Page 27 of Smith

“How do I look?” he challenged.

“Like you’re not sure you want me staying with you.”

He shook his head.

“I left you alone in your house last night, knowing someone had followed you from the hotel.”

I didn’t understand the repugnance I heard. It wasn’t like he knew I was in imminent danger and left me to it. Or worse, didn’t care and went home to watch some TV.

“I don’t?—”

“I left you alone, Aria,” he cut in. “I left because I wanted to stay. I left so what happened ten minutes ago wouldn’t happen. I left you unprotected.”

I took him in, this time carefully doing my best to figure out if this was an over-the-top protective guy thing or if there was something else behind his self-condemnation.

“I don’t understand where this is coming from so I’ll tread carefully here, but you didn’t leave me unprotected. I’m more than capable of protecting myself. I’m not some helpless female. I don’t need you or anyone babysitting me. I don’tneeda safehouseorto stay with you. Saying that, I’m not going toargue if you feel you need to do something, but don’t mistake my willful compliance with necessity or weakness.”

The change in Smith was minute, yet I still caught it along with the tiny tic in his jaw.

“So, you’re good with the change of plans?” he abruptly asked.

Sensing he wasn’t going to address anything I said, I answered, “Sure. But I’m following you to your house. I have to be back here tomorrow at six for a delivery.”

“No need. I’ll be here with you.”

Oh boy, the needle was approaching the red zone of my patience.

“Really, Smith, you don’t need to hang around and watch me work all day.”

“Checked the postage on the letters you gave me. You said every two weeks you get a letter. Times up on that and I want to be here when the mailman gets here.”

Whatever.

There was no use arguing. He was going to do what he wanted to do no matter what I had to say.

“Fine,” I snapped. “But you need to stay out of my way. And I’m filming tomorrow’s work, which means you can’t be upstairs.”

He ignored me and glanced down at the box.

“You good putting this up by yourself?”

I fought the urge to roll my eyes.

“Yes, Smith,” was my verbal response. In my head I included, ‘little ol’ me can handle a floodlight.’

His lips twitched and it was unfortunate he could look hot when I was annoyed with him.

“Smart ass,” he mumbled.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t have to, baby, it’s written all over your face.”

I didn’t argue against that, either, since I figured he wasn’t wrong. I wasn’t someone who attempted meaningless things like hiding what I was thinking or feeling.

When he didn’t move to leave me to get back to work, I asked, “Are you planning on watching me or are you going to let me get this floodlight up so I can get on with my day. I’d like to get out of here before bridge traffic starts. Sitting on the bridge for an hour would delay chicken piccata and orgasms.”

Smith’s mood shifted back to his happy-go-lucky-flirty demeanor.

---