Page 26 of Vengeful Guard

She flushes red and stands up, taking the plate with her. I just watch her go, going back to my breakfast.

I’m still a little shaken up by thinking about her body earlier.

What the hell is wrong with me? It must be because I haven’t gotten laid in a long time.

I told her the truth when I said I don’t have girls on missions. When I’m working, all my focus needs to stay on what I’m doing. No distractions, no play.

Besides, when I’m home, I tend to book the same girls, go to the same clubs to keep myself safe. I may not want a relationship, but I do enjoy myself with the girls I usually go for, and I made it a point to learn what they like too, so it’s a win-win all around.

With strange women in other cities, it’s a game of roulette what you might get. No, thanks.

So, having been away for a long-term mission and only in town for two weeks, I haven’t had time to play yet, and maybe I’m just hard up.

Paige goes back to her room, and it's a couple of hours before she comes downstairs, wearing a pair of high-waisted shorts and a crop top. “I’m going to my friend’s house.”

I stand up, throwing on a T-shirt and slipping my shoes back on.

She frowns. “What are you doing?”

“Going with you.”

“Oh, no.” She huffs. “You’re not following me to my friend’s house. She’s literally just down the street.”

“Then I'll be down the street.”

Her brows furrow deeper. “What, in your stupid car?”

“Don’t say that about Bessie.”

“Bessie? You named your car Bessie?”

“She’s my old reliable.” I puff out my chest. I love that ride. “I got her when I was nineteen, and she’s served me well all these years.”

“The car’s that old?” Her eyes widen. “It seems brand new.”

“Aye. Old Bessie’s had some work done.”

She giggles, high-pitched and cute, and I can’t help but grin back.

As much as bubbly, exuberant Paige has always annoyed me, it’s been a little disconcerting to see her so dimmed.

She clears her throat. “Fine, but you’re staying in the car.”

I nod, grabbing a paperback and sticking it in my pocket as I grab my jeans.

She pauses at the door. “What’s that?”

I glance at the spine of the book. “It’s a mystery. Kind of a horror novel.”

Her eyes widen. “Which one?”

“Not sure.” I shrug. “Something about missing teenagers and train tracks?—”

“Is it the one where that great couple solves mysteries, and one of them always thinks it’s supernatural and the other doesn’t? Kinda like?—”

“The X-files,” I finish, and she stares at me like either I’ve gone crazy, or she has.

“I can’t believe you read that kind of stuff.” She pauses. “I can’t believe you read.”

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