Page 13 of Taylor’s Warrior

“And you’re supposed to be my bodyguard?”

At that, every last shred of humor fled his body. “You’d better believe it. I don’t joke about my work. You’d also better believe it means you do what I tell you, when I tell you, remember?”

His response was perhaps a little abrupt; Taylor certainly seemed to think so, given the stubborn jut of her chin, the way her lips were pressed together, and the explosive energy she put into the act of folding her arms. To drive the message home, Rhys was prepared to go nuclear on her delectable ass. “I mean it.”

Taylor threw her hands up. “Whatever.”

For a split second, Rhys entertained the idea of pulling over and putting Taylor over his knee so he could blister her butt… but only for a split second. He wasn’t into the whole spanking thing, unlike some of his former colleagues back in the UK. Besides, if he were to give into the whim, the next couple of weeks would be unbearable. He wondered if charm might work on her.

“Taylor, my priority is keeping you safe. So, how about we call a truce?”

At first, the question ran headlong into a wall of stubborn silence, but then Rhys sensed a less belligerent vibe coming from that side of the pickup.

“That makes sense,” Taylor conceded. “After all, we don’t know how long we’re going to be stuck with each other, and I’m not sure I have the energy to fight with you constantly for the duration.”

The unexpected hint of weariness in her reply provoked a sudden urge to comfort her with a hug.

“Pax, then?” he ventured. “If it helps, we can always agree this is temporary and resume hostilities once you’re out of danger?”

Although it was his idea, he found himself hoping she wouldn’t take him up on it.

Her gaze remained fixed on the green countryside beyond the highway. For a moment he wondered if she hadn’t heard him, but then, with a swift glance, he caught her chewing her lower lip—a sure sign she was mired in some sort of internal debate.

Rhys turned his full attention back to the road ahead. Seconds later, he heard a heavy sigh and braced himself for whatever she was preparing to say.

>>><<<

So, Rhys Dalton was human, after all, and not exclusively the irritating asshole she’d always found him to be.

The trouble was, seeing him that way had been a very effective defense against how damn attractive he was. That defense was now crumbling. Now she was seeing more of the human side of him, the risk of succumbing to the same spell that had bewitched Charity had increased—except for Taylor, the danger was Welsh, not English.

And that danger had just made a peace offering. She was so tired of all the drama that was going on in her life. Tired and scared, and even a tad guilty for not following her father’s instructions to the letter. It would be a relief not to feel on edge for a while.

“Okay—pax. A temporary truce. I agree.”

While those words lifted a weight from her shoulders, the greater surprise was the proposition her treacherous mouth then decided unilaterally to unleash on the world. “We could always, you know, extend the truce for a while after this is over. Just sayin’.”

The seconds of silence that followed were more than a little unnerving.

“We could give it a try, see how it goes. What do you think?”

Taylor’s eyes almost rolled. “I think, since I suggested it, it’s a good idea. You can thank me later.”

And there it was—the elusive, eye-catching dimple in his cheek. She didn’t get to see it very often, and it had pretty much always appeared when he was talking to someone else. She felt rather smug to have finally joined their ranks.

“Whatever you say, ma’am.”

And that was that. Taylor returned to watching the countryside pass by, but there was one more observation she felt compelled to make. “I may not be a Texas native, but I’ve been here long enough to know your accent needs some work.”

Rhys grunted. It could have been a laugh of sorts; Taylor wasn’t sure.

“Maybe you could give me a few lessons.”

Taylor swallowed hard. Was he serious? He had to be, because if he wasn’t, the only other option was that he was flirting with her, and that was impossible.

His expression betrayed nothing.

He was looking straight ahead, his profile now a dark and dangerous dimple-free zone. The man seemed to have permanent five o’clock shadow. The look had never appealed to Taylor, but her bodyguard wore it well.