Page 201 of Papa's Bébé
“Well, all’s well that ends well,” she said. “At least, I hope the puppies are all right. I know they got them out, but I’ll need my phone to check in with them. I’ll also need to contact my insurance.”
“We’ll get your insurance stuff sorted. Tell me where the paperwork is and I’ll get Ink onto it. You don’t need to worry about that right now. What we have to worry about is keeping you safe.”
And he could use this time to convince her that she needed him.
“How will you pay your bills and stuff?” she asked him.
“You’re worried about me?”
Her face hardened. “Of course not. Why would I worry about you?”
Oh, she might think she was doing a good job of being tough, but she really wasn’t.
Reaching out, he ran a finger down her cheek. She shivered.
Yeah, someone liked his touch.
She also liked when he called her his good girl. Something he’d have to do more often, because he liked seeing her melt.
“You don’t have to worry about me. I already told you I’m staying with you no matter what. Money isn’t an issue. I have plenty of savings. I have very few expenses.”
And some of those savings would need to now go toward an animal-friendly property. Perhaps one with a large expanse of land, as he had a feeling that if she had the room, she would expand her menagerie.
“It just doesn’t feel right that you work for free,” she told him.
Her mask was slipping. Just a bit more and it would be gone. And it was up to him to make certain it didn’t return. At least, not around him.
“It wouldn’t be if I was working. But I don’t consider taking care of you work.”
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Something had changed.
She wasn’t sure how or exactly when, but Matthieu was acting odd.
You haven’t known him that long. Maybe this is normal for him.
But it wasn’t normal to volunteer to be someone’s bodyguard for free. He was risking his life taking care of her . . . and for what?
For her sparkling wit and company?
Huh.
And what did he mean that taking care of her wasn’t work?
Right now, she felt like she was far more trouble than she was worth. The numb was supposed to help her get through this. Instead, it kept slipping away as though it couldn’t survive under his warm gaze.
He’d started driving again and she found herself just staring at him.
“What is it, Bébé?”
“I don’t know if you should call me that.”
“Why not?”
“Um, well, it’s not . . . I’m not . . . shoot.” She couldn’t get her words out.
“You’re not what? My client? No, you’re not.”
