“Excuse me?” She tilted her head sideways.
“I’m glad you told your father’s security detail I arrived, since they weremynext call. He was the one who hired me.”
Her mouth hung open. She was speechless.
Finally, she blinked. “But I…I…I don’t need a bodyguard.”
“I’m not a bodyguard.” I dumped the coffee cup into the sink, flinging her fridge open. “The term is close protection officer. Bodyguards are the brainless meatheads who carry your girlfriends’ Gucci bags for them while their photos are being taken.”
Truth was, I didn’t give one crap about my title. I simply wanted to establish I wasn’t one of the Chihuahua holding gym-rats she was used to for security. Testing my patience wasn’t going to end the same way. Then again, this debacle didn’t seem like a typical start for her either.
The fridge was stacked to the max with leafy greens, organic, gluten-free pizzas, and colorful cupcakes.
“Where’s the real food around here?” I asked.
“Define real food.” She massaged her temples, still processing.
“Something that was once alive, or a product of it. Something not made of useless carbs.”
“I’m vegetarian,” she announced.
Of course she is.
“Of course you are.”
“Meat is murder,” she said with conviction. Even though she still looked like she wanted to kill me, her shoulders slumped. She relaxed visibly, registering that, at the very least, I wasn’t there to murder her.
“It is also delicious. I’ll stock up the house tomorrow.”
I plucked a healthy grain bowl that looked suspiciously like something you’d give your pet parrot and stepped back.
She folded her arms over her chest, tilting her chin up defiantly. “You’ll stock up on nothing, which brings me back to our original conversation—I don’t need a bod…close protection whatever. Leave.”
“Tough luck Daddy thinks otherwise and he’s paying for all of this nonsense.” I kicked the fridge shut, motioning around us with a fork.
“You can’t do this.” She bared her teeth at me, ready for round two. I already knew she was ready to brawl if it came down to it.
“I can, and I am,” I said around a mouthful of a quinoa and chickpea salad.
“This is a breach of my privacy!” She slapped the granite kitchen island between us.
I shoveled more food onto the fork. “No offense, kiddo, but you couldn’t find your privacy if it were hand-delivered to you by Amazon. And for the record,” I paused to swallow my bite, “I don’t want to be here anymore than you want me to be. But your father offered me a six-month post, and I’m not going to let him down.”
“This is bullshit.” She flung her arms in the air.
“It’s what happens when you decide to show the world your tits,” I countered.
“Onetit,” she corrected.
“Let’s aim for none for the next half a year. Now, deal with the consequences of your behavior and suck it up. You’ll have to change your ways, or your father is going to extend the contract and I’ll unleash my colleague Kent on you. Fair warning: if you think I’m a teddy bear, wait till you meet this grizzly.”
“Youare the most horrific person I’ve ever met.” She bolted up from her seat. “And I want you out of my house.”
“I don’t work for you. I work for your father.”
“This is not how any of this works. It’s the twenty-first century!” She got in my face, so close I could smell her breath—peaches—and noticed that her eyes were an interesting shade of turquoise. Silver dots swirled around her irises. There was something rather innocent about her. Something that told me she wasn’t fully-baked. That the world had not tarnished her completely.
“It’s the twenty-first century, and people are still inheritably bad, and want to harm and/or use loved ones of influential people. Which is why I’m here to help,” I reminded her calmly, finishing the bird food bowl and tossing it into one of the fuckingfivetrashcans. This woman did not mess around when it came to recycling.