Page 9 of Sweet and Salty

“Did this really just happen by coincidence?” she asks, tipping her head to look up at me since I’m so much taller than her, even in those heels she wears. “Silver?” she whispers.

“That's me,” I say with a little smirk. “I have to admit, you really undersold the view out there in the courtyard where you eat your lunch. Is that where Gregory comes for breakfast and dinner?”

Her full, pouty lips part, and she shakes her head, looking at me with unbelieving eyes. “No, he comes to the back exit door,” she answers, eyes a little distant. “What are the odds of this?”

“What are the odds I've been trying to meet you in person for two months and your father just happens to hire me as your security detail?” I shrug. “Pretty fucking slim. But I'm not mad about it.”

“I don't know what to say,” she says.

“I understand,” I say. “And if you're uncomfortable with this setup, you need to tell me now. I already found six weak security points here alone, so I'll need to be thorough in my brief to any replacement.” Fucking hell, it would be nearly impossible to put her safety in someone else’s hands, but I have to respect her decision on this.

“My father and his team said you were the best.”

“They’re correct in that assessment,” I say. “I’ve worked as a contractor for three years now, over a dozen different security detail cases, three of them involving stalkers. I’ve never failed or lost a client.”

She purses her lips, looking impressed, and fuck me if that doesn’t make pride swell in my chest.

“Are you uncomfortable with this?” she asks, her voice softening. “I mean, I'd get it. Especially after what happened at the club, and then our texting…situation.”

I chuckle, shaking my head. “There are very few situations that make me uncomfortable, Kitten,” I say. “But I can keep things professional. If you want me as your detail, all you have to do is say so. I'll completely understand if there's a conflict of interest here putting you off, though.”

Her eyes trail the length of my body, an assessing look that she finally allows herself, no doubt taking in every detail that’d been hidden by my costume that night two months ago. She hesitates on the tattoos that snake up my neck and decorate my arms, and I wonder what she’d think of all the ones she can't see right now.

Slowly, she smiles and shakes her head. “If you can get past the completeridiculouscoincidence of the situation, then I can too.”

I nod at her, doing my best to ignore the utterreliefthat swarms through me. “I'll certainly do my best.”

CHAPTER 4

Zoe

Aweek passes with Silver—Owen—spending almost every waking minute within twelve feet of me.

He's at my practice before I am in the mornings, and does all sorts of sneaky security things during the day, only to follow me home until he's sure I'm locked up safe for the night.

I'd been worried about the security detail my father hired being a distraction, butOwen?

There is no bigger distraction than him.

An incredibly gorgeous, intimidating, knows-how-to-make-me-shiver-in-the-best-ways distraction.

I knew from that night on the roof two months ago that he was tall and had muscles for days, not to mention being well-endowed in other areas, but I’d never seen his face. Never got a chance to look into his glacial blue eyes or see the way his dark brown hair falls just slightly over them.

I never got a chance to know he had tons of ink decorating his skin, including whirls of black that traced the right side of his neck, disappearing beneath the simple black T-shirts he liked to wear. I hate how curious I am to see where exactly that tattoo goes beneath the fabric. Hate that I’m both thrilled and sad that my security detail turned out to be him. I haven’t been able tofind a balance since he walked through my door. Haven’t figured out how to behave around him when last week I’d been flirting with him over text and contemplating finally meeting up with him in person.

Last week, I’d sent an email to all my patients, informing them of the situation and the reason behind Owen’s presence. I assured them the practice was still a safe space, but if they were uncomfortable, we could conduct our sessions over Zoom. Luckily, no one has complained or sought council elsewhere.

Two of my regular clients opted for the Zoom sessions, but the rest were perfectly content to come in, and Owen is exceptional about making himself scarce during my appointment times. It’s actually super endearing that he makes an effort to check my schedule every morning to ensure he never accidentally bumps into a patient, likely because he doesn’t want to scare them. Not that I'm sure theywouldbe scared. Sure, he’s practically a muscly tattooed giant, but his eyes are kind in a way that puts me at ease.

Well, most of the time. Other times, like when we accidentally touch when walking past each other, it’s all I can do tonotthink about that night.

Think about the way my body reacted to his.

How it still very much reacts to him even from an innocent, accidental graze, or just getting a whiff of his delectable scent, all pine smoke and sagebrush. I try to check myself, but I’m having a hell of a time separating Owen into the professional category in my mind. I know I need to, but it feels damn near impossible.

“I finished installing the new security system,” Owen says as he lingers outside of my open office door, drawing my attention from where I've been trying desperately to focus on next week's schedule behind my desk.

“Thank you,” I say, swallowing hard as I look at him.

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