Page 70 of The Billionaire Bodyguard Next Door

“We aren't open yet,” Chloe, one of my bartenders, called out.

I looked up to find a man walking into my space.

Beck.

Beck was here and Carter dissolved from my thoughts. “What are you doing here?”

He showed off a distinctive pink cardboard box. “Alice wanted me to drop off some donuts. She said it would make you happy with me.”

“Wait—” I thought back to the little scene from this morning. “Was Alice at the house?”

“Yup. Witnessed everything from the bay window in her room. Luckily she wasn't privy to all the pretty expletives you used, but she is old enough to understand body language.”

“Oh, shit,” I mumbled as I sank back into my seat. Some things were meant to not be witnessed—or overheard—by children. I’d have to be more mindful of little ears.

A bemused Beck slid into the booth next to me, and I took a second to admire the view.

He'd showered and changed. And smelled like heaven.

My breath hitched, and I spoke to cover it up. “Couldn't you pay a delivery driver to drop this off?”

He shrugged, slinging his arm over the bench behind me. If I leaned back, we’d be touching.

“You said you were getting a therapist, and you called me a DILF and then proceeded to walk out of my house. Of course I came to find you.”

My head whipped around the room, trying to make sure nobody would overhear us. I could be vocal about my wants and needs without having them broadcasted to my entire team.

Then I twisted in my seat to face him, face softening. This man tracked me down because he cared. That felt big. “I had fun the other night until I didn’t. I want to do it again some time, preferably with a more satisfying ending.”

Beck hissed. “Fuck, hearing you say it aloud makes it real.”

I swallowed, and with the willpower of a saint, I scooted back, Beck’s outstretched hand sweeping the back of my neck.

Beck frowned, but didn’t stop me. Then, he said, “I want to take you on a date.”

I blinked. “And here I thought you just wanted to fuck me.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I absolutely want to fuck you but that’s not going to happen. Not for a while if the other night was any indication, and I’m fine with that. Let me be clear about something, I don’tjustwant to fuck you.”

Something like hope blossomed in my chest.

He leaned in. “I want to get to know you. All of you.”

I crossed my arms, figuring I’d make him work for it. “Where, pray tell, do you plan to take me on this hypothetical date?”

He lifted a finger. “One, this isn’t hypothetical. Iwillbe taking you on a date.”

“So presumptuous.” I kind of loved it.

“Two,” he said, ignoring my quip, “you leave the planning up to me. I’ll pick you up tomorrow at six. Dress casually.”

“Tomorrow is Friday. I have work.”

“Take it off.”

My eyebrow rose.

“Not likethat,” he huffed.

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