must as she doesn’t even watch me work or check out the screen to see what I’m doing. Beneficial since she has no idea that I’m also adding a tracking device, as well as software to monitor her calls and texts, but still way too gullible. No wonder she needs me.
I step closer to show her the instructions, and her sultry scent inundates me as her bare shoulder brushes my forearm. A contradictory confection of floral and musk that befits her personality. Of course, she gets the process in one try. Technology effortless and intuitive for her generation. Proving she’ll be brilliant at this social media internship her father set up for her.
The lock clicks free, and I twist the knob, motioning for her to enter first. Golden rays break through the unadorned windows and streak across the hardwood. Her face lighting up almost as dazzling as the sunshine while her gaze sweeps through the sparse space. Only occupied by a king size bed, two huge white club chairs, and a black oval coffee table. I just got the basics so she could select what she really wants for herself. “What do you think?”
“I love it.” She runs her hand across the exposed brick on one of the pillars and spins around to face me again. “I know I’m a geek, but I always wonder about the people who built these old buildings and worked here and lived here. What their lives were like back then.”
“Probably much harder than ours.”
“Definitely.”
She laughs softly, waving her hand through the air at the amenities within the room. With the huge flat screen dominating a quarter of the wall, the air conditioning lightly blowing wisps of her hair, and the row of gleaming appliances filling her L-shaped kitchen, we both recognize how spoiled we are. “Archie’s is the local grocery delivery service, and there’s a—”
“Thanks, but I want to pick things out myself. Maybe explore my new town for a little bit after I go for my run.”
Yeah, because it’s Friday night and she wants to go out like most twenty-one-year-olds.
“You have Uber here, right?”
Fuck. I guess I’m going out too because there’s no way in hell I can let her roam the city alone or ride around with a damn stranger. “I actually need a few things myself. How about we get in a quick run together and then I can give you a ride to the shops?”
I sound like a tosser, a little too eager and a lot too obvious. She apparently agrees from the phony smile covering her now pinched face. I guess she thought things would be different here. That she’d actually get to taste the freedom her dad dangled in front of her. Enjoy living unconstrained like her father enticed her with to accept this situation. Yet she can’t forget the line between independent and unprotected is too thin not to break if she isn’t careful. If I’m not careful.
“Sure, sounds good.”
Absolutely zero enthusiasm. I try not to be too insulted. Guarding her isn’t personal. It’s a job. And both of us will do very well to remember that fact.
Idon’t know what the fuck she’s thinking, but she sure as hell isn’t going out like that.
Bobbing her head and mouthing the words to whatever song is playing on her phone attached to her bicep, she crouches down to tighten her laces. Oblivious to me staring at her when all I see is skin. Way too much for me and everyone else.
Her earlier disappointment from having to tolerate me accompanying her during her evening out must have faded with the grin she gives me when she catches sight of me.
“Hey!”
She yanks out an ear bud and rises, giving me a full view of her gorgeous body barely covered in tiny white shorts and a pink sports bra. And. Nothing. Else. Jesus. “You need to put a shirt on.”
Her gaze flicks to my bare chest, lingering on the ink marking my pecs and stomach, before meeting my eyes again. Quirking an eyebrow at me from the irony. But I’m not playing that game. “It’s not the same.”
She laughs. The sweet sound invading my muscles strained with irritation from her defiance. Glorious and enticing but not enough to make me change my mind. “Evie.”
Absolutely no effect from my growl at her. Not even a bit concerned with the warning flashing in my tone. She has the audacity to roll her eyes and drop back down to finish messing with her shoe. Fuck that. I grasp her arms and haul her to her feet.
