Page 21 of Taming Scarlet

I finished two ginger ales, and my stomach seemed to settle enough for me to roll over and get some sleep.

I passed out feeling just slightly less alone than usual.

Because at least the bodyguard gave a shit. Even if he was being paid to do it.

I woke up to something I wasn’t sure I’d ever smelled in my apartment.

Food cooking.

“Ugh,” I grumbled, pressing a hand to my stomach, not sure I’d ever be able to keep food down after all that sick. “Hugh?” I called, finding the other side of my bed empty.

What time was it?

I rolled over and reached for my phone, ignoring the notifications for the first time in a long time.

Eleven.

Late.

But it had been a rough night.

I made my way into the bathroom, washing my face, pulling back my hair, then throwing on some yoga pants and an oversized sweatshirt before making my way into the common area of the apartment.

And there he was.

Sexy bodyguard guy.

Jacket off.

His black shirtsleeves rolled up.

Standing over an oven I actually didn’t know worked since I’d never turned it on.

I wasn’t even sure where the frying pan he was using came from. Maybe the woman I’d hired to help me decorate had purchased that kind of thing as well.

“There you are, buddy,” I cooed at Hugh who was sitting in the opening to the kitchen, his gaze fixed on the bodyguard, likely completely at a loss for what was going on in his home, why there were yummy smells coming from that big metal thing.

“He’s been out. And fed,” the guard said, not bothering to look over at me.

“Oh, ah, thanks,” I said, feeling like I was tripping over those words.

“Sit,” he demanded, waving to the stool on the other side of the island.

That was bossy of him.

I normally would have bristled, sassed him, something. Anything but actually doing what he demanded.

Somehow, though, my feet were carrying me across the space, and I lowered down onto the stool.

He’d set out a plate and utensils for me.

As well as a big bottle of water.

Once I sat, he turned toward me, grabbed a large electrolyte packet, ripped it open, and poured it into my bottle of water before giving it a good shake.

Did I watch his forearm muscles twist as he did that? Yes, yes I did.

“Drink,” he demanded after slamming it down right by my hand.

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