Page 10 of Faking it with the Billionaire
I clear my throat. “Of you and Barbie? No. She’s just interested in getting in your pants,” I say. I don’t know if that’s true, but it comes out a little too hastily before I can snap my mouth shut.
“You’re definitely jealous.” He smirks, his gaze eating me alive.
It’s hot under his stare. I want to remove my suitcoat and strip down, let the cool wind caress my skin, but I can’t do that in the stadium lot. I’m pretty sure if I started stripping, someone would have me arrested.
Not the best plan to keep Kyler close and protect him and his little girl.
Yes, he hired me to protect Bristol, but she’s not my only responsibility. He needs someone watching his back, and with women like Brittney vying for his attention, it’s going to be hard to keep him under a tight leash if he likes to flirt with other girls and even date them.
“Are you going to invite me inside?” I ask, gesturing to the stadium behind him.
“Walk with me.” He stalks toward the door, grabs the handle, and yanks it open. There’s security at the entrance, but they know him and let him inside. I’m handed a visitor’s pass as he leads me through a maze of hallways.
“The stadium has private security. Why do you need me here? Wouldn’t it be best for me to stay with your daughter?” I ask as I practically jog to match his strides.
“Bristol is at school, and you’re still on the clock.” A smirk grazes that face, but it’s not warm and genuine. It’s almost like he has something planned, and I’m going to regret accepting this job from Eagle Tactical.
Thanks, boys, for throwing me to the wolves—or rather, just one wolf, Kyler Greyson.
Don’t get me wrong. The eye candy helps make up for his annoying habits already. I’ve only been in his home a few days over a long weekend, but he likes to blast his music when he cooks breakfast and tends to leave the dishes in the sink until mid-afternoon when he cleans them.
“Keep up, M&M,” he quips.
“M&M? You aren’t seriously giving me that as a nickname.” I have half a mind to pummel his ass to the ground, but that tiny voice in the back of my head reminds me that he’s my boss.
“You’re tiny. Seems fitting.”
“You’re an ass, but you don’t hear me calling you puckhole.”
He chuckles under his breath. “That’s cute. It’s nice to see you have a sense of humor, M&M.”
I scoff at his nickname and jab him with my elbow.
“Did you seriously just assault me?”
I stop walking. My mouth hangs agape. “No,” I say, and I’m not even sure what to make of his comment. He’s the one making up nicknames. I just retaliated. It wasn’t that bad.
He stops walking and glances back when he realizes I haven’t chased after him. He’s used to all the girls chasing him, probably since grade school.
“Relax,” he grunts and gestures for me to join him. “I don’t bite. Well, not unless you’re into that sort of thing.” And he winks at me.
Fuck.
“Are you flirting with me, Mr. Greyson?” I ask and suck in a nervous breath. My voice quivers, but I hope he doesn’t notice.
Kyler smiles as I catch up with him, and he keeps walking, turning the corner, and I’m right at his side. I swear we’ve walked in circles, but maybe I’m just not paying enough attention to my surroundings while flirting and ogling Kyler Greyson.
I bite down on my bottom lip, the pain slightly piercing, enough to jar me back to reality. I need to focus.
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he says. “Come on. I’ll give you the tour.”
We reach the locker room entrance, and I’m about to ask if it’s appropriate for me to follow. He tugs on me to keep up, grabbing my arm.
The warmth and sudden contact feel natural as his eyes stare right into my soul. The man could tell me to walk off a bridge, and at that moment, I’d do anything for him.
A man comes barreling around the corner and rips Kyler from my grasp, pointing a gun at his head.
Instinctively, my fingers reach for my belt, where I secure my weapon, but I don’t have a gun on me.
