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She startles, her blue eyes going comically wide.
"Jesus Christ," Zion mutters. "You really don't listen, do you?"
"To you? Never. Why don't you go handle something that needs handlin', and I'll help Ms. Cooper get the intake paperwork completed?"
"Hurt me? Intake paperwork?" Emma tries to untangle her hand from mine. I hold onto it, reluctant to let her go. She's the softest thing I've ever felt, and she smells like sunshine. I didn't even know that was possible, but here we are. "Could you please let me go?"
"No."
Her pouty lips fall open in shock.
"Pretty sure you can't just touch her without permission, brother," Zion says, wry amusement lacing his tone. "It's illegal in all fifty states."
"I'm not touchin' her. I'm holding her hand."
"It's the same thing," Emma whispers.
"Nah, lamb. If I were touching you, my brother wouldn't be standin' here. I'm just keeping you safe."
Zion gapes at me like I've lost my mind.
Shit, maybe I have because I hear how batshit I sound, yet my reasoning seems perfectly rational in my mind. I don't want to let her go, and keeping her hand in mine seems like the perfect way to accomplish that.
But judging from the concerned look on Emma's face and the shit-eating grin on my brother's, I'm way off base here.
"I mean, of course, I'll let you go if you want." I reluctantly release her hand, trying to get my brain firing on all cylinders again. Jesus. I can't think through the clamor in my head.
"Thank you," she says, quickly thrusting her hand behind her back like she's afraid I'll make a play to steal it back.
"I'd say the pleasure is all mine, but it'd be a lie. Your hand is soft as hell. I much preferred when I was holdin' it."
"Jesus Christ. I cannot believe Gideon isn't here to see this shit."
"Zion? Fuck off," I growl.
He walks away, laughing to himself.
Emma looks like she's debating whether she wants to run after him.
I decide I should probably get this conversation back on solid ground before I scare her off entirely. "What is it you're needin' protection for, lamb?"
"You don't understand, Mr. Carmichael."
"Zayne."
"What?"
"My name is Zayne, baby girl."
"You don't understand, Zayne," she says, emphasizing my name in a way that makes me want to kiss the annoyed furrow from her brow. "Maybe you should listen to your brother more."
"Why? He never says anything interesting. He definitely didn't mention you being a client." That might be a lie, but I'm willing to risk my eternal soul here.
"Maybe because I'm not a client."
Thank God for small favors.
"Good. Then we can get the dating shit out of the way so I can put my ring on your finger." I grin, liking the way this is playing out. It's better than breaking the one rule my brothers and I agreed on when we started the firm. "Are you free tonight?"
