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I bury my face in his skin.
Oh, God. He’s shirtless. Wearing nothing but his basketball shorts. The shock is enough to yank me out of the terror that grips me.
I sit up and wipe my hands across my face, using the move to keep from staring at him. “I’m sorry. I’m being silly.”
“You had a scare today.” Again, it feels like we’re two people talking. He’s still my bodyguard, but he’s seen the worst of me—the weakest. And he’s still willing to protect me with only my good word that I’ll pay him.
I roll my eyes. “I scared myself. I watched some crime documentaries to see if I could learn anything about what might happen next or how long this will take.” He stares at me like he can’t believe I’d do something so foolish. Sheepishly, I look down at my lap. My legs are crossed and butting against his thigh. He’s warm, unmoving. “And then I got scared for myself. My friends and my family. You.”
Disbelief fills his expression. “Me? Why?”
“You’re here, doing this, and you haven’t even gotten a dime yet.”
The muscles on the side of his jaw flex. “Don’t worry about me.”
“But I will.” If anything happens to him, it’s because he’s helping me. He scrutinizes me as if he doesn’t understand why I’m concerned about him. “Is it so hard to believe?”
“No one worries about me.” His tone is hollow.
I tuck a lock of hair behind my ear. I want to chew a nail so badly, but Cannon’s presence is keeping me from my bad habits. “Well, you have at least two people fretting about you now. Me and Mother.”
I told Mother we got rear-ended while trying to make a left. I made it sound like a fender bender. Mother is worried, but not like she’d be if she thought the incident was connected to my stalker, like I do. Like I’m sure Cannon does.
He’s looking at me like I told him I walked on the moon and talked to a few aliens. He isn’t the type to dwell on emotions, and I’ve bothered him enough.
I look around the room. Shadows drape in every corner and across the floor. “Maybe if I turn all the lamps on, I can sleep.”
If I remember my face pressed against Cannon’s bare chest and how his warmth chased away the fear, I won’t be able to sleep for different reasons.
He stands. I keep my gaze on my hands resting on my lap or I’ll stare at his abs.
“Get under the blankets.” His profile is harsh in the dark, almost haunted. I believe he did stuff overseas that qualifies him for the bodyguard job. In the dark, with his shaggy hair pushed off his face and no clothes to add an unkempt illusion, I believe he’s overqualified.
Wait. I didn’t catch what he said. “What?”
“Go on. Get in bed.” He goes to his room and a chill creeps over my body. I’m alone again.
Okay. He’s done with my silliness, but he’s too considerate to call me on it. I did this to myself. By the time I’m between the sheets, he’s returned with a blanket and a pillow. He goes to the settee in the corner.
“What are you doing?” I can see what he’s doing, but I have to be imagining it. He has a bed. He could get a decent night’s sleep. I’m the one who should suffer for my foolishness.
“I’ll sleep in here.”
Relief washes through me. I might have made a mistake in watching the documentaries, but I am still recovering from an accident. My anxiety isn’t silly.
Seeing his tall frame bend over the settee as he arranges his pillow doesn’t sit well. “You’re too big for that.”
“I’ve slept in worse.”
I haven’t. How sad is that? “But…”
He stops as he’s shaking out the blanket. “Do you want me to leave?”
God, no. The few moments he was out of the room were like being locked in a haunted house for an entire month. But that love seat and him? “I want you to be comfortable. Your feet are going to hang off. Your knees are going to hang off.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“We covered that already. I’m going to.”
