The Protector (Barrett Boys #3) - Jordan Ford Page 0,37

as she checks to make sure we aren’t making a scene.

But the street is empty.

I step a little closer and lower my voice. “I’ve been hired to watch your back, okay? And if that means protecting you from your drunken self, then I'll do it. That guy was trying to lead you upstairs, and you were too off your face to even notice!”

“Have you ever thought that maybe I wanted to go upstairs!”

“Really?” I frown. “You wanted to go and have sex with that guy? What was his name again?”

She crosses her arms and looks to the ground, angry puffs shooting out her nostrils.

I work my jaw to the side and try to keep my voice calm. “I’m sorry if I embarrassed you, but you have to concede that maybe you embarrassed yourself a little too. I’m not screwing up this job because you suddenly want to go wild. It's up to you how hard this has to be."

“I don’t want to be your job!” She throws up her hands. “I just want to be normal. Who the hell has a freaking bodyguard, anyway? This is my one chance to finally live the life I’ve always wanted. I don’t want you acting like some guard dog, I just—arghh!” She smacks my arm with the back of her hand. I barely feel it.

Giving her a droll look, I tip my head. “I’m sorry you feel that way, but your dad hired me because he wants you to be safe. And whether you like it or not, you need my help right now.”

I nearly tell her she’d be sleeping on a bare mattress tonight if it wasn’t for me, but the way her scowl is being replaced by a watery look of pain shuts me up.

With a little sniff, she spins away, muttering, “I didn’t ask for this. Just leave me alone!”

I let her stomp away, getting a few paces ahead and giving her the space she so obviously wants.

Great. Nice going, Bro.

Slipping my hands into my pockets, I count to five, then start trailing behind her.

Yeah, this is seriously going to be the longest walk home in the history of man.

16

Grandpa’s Gentleman

My tongue tastes like puke.

My head feels like lead.

My heels have somehow turned into needle points that are freaking impossible to walk on, and all I want to do is cry!

Why?

Why do I feel so heinous?

Uh… because you’ve never really drunk alcohol before?

“I hate my life,” I mutter.

I’m the daughter of a Hollywood high-flyer. You’d think I’d be totally party-prepped, but with an insane need to stay out of the media spotlight, I’ve spent most of my teenage years holed up in my room, reading and living vicariously through characters I’ve never been brave enough to be.

Then tonight, I finally threw my inhibitions to the wind. Tabby was flirting up a storm with Rudy or whatever his name was, and when that guy approached me with his slick smile, I figured I could do the same. He was hot and he had nice hands. His breath tasted like peppermint, and there was zero recognition in his eyes. He didn’t know who I was. To him, I was just a pretty little freshman. He offered me drinks and I took them.

I acted like a carefree student at a college party… and what happened?

I got drunk to the point of hurling in someone’s front yard, and my bodyguard made a big scene and then joked about it afterward.

Brindy!

Ugh!

Shoot me now!

I can’t believe he said that to Tabatha, not to mention acting like some overprotective boyfriend in front of everyone. It was humiliating, and anyone who remembers tonight will no doubt talk about the drunken freshman and her giant boyfriend who got pissy and territorial!

He just doesn’t get it!

He doesn’t know what it’s like to have people speculating over you. Making all these assumptions and judgments without even knowing who you are!

He doesn’t get the fame, or how crazy hard it is to live in a world where your name and face could be plastered anywhere at any time, and lies get told about you like it’s no big deal. Like it’s not gonna hurt!

My heel wobbles and turns, but I manage to correct myself before it hurts. I hear Brody’s steps pick up, so I increase my pace. I don’t want to talk to him right now. I wish he wasn’t even here!

I stumble past a couple who give me a slightly odd look, then obviously glance past me and see my