Page 30 of Vengeful Guard

Not until I open Sophie’s front door and get a front row seat to Kael reading on his car still.

My heart should not be skipping a beat like this at the sight of him. Or maybe I’m just drunk and not even my heart can work straight.

Yes, that’s what I’m going to stick with because there’s no way that Kael, grump extraordinaire, makes me feel anything other than hate.

Right?

9

KAEL

This book is amazing, and I’m fully immersed in the story, so I nearly jump out of my skin when the passenger side door is almost torn from the hinges.

Paige gets into the car with a huff.

I put the book away. I started it when she walked inside her friend’s house and was able to read almost the whole thing as I waited for her.

I grimace. “Oh, princess, you reek of vodka.”

“So what?” There’s only a slight slur in her voice, but from the wafting alcohol scent, they must have had a few drinks, to put it mildly. “I have you to drive me home. I’d usually just walk.”

“Not now, you won’t. Not like that.” I scoff as I start the car to drive the short distance back to her house. “And I’m not judging. I just think vodka is the worst choice of liquor.”

She looks over at me. “What's your drink of choice?”

“Tequila with salt and an orange slice.”

“An orange slice? Not a lime?”

“Never a lime.” I shudder at the thought of it.

“Don’t tell me you don’t like lime. That cuts out so many things! Like guacamole! And margaritas! And you like tequila!”

“Not margaritas. I actually like the taste of the liquor, not a bunch of mix.”

“That’s gross. You’re gross.”

I park the car and turn off the engine. “Whatever you say, little princess.”

I expect her to lash out, bite my head off and tell me not to call her that again, but she doesn’t.

She opens her door, gets out of the car, and heads to the front door, stumbling a bit as she gets to the doorway.

I follow closely behind her. “Have you eaten anything but breakfast today?”

Paige shakes her head.

I groan and take her inside, sitting her down at the breakfast nook and making her a sandwich.

“That’s why you’re drunk,” I scold her. “You have to actually have something on your stomach before taking shots.”

“Wasn’t shots.” She frowns. “Just a couple of vodkas with orange juice.”

“More vodka than juice, I bet.”

She just sits there, silent and unmoving, and I glare at her, jerking my head.

“Take a bite.”

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