Page 43 of When He Protects

My dick could not salute her more.Dammit.

“You just need one more thing.” Tyler slammed the glove box closed and dug into his pocket. A few seconds later, he had the ring in his hand. A simple gold band. Actually, two of them. One for him. One for her. He reached for her fingers.

“It’s so sudden,” she demurred.

“Cute, Esme.” He slid the ring into place.

Before he could put his on, she took it from him. She pushed it onto his left ring finger.

For some reason, his chest got a little tight.

“Guess we’re official now?” Her smile flashed at him.

Killer smile.His gaze swept carefully over her face. “Your nose is different from the way it looked back in Paris.”

Her smile dimmed. “Different bad or different good?”

“Don’t know that there could ever be anything bad about how you look. You’re beautiful, Esme.”

Her hand slid from his. Her index finger ran down the bridge of her nose. “Don’t know how much you recall, but my nose was broken. That probably was why so much blood was on my face. I’m sure when you saw me, my nose had to be horribly swollen. Maybe twisted. No worries, it was one of the first things the doctors fixed for me.” She grabbed for the passenger door handle.

“Sometimes, it’s easier to fix the stuff on the outside.”

Her knuckles whitened around the handle. “Are you saying that you think I’m broken inside? Because that’s not a very kind thing to tell a woman. Hardly charming.”

“I don’t think there is anything broken about you.”Quite the contrary. She might just be one of the strongest people he’d ever met.

She cleared her throat. “Elizabeth.”

She’d lost him. “Excuse me?”

“I think that, instead of being called Esme, when we’re in public, you should call me Elizabeth. I know the general routine is to keep first names, if possible, when you’re in witness protection, but I think Esme might stand out a bit too much. We’ll have to be sure and tell your sheriff buddy about the change. I’ll be Elizabeth from here on out.”

Okay, first, she was wrong about the general routine. “You don’thaveto keep your first name. You can. Or you can change it. Your choice. I’ll call you whatever the hell you want. But you have to be able to answer to the name. I can’t be shouting Elizabeth, and you just walk past me, humming.”

“I won’t walk past you.”

He didn’t think she would.

“But I will still be Esme to you,” she added quickly. “This is just a public thing. In private, I’m your Esme. Because I absolutely love the way you say my name. Makes me want to jump you.”

“Esme—”

A shiver slid over her. “Not now. We have paint and groceries to buy, lover. Save it for later.” She shoved open the door.

He climbed from the vehicle, too. Took his time walking to her side. And when they were close, he leaned in and rasped near her ear, “How many times do I have to tell you, don’t play with me?”

“And how many times do I have to assure you…I’m not playing?”

“Tellme again why you insisted we get so much black paint.”

Esme tossed angel hair pasta into the buggy. “Because it’s like the song goes, ‘I see a red door and my black heart wants it painted black.’” She snagged pasta sauce. Nodded in approval before putting it in her buggy. Then she continued strolling down the aisle.

“I don’t think that’s how the song goes,” he assured her.

“No? Probably close enough though, yes?” She paused in front of the coffee. “Okay, what is the best for your black-coffee-loving self?”

He snagged his favorite coffee. Tossed it in the buggy and was oddly warmed that she’d remembered he needed it.

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