Page 42 of Not the Bodyguard's Princess
Jordan shook her head vigorously.
“Um, Princess doesn’t have any toys.”
Jordan dropped her hands and glared at him. “Hi, Grandma.”
“I wanted you to know I’m still in London. Anything new these past couple days? We haven’t talked.”
“Not much. Paul is stressed because we are behind schedule. One truck went to the wrong state. Apparently, the driver didn’t know Wisconsin and Michigan aren’t the same place.”
Claire’s laugh danced from the speakers. “I thought your generation wasn’t supposed to get lost with GPS.”
“Neither of us drive enough to know.” Jordan yawned.
“You sound tired. Call me tomorrow.”
“I will. Love you, Grandma.”
“Love you too, bunny. Thanks for letting us use your phone, Andrew. Watch over her for me.”
“I will.” The call ended, and Jordan shifted in her seat. “Sorry you had to answer for me. I really was asleep. She must have gotten your number from Blake.”
“Curious—why didn’t you want to talk with her?” Andrew asked. “Don’t answer that. It isn’t any of my business.” He needed to work on his client boundaries.
“It bothers you that we are friends, doesn’t it?”
Andrew passed a slow-moving semi-truck. There wasn’t a good answer. The truth was that every bit of his mind was rebelling against their friendship and what it meant for her safety. The nonlogical side of him wasn’t bothered one bit. And that scared him. “Is this a trick question? I feel like I don’t have a good answer. I’m your bodyguard. I’m not supposed to be your friend.”
“You are Princess’s bodyguard. You aren’t supposed to be her friend.”
“Yet a dog is man’s best friend, so you see my problem.” Andrew followed Adam and September’s vehicle off at an exit.
“No, I can’t say I do.”
With nothing to say to her response, they drove in silence to the gated community where September lived.
The baby, the dog, the luggage, and the diaper bags required several trips into the house to unload. Andrew stifled a laugh at the realization that the baby and dog each required as much stuff as the adult humans combined.
September and Harmony disappeared upstairs, leaving everyone else standing in the kitchen.
Adam helped himself to a glass of water. “I’m going to stay here for a couple hours. Mom, can you get a ride with Andrew?”
“Sure. Andrew, would you mind stopping by Alex’s? I found the cutest cheese T-shirt in a baby boutique. Little Clay doesn’t get spoiled as often as the triplets do.”
All five of his “niblings,” a term he’d learned from the internet for nieces and nephews, were plenty spoiled in his opinion—not that he would ever tell his mother.
“No problem.”
“Jordan, come with September to the house tomorrow for Sunday dinner. Abbie can’t make it, so we will have plenty of room.”
“I wouldn’t want to impose.”
Adam laughed. “Not possible. Mom is happy only when the house is full of noise. There’s no way you can make enough noise to even begin to replace two adults, three babies, and a chauffeur plus whatever bodyguard gets driveway duty.”
“Well, if you’re sure...”
Mom beamed. “Positive. Are you allergic to any foods?”
Jordan shook her head.
