Page 99 of Lowering His Guard

“They’re fries with whiskey cheese sauce, pulled pork, crispy onions, and pickles,” I explain as I pull my door closed. “Let’s go.” I shoo him forward, but he doesn’t move.

“What’s wrong?”

“You didn’t lock your door.”

I shrug. “I usually don’t.”

He growls. “You don’t lock your door?”

“Exactly.”

“Anyone could come into your house while you’re gone.”

“This is Smuggler’s Hideaway. The worst thing that could possibly happen is a drunk tourist stumbles into my house and throws up in my shoes.” I shiver.

“No one is stumbling into your house. Where are your keys?”

I dig them out of my pocket and dangle them at him. “Aren’t they cute? There’s a mermaid, a seal, and an otter.”

He snatches them from me and locks my door. “From now on, you lock your door.”

“Brock, seriously. It’s not a big deal.”

He palms my neck and meets my gaze. “I need to know you’re safe. Especially when I’m far away and can’t keep you safe myself.”

When he’s far away? Does he want our relationship to continue after he leaves Smuggler’s Hideaway? I hope to smuggler he does.

“It’s not your job to keep me safe.”

“Yes, it is, pint-sized,” he grumbles before his lips meet mine again in a quick, hard kiss.

I blink up at him. Maybe I should annoy him more often. I’m becoming addicted to his kisses. His stomach growls again and I shake my head to clear the ‘kissed by Brock’ fog.

“Okay,” I agree and he grants me a full-blown smile. My nipples tingle in response. Maybe we should skip the boardwalk. Skip dinner. And spend the evening in my bed instead.

His stomach rumbles and I bark out a laugh. Maybe not.

I grasp his hand. “Let’s feed the alien before it attacks.”

He laces his fingers with mine and I lead him out of the backyard, through the alleyway, toward the boardwalk at the beach.

It’s packed when we arrive. But Brock has no problem maneuvering us through the crowd. Women stare at him and men’s eyes light with recognition, but no one stops us.

“Oh. Pirate popcorn shrimp.” I tug on his hand. “Let’s get some.”

“I thought you wanted loaded fries.”

I grin. “We’re adults. We can have both.”

He shakes his head at me but leads me to the booth where he orders a serving of shrimp.

“With extra spicy cannonball sauce,” I add. “I love spicy things.”

“Naturally.”

Our order arrives in a newspaper cone. I immediately grab a shrimp. “Aw, hot.” I pop the treat into my mouth anyway. The hot grease burns my tongue, but I persevere. I don’t fool around when it comes to Smuggler’s Hideaway boardwalk food.

Brock watches me with a frown on his face. “You could have waited two minutes.”