Page 1 of Protected By the Billionaire Ex-SEAL

Chapter 1

Christian

I glance at the name lighting up the long bar where the drinks are displayed and the bartender is already hard at work. “Nashville Dream,” it says. It’s a nice bar and an impressive collection of drinks, but I don’t care what kind of bar I’m in because the goal is the same: to unwind the shit out of tonight after a long, tiring day.

“A beer, please. Extra cold. And a plate of whatever’s the special tonight.”

The bartender nods and rings up my order, beer first. I take a grateful sip, then think over the things I’ve accomplished in the limited hours I’ve been given. Taken a last-minute flight from Coronado to Nashville right after I just returned from London? Check.

Visited my sister and best friend—who are married now—and their kids after I missed out on the last two visits? Check.

Made a lot of calls to the right people so I could start looking for a piece of land here to expand my protection agency business? Check.

More calls to my broker about my old and new investments? Check.

Between all of that, I feel like I’ve gone back to my overachieving life and I don’t want to return to that—not when it made me miss out on a lot of moments in the past. So, the bar it is.

“You look like a tall glass of water. Would you mind terribly if I quenched my thirst with you?”

I choke on my sip, then meet the bartender’s eye as he passes by me. There’s amusement there for a second before he shuts it down, and I can imagine he’s witnessed this scenario too many times to count.

I glance out of the corner of my eye, noting the cute woman and the impeccably dressed man who’s eagerly trying to lean into her space. I don’t hear what she’s saying, but whatever it is, he lights up.

“I bet you that we’ll be having sex by the end of the night.”

Shit. The man’s got game, though I don’t think it’s the kind of game we all want to have. I bite back a laugh, but it dies when a plate is placed in front of me.

“What is this?”

The bartender shrugs. “House special. The chef was feeling adventurous.”

That’s an understatement. I stare at my salad with seafood and the weirdest-smelling cheese. Then I shrug, take the plate, and leave my stool, deciding that I’d rather sit at a corner table than listen to more of Mr. Rizz?—

Bang! Goes my plate before it falls to the ground, along with my beer. But it’s not the only casualty. There’s also the plate the other party is holding, then her red drink that’s now splattered all over her shirt.

My hands reach forward on instinct because I’m a huge guy and she’s just a bit on the tiny side. To my surprise, she holds her balance and doesn’t topple over.

But yeah, red splatter on the shirt. It’s a sparkly shirt, too.

“Shit. I’m sorry. That’s my fault. I was…” Eavesdropping on some one-liners. “I’ll pay for the shirt. And let me get you another drink.”

I expect her to rant at me for getting her all wet and dirty, as most women would. Hell, even some men. But she just raises a brow. “You should work on your pickup lines. That guy’s got you beat.”

Surprise has me staring at her, speechless, before I realize she’s no longer in front of me. I snap out of it and follow her back to the long bar, where she’s sitting, hailing for another bartender’s attention.

“Seriously, that sparkly shirt must be worth a fortune. Let me pay for it.”

“Actually, it’s a souvenir shirt and pretty cheap. So, no biggie.”

She shrugs, drawing my attention to her elegant shoulders and smooth, tanned skin. She has a smooth neck, too, and her head is gracefully swaying to the distant music’s beat.

“How about the drink, then? And the other thing you dropped?”

“Are you sure you want to replace all of them?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

I study her briefly. Her hair’s blonde and soft-looking, curly at the parts that aren’t tied in a braid, and her legs, encased in a denim skirt, are already proving to be a distraction. But it’s her amber eyes brightening at my confirmation that snag my attention the most.

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