Page 85 of Save Me

“I—”

I stare at her, too, daring her to say it’s untrue. Her mouth opens and closes a few times before she finally tells him, “We’re picking up some items for dinner.”

“What are you having?” LB, Mia and Brutus’ nine-year-old daughter, asks, her arms still wrapped around Kennedy’s waist.

“I don’t know,” Kennedy admits as she looks at me. “What are we having?”

“That’s a surprise.”

She snorts. “I should’ve known.”

“You’re letting him make you food, and you don’t even know what it is?” Brutus asks in a harsh voice.

I see his wife roll her eyes out of the corner of my eyes.

“Do you think there’s something she should be afraid of?” I ask.

“Oh no,” I hear Kennedy and Mia say beside me.

“Brutus, we have to get LB home before it starts raining,” his wife comments.

I don’t miss the way she tugs at his arm.

“What the hell did you say?” Brutus takes a step in my direction.

“It was great seeing you, Uncle Brutus.” Kennedy throws her arms around him in a hug before kissing his cheek.

My hands tighten into fists at the sight of her in another man’s arms. Yes, he’s basically her family. He’s known her since she was a little, so my thinking is absurd. But does that make me untighten my fists?

Absolutely not.

My hand only loosens when she’s back at my side. My arm around her waist, holding her firmly to me.

Brutus notices but doesn’t say anything, likely because his wife and daughter are busy reminding him that he promised to help them set up her new dollhouse tonight after dinner.

Kennedy watches as they walk away. Brutus’ glare is still evident even from twenty feet away.

She groans and turns to me. “He’s our family’s head of security, and … well, he’s family,” she says. “As overprotective as the rest of them.” Her voice is almost apologetic.

I kiss her nose because it’s getting harder and harder to keep my lips off her when she’s in my presence.

“You deserve nothing less,” I tell the truth.

Yes, I know how protective the men in her family are. Nothing I know about them is enough to scare me away, though.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” I tell her.

She snorts. “You haven’t met my father yet,” she mutters under her breath.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.” She glances up at the sky. “Aunt Mia was right. I think it’s going to rain.”

I offer to let her wait in the car while I go to the multiple stands and merchants to pick up the ingredients for the meal I plan to make. She turns down that offer and opts to stick by my side as I make my way through the vendors at the farmers’ market.

It takes half an hour before I can get everything I need. The rain started about halfway into our shopping, and the last few items required a trip to a few vendors in the market’s open-air section.

It’s pouring by the time we make it to the parking lot. Once we’re inside of the car, we’re both soaked.

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