Page 10 of Protected

Immediately, Hank sees the problem and grabs the wire, locking it back into place. “Ah, this is the issue right here. There’s a loose wire. Do you have your control panel?”

I reach for the pad on the island behind me and hand it toward him, studying his rough hand as he swipes over the screen.

God, I want him to touch me. I need his hands on me.

My clit throbs. I didn’t think this over. I should’vecutthe cord, then he’d have had to rewire everything. With this, he just had to hook things up and now he’s going to leave.

I don’t want him to leave. I need him to stay.

“That smells good.” He turns toward the oven, carrying his little, red toolbox beside him. “What are you making?”

“Oh, that’s eggplant parm. You ever had it?”

He shakes his head. “Don’t cook much for myself. Sounds like it would be good, though.”

So, there’s no one home cooking for him. Check.

“Maybe you could ask your girlfriend to make it for you sometime. The recipe is really easy.”

He laughs. “Yeah, I don’t do the whole dating thing. Haven’t in a while.”

No girlfriend. Double check.

“Really? I figured a guy like you would’ve broken every heart on the mountain already.”

Insulting him… triple check.Why did I say that?

Thankfully, he laughs. “Yeah, I don’t know… haven’t met the right girl. I’m really picky about who I spend my time with.”

Silence.Completesilence.

I blame it on him. I was clearly showing interest, and he didn’t reciprocate. I mean, why not ask about my life?Do I have a boyfriend? Who knows? He didn’t ask.

“Looks like you worked hard on the meal. You expecting company?”

Okay... maybe that’s his way of asking.

This seems like a natural spot to ask him to stay, but is that weird? Do people ask their security company to stay and eat? I mean, maybe they do, right? This is a close community. Maybe it’s not so weird.

Do it. Say it. Ask him to eat.

My clit is so bossy today.

“Okay,” I say out loud, squeezing my thighs together.

“What?” He looks confused.

“Oh, I was saying, okay then… no… I’m not expecting company, but I made way too much, and it’s gonna go to waste. If you want, I mean, I don’t want to bug you if you’re busy, but you’re more than welcome to stay.”

He drags in a deep breath and brushes his big hand over his beard.

I might die right here if this man says no.

“Yeah. I’d love a home-cooked meal.” He sets his box of tools on the ground. “What can I do to help?” His biceps inadvertently flex with his forearms as he moves past me into the kitchen.

I’m not going to make it through one meal. Who was I kidding? This was the dumbest plan ever. I should’ve been straight forward and sent a text about what I really wanted.

‘Dear Hank,

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