Page 38 of Billionaire Protector

So many reasons, which she could barely identify, much less reveal. She was frustrated, not at him but at herself, inexplicablyfrustrated for not being frustrated. Maybe it did make sense. When she was angry with him, she could forget all those other emotions he inspired. Like that she actually enjoyed being with him, wanted to spend time with him. Of course, she could never let him know that. “I’m just thinking,” she said honestly. “It was an eventful day.”

He nodded. “At least we came away with something.”

At this point she was just glad she came away with her shirt. For a while there, it seemed doubtful. “Do you remember the time we went to the Renaissance fair as kids?”

A ghost of a grin plied his lips. “I remember you volunteering me as the target for the pie thrower.”

Sarah smiled at hazy memories. “I had complete confidence in his abilities.”

“He was twelve years old.”

“A kid with a lot of experience.”

“Which he learned from playing video games.”

“He had great vision.”

“He was blindfolded!”

Sarah laughed. “It made it all the more exciting.”

“Don’t you remember what happened?” He tapped the wheel. “I never did fulfill my destiny as the pie thrower’s target.”

She did remember. She’d volunteered him for the position, but when he was actually up there with a performer whose skill was very much in doubt, something suspiciously akin to guilt hit her. She claimed to feel faint and dragged Cole off the stage before the first pie soared. She’d wondered if he ever knew her true motivation.

What else did he know about her?

He pressed the start button and the car rumbled to life. With his arm on the back of her seat, he carefully backed up. “You liked me even back then. You just didn’t want to admit it.”

She humphed. “Who says I like you now?”

“I do.” He switched the car into drive and smoothly glided forward. Pedestrians and other drivers waved warm farewells as he merged into traffic. “Don’t you remember that I know everything? You used to tell me that all the time.”

“I said youthoughtyou knew everything. There’s a difference.”

He shrugged, yet sparkling eyes gave him away. “Not to me.”

They drove in comfortable silence, punctuated by the occasional light comment. She relaxed into the plush seat but straightened when he turned off the main road a couple of miles before their destination. They traversed Harmony Creek’s small downtown, with cobblestone streets flanked by charming brick buildings, bright mom and pop restaurants and eclectic stores. Lush landscaping and brilliant flowers bordered the quaint town road. “Where are we going?”

Cole parked outside Andy and Annie’s Pizza Restaurant, named not for the dolls but for the coincidentally named husband and wife owners. With a red brick exterior, white awnings and wicker baskets overflowing with sunshine gold marigolds, the restaurant held a storybook appeal. “Dinner.”

He exited the car before Sarah could respond… or protest. This time she stayed in the car until he came around. And even when he opened the door, she still didn’t move. “We can’t go to dinner.”

He leaned against the doorframe, crossed his arms over his chest. As usual, his stance was pure challenge. “Why not?”

Because I’m starting to not hate you. I’m starting to like you. Perhaps even something more.She searched for an answer that wouldn’t reveal too much. “Because… you’ll be late for your shift. And I hear your boss is a real stickler about these things.”

He leaned down. “Actually, neither is true. My shift doesn’t start for two hours. As for my boss, she might pretend to be tough on the outside, but on the inside, she’s a softie.”

Sarah opened her mouth, then closed it. Tried to untangle the knot of warmth and indignation his words brought.

“Next excuse?”

“Hold on.” She frowned. “I’m thinking.”

He reached in and grasped her hand. “While you’re thinking, I’m going to be eating. Come on.”

She grumbled but allowed him to lead her into the restaurant. Despite the name, Andy and Annie’s Pizza was one of the classier establishments in town, decorated with hand-carved, whitewashed furniture, floral China dishes and antique lamps. Crisp white tablecloths covered round tables, each adorned with a small vase of flowers picked from Annie’s own garden. The tables were spaced for privacy, and lace curtains provided an intimate feel. Soft violin notes hummed from hidden speakers, and the scent of freshly baked bread filled the air.

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