Page 18 of Keeping Astrid

Behind the wheel wasn’t the chef. She was in the passenger seat. Driving the car was a man he hadn’t seen around her before. He definitely hadn’t been at the in-person event. Only a perky blonde who Pedro didn’t care about.

Fuck. Had she gotten herself a bodyguard?

Only one way to find out. Pedro raced to his car, adrenaline spiking within him. If she had a guard, it would make it harder to get to her, but he could get rid of the guy if he had to. He had means and ways to make sure he always came out on top.

Chapter Nine

“You’re gonna need to get some security cameras and an electronic gate at the front of your property.”

Astrid trailed behind Growler as he walked around her house, pointing out everything that was wrong with her place.

It was late, and she was tired. All she wanted to do was have a bubble bath, drink some sparkling water, and put on a show where she didn’t have to think or pay attention. Background noise instead of mind stimulation.

But no, she couldn’t do that because her bodyguard was picking apart the home that had been her safe haven for years. A place where she’d always felt secure and never worried about anyone breaking in.

Was that naïve considering her fame? Likely, but she did live in a gated community, so that had to be on the plus side.

“Are you almost done? Because I’d really like you to leave,” Astrid said as they were headed back downstairs.

Her home wasn’t large in terms of Hollywood, but it was spacious and had been perfect for her and her father. After his death, she’d thought about moving. Going to someplace that wasn’t steeped in memories, but then it hit her. She wanted those memories. Wanted to walk into the bedroom that her father had used and remember him reading in the big chair in the corner. When his illness had progressed and he’d needed full-time care, she’d asked him about getting a live-in nurse, but he’d told her he didn’t want her to stress too much and insisted on going into a facility that catered to people with his illness among others. She’d found the best one, and they’d provided him with top-notch care. She hadn’t needed to worry about a thing. But that didn’t mean she didn’t and wished that he was in her house instead of there.

“I’m not going anywhere. I’m staying here tonight. In the morning, I’ll call the office and find out if we have a company that provides security systems. I’m sure Ox will have one.”

“What? You can’t stay here,” she sputtered. Astrid hadn’t heard anything else he’d said after that little tidbit.

That wasn’t happening. No way. After the stressful shoot, she wanted her peace, and she wasn’t going to get that with him being in her house.

“It’s for your safety,” he replied patiently, as if talking down to a recalcitrant child—which she most definitely wasn’t.

Anger and annoyance flared to life, and she marched over to where he stood leaning against the kitchen counter as if he had been in her home a hundred times.

She poked him in his chest. “Listen to me and listen well. This is my home. I’m in a gated community. I don’t need you here annoying me. It’s bad enough that you’re at the studio. I. Don’t. Want. You. Here.” She punctuated each word with another poke of her finger.

Growler captured her hand and held it flat against his chest, right over his heart. Astrid stilled, all her anger disappearing as the flame of desire took over.

What was I thinking poking the bear—literally?

“How about you listen to me?”

Dammit, he was using his growly voice. Did he even know what a weapon that was? How it had the power to turn her into a puddle of goo?

Not happening.

“What?” Astrid lifted her chin in an act of defiance.

When she first met him, she may have been out of sorts, but now? Now she was in fight mode. She was fighting for her life to return to what it was before she’d made that visit to Skid Row. Where she hadn’t heard gunshots, racing feet, and squealing tires and come face to face with a dead body.

One corner of his mouth lifted in a half smile. Did he think this was funny?

The anger was back, and she pulled her hand out from under his, shoving it into her pant pocket in a desperate attempt to ignore the tingles coursing through the flesh.

“I’m here to protect you, Comet, so get used to it. And”—he paused, his lips stretched in a full-blown smile, one that she’d never seen before and boy was it lethal—“if you can’t stand the heat, get out of the kitchen.”

Words were impossible. Astrid had no idea what to address first—Comet—or the cliché he’d just used.

“Did you just use a cooking metaphor on me?”

Growler laughed, a deep laugh that strummed along her skin like fingers covering guitar strings. “I do believe I did.”

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