Page 58 of Fiercely Protective

“I don’t like what he represents.”

I took hold of Bri’s arm and began leading her to the car. “Blaze is afraid of bursting into flames should he get too close to anything religious.”

She smiled again, but it wasn’t directed at me, and it was beginning to piss me off that her demeanor had changed so suddenly.

“Well, we will miss you. Have a good evening, Blaze.”

I saw the slight tilt of his head and the smirk on his face and realized he was enjoying the fact that her sudden friendliness toward him was pissing me off.

“It seems as if you and Blaze are getting along better.”

Her lips quirked up slightly. “He is gruff and surly, but he grows on you after a while.”

I escorted her to the car and while I wanted to pull her to me, I kept my distance. If I touched her now, it would lead to me canceling dinner and going back to the penthouse where I would make her tell me what was bothering her, and I had already canceled on Michael enough. After what happened outside the church, I owed it to him to show up tonight. There would be time later to coax another smile out of my little angel.

Bri

I don’t know why overhearing Rogue on the phone saying that he married me just for protection, that love had nothing to do with it had upset me the way that it did. I shouldn’t be surprised. I had told myself that he would tire of me. I had told myself it was lust and desire I was feeling and at first it had been, but the fact that he held me after my terrible nightmare, and the gentle way he had kissed me made me hope for more.

This was ridiculous; how could I fall in love with a man like Rogue Delaney? I leaned my head against the window of the car as we drove through the city. My thoughts continued to drift. It was irrational and immature for me to think that this could be anything more. But if love was off the table, could I be contentwith just desire and lust? Would it ever be enough? I suppose it would have to be.

The car came to a stop outside of the church. “We are having dinner here?”

“Yes, Michael likes to cook almost as much as he likes to lecture me on frivolous spending at expensive restaurants.” He took my hand. “Don’t get excited. Most nights it is as simple as homemade pizza or pasta. He also makes a chicken and rice casserole from time to time.”

“In addition to the spaghetti suppers once a month?”

“Yes, the spaghetti suppers are for the congregation and the unfortunate in the community. Tonight will be just us. He invites me at least once a week, but I typically don’t have time for it. I’m sure he is more concerned about your welfare than seeing me. I am bound to receive another scolding about my behavior.” He opened the door and got out of the car, then held out his hand to assist me.

“I’m sure as your friend he is just concerned.”

Rogue rolled his eyes but before anything else could be said, Father Michael appeared.

“Well, I am glad to see that she hasn’t killed you yet.”

Rogue grinned. “The night is still young.”

Father Michael stepped forward and took my hand before leaning over and pressing a kiss to my cheek. “It is good to see you again, Mrs. Delaney.”

My eyes shot up at the unfamiliarity of the name.

“Still not used to being married, I see. You will get more accustomed to it.”

I smiled brightly, feeling a bit more myself again. “I’m not sure there will be enough time for that.” I glanced back at Rogue whose frown had become more pronounced then wrapped my arm through Michael’s. “I am told that you are an excellent chef.”

“Lies, all of them. I do enjoy cooking from time to time, but it is nothing to brag about. Tonight, since you are my special guest, I tried something different, chicken marsala. I hope you like it.”

“I’m sure I will love it.”

He escorted me inside the church. “Do you live here?”

“I have a small apartment in the basement. I find it is convenient.”

I felt Rogue’s presence behind me even before he spoke. “And sparse. I have offered him other options, but he refuses and continues to martyr himself by living in poverty.”

“I prefer a simpler life.”

My arm was still linked through his as we walked down the narrow passageway to the church basement. It was a typical basement, with stone walls, cold floors, and a tad bit damp and musty smell, but the living quarters that Father Michael had there, while plain and simple, also gave off a sense of peace, a sense of home.

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