Page 58 of Protecting Hailey

“Yes. I get my exercise done and half my emails answered by the time you get up. It’s perfect.”

I smirked. “See. We’re a perfect match.”

He bit his bottom lip. “Yeah, I think so.”

With one last kiss, he pushed off and turned to open the refrigerator. Sticking his head inside, he asked, “The usual?”

“Yup. Why change a good routine?”

“Nothing wrong with routine, darling. It’s my M.O.”

“That’s for sure. I noticed you hang up all your clothes and organize them by color. Even your shoes are stored in a row in the closet.”

“Mmm-hmmm,” he said as he cracked an egg into a bowl and then another.

“Have you always been like that?”

“Like what?”

“Obsessed with keeping things neat.”

He shrugged. “For as long as I can remember. If I wasn’t born that way, my father made sure I became that way.”

“How strict was he?”

“He never resorted to violence or anything like that. I had lots of space growing up, but he was particular about how his house was run and which choices I made for my future.”

“When do you think I’ll meet him?” The question came out before I realized its implications. It was too soon to ask such a question. Christian stopped scrambling the eggs and shrugged again. “I’m not sure. He lives on the East Coast like me.”

He lives on the East Coast like me.

I hadn’t even thought about our living arrangements. Would he be up to moving to California? How long was he hired to work as my bodyguard?

“Christian, I never asked you. How long is your contract for? I never asked my mother.”

He stirred some milk into the egg while he contemplated my question.

“I signed a three-month contract. We’re going to revisit it when the time’s up.”

“Three months?”

That only left another six weeks or so.

“Yes. But Hailey, I understand how that’s all changed now.”

“You do?” my chest lightened.

“Of course. What’s happening between us changes everything. We need to talk about where we’re going to live and how this is going to work between us. But we have time. We don’t have to get into it now.”

“Right.” His words made sense, but for some reason, it still bothered me knowing that he lived on the other side of the country.

“What are your plans for today?” he asked, pouring the mixture onto a hot pan.

I shook my head. “I’m sorry. I haven’t even helped you with breakfast. I’ll put the bread in the toaster. Juice, okay?”

“Juice is perfect.” He kissed me before grabbing a wooden spatula to scramble the eggs.

I put four slices of bread into the toaster and poured two glasses of juice. “Um, no plans for today. I’m completely free. What about you?”

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