Page 21 of Bad For A Weekend

“Oh my God, did you hear Katina got dumped today?” Ziggy erupts into a fit of infectious giggles as he slides into the SUV.

Owen stands next to the door, taking my crutches and not making eye contact while I climb in. He’s been this way for days now, and my feelings are hurt. I thought after he took me to his safe place and talked me down from my embarrassing panic attack, he would lighten up a little, maybe act human and drop this robot act he’s got going on. I was wrong.

If anything, he’s more guarded and detached than before. And if I’m being honest, it probably hurts because, somehow, I’ve developed a crush on him. I connected with him that day when he went from being a ridiculously cute bodyguard to this human being who saw something in me no one else has.

I ignore him and focus on my bestie. “Even better, I was there.”

“Did Brandon really tell her she was a clingy bitch?”

“Oh yeah. It was so cringe.” I turn slightly and rest my foot on Ziggy’s lap.

“I’d kill to see the look on her—”

“That’s not safe,” Owen interrupts, gaining both of our attention.

“What?” I ask, unsure of what he means.

“Sitting with your back against the door and your foot up like that. It’s dangerous. If we were in a car accident, you could get hurt.” His knitted brows and intense brown eyes fill up the rearview mirror.

“It’s fine,” I say and turn back to Ziggy. “You’re in luck because I caught it on my phone.”

“Let me see.” He holds out his hand, and I unlock the phone before setting it in his palm.

He watches the footage, laughing in a way that vibrates through his whole body. I grin, loving how much joy this is giving him. But then I notice the car isn’t moving. Glancing out the window, I see we’re still in front of the school, with cars honking and swerving to get around us.

“Owen,” I snap. “You’re holding up traffic.”

“It’s not safe for you to sit like that,” he says again, and I realize this asshole is going to stay here until I remove my foot from Ziggy’s lap.

“What the hell’s up with you today?” I set my foot on the ground.

“What’s my job, Baylor?” he deadpans.

The principal is walking our way. The last thing I want to do is explain to him why my driver won’t move. We’ll be here for the next hour while he describes how the pick-up line works in layman’s terms that will make my skin crawl.

“You got your way. You can go now.”

“What’s my job?” he asks again with no sense of urgency.

“Clearly, it’s not driving because you’re not doing any of that right now.”

His eyes remain locked on me through the mirror, one brow now arched, daring me not to answer his question. But my ego doesn’t want to give him the satisfaction.

The principal’s nearly to our car now, and my anxiety pitches. “It keeps me safe. There. I said it. Now move.”

“Thank you,” he says and pulls into traffic a millisecond before the principal raps on his window.

Ziggy chortles. “That was intense.”

I elbow him in the rib. “Shut up.”

He leans in close. “Why do I feel the urge to call him Daddy after that?”

“Oh my God, you’re an idiot,” I admonish. Except there’s a fluttering low in my belly that tells me I felt the carnal stirring from his domineering words too.

Oh no. This can’t be happening.

I already find Owen stupidly gorgeous, and after whatever it was we shared the other night, I care about him and am curious about his story. And now we’re adding sexual chemistry to that trifecta of attraction, and it’s for my freaking bodyguard. Someone completely unattainable.

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