Page 50 of My Damaged Protector

“Hmmm. Stromboli with disco fries, Italian sub sandwich and crumb cake, chicken parmigiana with sausage and saltwater Taffy, which is it?” I list her favorite meal combinations I’ve noticed over the years.

“Okay, so you think you know me so well, huh?”

“I don't think, I know.”

“Oh!” She laughs. “And what if I've changed, Mr. IanI know Sarah so well?”

It's my turn to laugh now, and I do my best to suppress it.

Damn it. There's some sort of warm sensation going on in my chest.

“Well, have you?” I ask her with bated breath.

She doesn't speak for a while, but when she does, I don't miss the smile that's still in her voice. “I'll take stromboli and disco fries with crumb cake.”

“Just so you know, I mentioned stromboli and disco fries first for a reason.”

And now I'm boasting, I know.

“Get here in thirty minutes,” she says in response.

“I'll make it twenty. See you soon.”

“Yeah. Thanks. Please try to be careful with the paparazzi. I heard they've been outside the hotel all day.”

I will be. I don't think anyone would pay attention to a middle-aged man going into a hotel though, and I tell her that.

She sighs, and I almost think she's ended the call until she speaks just when I'm about to check.

“One day Ian, maybe you'll see yourself the way I see you.”

She ends the call, leaving a weird nagging feeling in my belly as I step out of my apartment to go get her food.

As she said, the front of the hotel is bustling with several media outlet representatives looking to get a shot of her. If I didn't see it myself, I wouldn't believe it. And with the number of people outside, you'd think Sarah is one big-shot celebrity.

Or maybe she is and my brain still hasn't caught up with the memo yet.

Damn it, Ian. Get out of your head.

She opens the door on the first knock, literally dragging me in and then closing the door immediately behind me.

I try not to comment on the ridiculousness of the whole situation, but it's hard not to so I decide to joke about it instead.

“Things continue at this rate, and you're going to need a bodyguard,” I say as I sit on the sofa in the room and place the food down. I immediately get started on taking the food out. I took the liberty of getting something for myself, too.

“You can have the job,” she says, coming to sit beside me.

I laugh. “Funny.”

“I wasn't joking.”

I turn so I can read her expression, and she looks pretty serious.

“Okay, you realize that I was joking, right?”

“Well, I wasn't.”

“Hmmm. Why?”

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