Billionaire Protector - Alexa Hart Page 0,32

different from now on. I always wanted a kid.”

Randall had real tears in his eyes. I didn’t think it was possible for him to really never hurt me again – I wasn’t that naïve. But he was being genuine. His emotion was raw – real.

In that moment, I wanted so badly to believe that he really did love me. He’d had a shitty childhood himself. Maybe he could change.

Maybe the baby would change him.

“Imma’ be a better man, Val. I ain’t gonna be no shit father. I love you.”

He pulled me to him then, embracing me gently – the way he used to.

Instantly, the sensation of comfort flooded me just as it always had back in the days when Randall was sweet. He’d given me a job. He’d taken me in.

He was capable of kindness. I had seen it with my own eyes.

The entire world seemed to blur for a moment, and I realized that I’d already decided to stay. I would give Randall one more chance.

For the baby’s sake.

Every kid deserved a shot at having a real family, didn’t they?

I woke to a gentle hand lightly nudging my shoulder.

“We’re here, Anne. You’re home. I think. Are you home?” Penn’s voice was so kind.

Randall’s voice had been kind as well once upon a time.

The front of Kate’s Supplies came into focus, and I attempted to pull myself together. Falling asleep had not been in my plans at all.

“You live above the store or something?” Penn pointed at Kate’s home, where the lights were on and Murphy was probably snuggled up in Kate’s bed with his favorite blanket.

“Not there. That’s Kate’s apartment. Mine’s over there.” I pointed to the windows above the coffee shop storefront.

“Oh wow, that’s cool. Kinda like city living, but in the middle of nowhere. I like it.” Penn’s eyes were so blue. I’d never met anyone who had such crystal blue eyes.

“It’s alright. It’s a place to live.” I shrugged, trying to envision what Penn’s house must look like. Was it on the ranch? Did he live with his father and brothers? Did they all live separately?

Exactly how ridiculous did my living situation seem to him right now?

But he was smiling widely. There wasn’t a hint of judgement on his face. He seemed to actually really believe that it was “cool”.

He’s too sweet. He’s too nice for a girl like you.

It was an unexpected thought, and I resented it immediately. I knew I was damaged goods. I knew I was not the girl that Penn Hardick deserved.

He was kind. Gentle. Soft spoken. Genuine.

I didn’t deserve Penn Hardick, but I certainly wanted him an awful lot.

We were locked into some kind of stare down, and I realized that this was the moment where I ask him to come upstairs.

Or didn’t.

I wanted to... but I just wasn’t ready for that yet.

How did a person go from champagne and red carpets to an apartment like mine? Penn would be shocked. My place might sound cool to him, and it certainly was clean – cute even.

But it was small. Minimally furnished. It wasn’t the hip downtown hangout spot that he was imagining, I was sure. And Murphy – I needed to get Murphy.

I definitely wasn’t ready to share Murph with Penn or anyone else for that matter. I’d finally found safety here. My little boy was out of danger.

I didn’t know how to give that up just yet. Not to anyone.

Not even to Penn Hardick and his sparkly blue eyes.

“It’s late... I have to work tomorrow. I should probably just... go.” I read the disappointment on his face immediately. This was the part where he would get mad, or at least mildly annoyed, that he’d left a city party and drove me all the way home to Bumpkinville only to be sent away.

But I was wrong.

“Whatever you want, Anne. Whatever makes you comfortable.” Penn was still smiling, and he put a hand to the side of my face.

I hadn’t been touched like that ever in my life. His gesture wasn’t just sweet, it was radiating with something so soft and pure that I couldn’t even name it. I just stared up at him, mesmerized.

When Penn Hardick kissed me, the whole entire world went silent. There wasn’t a past or a present or even a future. There was just that kiss. His lips were soft, tenderly exploring my own. Even his tongue was gentle – not pushing or demanding but somehow conveying his passion and warmth with slow, reverent movements.

Both of his