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“It’s not calling yourself names if it’s the truth,” she insisted.
Oh, this brat needed her bottom heated. And his hand itched to do it.
Not yours.
“Another rule. You’re not to tell me sorry for things that aren’t your fault. Did you ask to be terrified of snowstorms?”
“No,” she whispered.
“Did you want to be caught up in one? Or to have your car break down?”
“No. Of course not.”
“Then why are you apologizing?”
“Because I’m being such an inconvenience and I hate that,” she blurted out.
He stared down at the agony on her face. She really meant that. She hated the idea of inconveniencing him.
Oh, baby.
If only she knew . . . the more she leaned on him, the more she needed from him . . .
The more he wanted her.
Reaching out, he cupped her face between his hands. “You are not an inconvenience. You are a privilege.”
Her eyes were wide as she gaped up at him.
“I am privileged that you feel safe enough with me to show me your true emotions. That you feel safe enough with me to turn to me for security. To let me carry you up the stairs into the unknown. To sit on my lap. To get into my truck with me. You are a treasure that I am more than happy to protect.”
“You . . . I can’t believe you just said that.”
“Believe it. Because I meant it.”
7
You are a treasure that I am more than happy to protect.
Greer couldn’t believe he’d said that to her.
She also couldn’t believe that she was still sitting on his lap. She really needed to get off. Only problem was . . . he made her feel so safe. And she needed that right now.
Desperately.
Reaching up, he drew off his hat. Oh. His hair was longer than she’d thought. It was dark, like his beard and she wanted to run her fingers through it desperately.
Behave, Greer.
“He’s not your personal snuggle bear.”
“Snuggle bear?” he asked with amusement.
Shit.
She had to stop blurting things out loud.
“I didn’t say that!”
