The Protector (Barrett Boys #3) - Jordan Ford Page 0,38
bodyguard. One of them cringes. They probably think he’s my boyfriend and we’re in the middle of a fight.
Or, shit, maybe they realize he’s my bodyguard, because he’s walking a few steps back, all watchful and aware. Dammit, they’ll figure it out, then know I’m famous and—
I stop and spin to tell Brody to walk beside me when my heel turns again, but this time it freaking hurts.
“Ahh!” My ankle buckles, pain searing up to my knee.
Brody’s there in an instant, catching my arm and pulling me back up.
“Is it your ankle?”
I hiss. “Yeah, I think so.”
“Heels, huh?”
I glare up at his droll expression, but then he winks at me and starts to smile. “Think you can walk?”
“I’ll be fine.” I shake him off and try to storm away, but my ankle is throbbing, and I think I want to throw up again.
My leg gives out, and this time Brody catches my arm then scoops me into a princess hold.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m carrying you.”
“Thank you, Captain Obvious,” I quip, trying to wriggle free. “But you don’t need to do that.”
“Oh really? Well, I hate to inform you, Princess Delusional, but you’ve hurt your ankle and you’re still kind of drunk. I don’t want to spend the next hour watching you hobble home when I could carry you there in like ten minutes.”
I grip the back of his shirt and try to get my sludgy brain to come up with a decent retort. “Won’t your arms get tired?”
He snickers. “You weigh like three pounds. I’m fine.”
My lips twitch, but I hold my grin in check. I don’t want to find him funny and charming. I’m annoyed right now!
Clenching my jaw, I keep my gaze averted from his chiseled face. It’s so close. If I wanted to, I could trace the lines of his cheekbones, then run my finger down his jaw, all the way to that chin dimple.
My fingers curl into a fist as I resist the urge to touch him.
I don’t want to.
He’s infuriating!
“Listen, I’m sorry about before.” His voice is soft and husky. It obliterates my anger and makes my insides tingle instead. I can’t help but listen to him. “I know you never asked for my company, and I swear I’ll stay out of your way as much as I can. But I draw the line at sleazy guys with grabby hands and selfish intentions. My grandpa raised me to be a gentleman, and a gentleman doesn’t get a girl drunk so he can take advantage of her. A gentleman looks after the people around him, so you’re just gonna have to put up with the fact that I will do everything in my power to protect you from getting hurt.”
His words still me. I can’t breathe for a second. All I can do is blink and try to control my trembling chin.
His grandpa raised him to be a gentleman. It’s impossible not to be enchanted by that one fact alone. But then he said all that other nice stuff, and I wish I could memorize it.
With a little sniff, I rest my head against his shoulder. I don’t know why I do it.
I guess I have to admit that it’s kind of nice being carried this way. I don’t know if I ever have been. Not since I was a kid anyway. Sometimes Loretta would carry my sleepy self upstairs to bed. I remember pretending to be super sleepy just so she would carry me. But that hasn’t happened in a long time.
There’s something safe about this feeling. Like if I wanted to, I could drift off to sleep and know nothing bad was going to happen to me.
But can I trust Brody?
What he just said makes me think I can, but what if he’s lying?
What if he’s like those prep school girls?
He’s nothing like them.
What if he’s like those prep school guys? Like Jameson?
He’s not. Jameson wasn’t getting paid to be nice to you. He had other intentions. Selfish ones.
Daddy’s paying Brody to keep me safe, though, so I can put some faith in that. He seems to want this job. Seems to be taking it seriously.
As much as I don’t want a bodyguard, maybe I need one. Just until I can find my feet and work out how to look after myself. Heck, Brody knows how to make a bed on his own, maybe he can teach me how to do other home-type things as well.