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“I’m just trying to keep you safe; that’s my job,” he reminded her.
Lucky for her he wasn’t her boss because she would have earned herself a spanking for running off on him.
“I’m fine and you knew exactly where I’d be.”
She wasn’t wrong and he wasn’t going to stand out here and argue with her, even if his heart was breaking a little more for her seeing her so down. But he knew Kyra, and knew he had to be stern.
“Next time you want to see the horses, tell me and we’ll come out here together. For now, we need to get to the room and get settled and find some food.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Ky, I’m not doing this. You can get in the cart of your own volition, or I can put you in it. Your choice.”
She shrugged but didn’t move to obey. Brock took a breath and readied himself for a fight as he scooped her into his arms, but the fight never came. As he carried her to the golf cart he felt how light she was in his arms despite her height, how fragile she felt. He tried not to think about it, to think about her that way, as he sat her on the back seat of the cart and buckled her in before climbing on next to her.
“We can come back out whenever you want,” he told her.
Kyra shrugged again and Brock shook his head. He was going to kill that motherfucker if he ever got his hands on him. Kyra was a bubbly little princess brat and as much as it made his palms itch to redden her backside, he adored her and hated that she was hurting. He hated even more that he couldn’t fix it for her. He would much rather deal with her sass and bratting than for her to retreat inside herself. She’d been looking forward to this trip for months and he wanted her to enjoy herself regardless of what was happening in her personal life. He really was going to strangle the bastard. He hoped for all their sakes Richard stayed away because Brock didn’t want to end up in prison and leave Kyra unprotected.
The ride back to the main building was short, and before anything else could go awry Brock had them sequestered in their hotel room. Kyra still hadn’t said a word, and once they were in the large, two-bedroom suite the Ranch had set aside for them, she went straight to the bed in the larger bedroom and climbed in, not even bothering to close the door.
Brock didn’t quite know how to handle his sad little charge. He wasn’t much for small talk, which worked because she talked enough for four of them on a normal day. Spotting the menus in the middle of the console table near the window in the living area, he snagged them and held them up.
“Mexican, Italian, or something from the café for dinner? We can have anything delivered to the room,” he announced.
“I’m not hungry. I just want to stay in bed,” Kyra replied without even looking at him.
Glancing over the menu, Brock smiled. “Not even hungry for pork tamales and flan?” Kyra would eat tamales for breakfast, lunch and dinner if it was possible, and flan was her all-time favorite dessert.
She stayed silent.
“I’m ordering. If you don’t want to eat tonight I’m not going to force you.”
“You can’t force me anyway,” she said.
Don’t tempt me, little girl.
He would give her the night to be sad and withdrawn, but tomorrow was a new day and he was determined to pull her out of this and make sure she had the time of her life. They were at Rawhide Ranch for god’s sake, and he wasn’t going to let her waste any more time on Dickwad.
