Guarded by a Protective Vet Read Online Hope Ford

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Bad Boy, Insta-Love, Novella, Suspense Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 23483 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 117(@200wpm)___ 94(@250wpm)___ 78(@300wpm)
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He touches my shoulder. “Maya, stop it. Talk to me. What did I do? I hate that you’re mad at me.”

I shrug. “I’m not mad at you. Can we please forget it? I’m fine.” I push back from my desk and stand up, moving into the kitchen. “Are you hungry? I’m going to fix a snack.”

He stands up and walks toward me. I should have known he wouldn’t just let me do something on my own. No, Legend is super helpful and is always willing to jump in and do his part. Even if it means kissing me to make me stop rambling and making a fool of myself.

“What are we having?”

I open the fridge. “How about fruit and cheese?”

He nods. “I’ll cut the fruit up.”

I hand it to him, making sure that our hands don’t touch. I still my nerves, determined to make the best of this. “So any leads on who’s stalking me?”

He grabs a knife and starts cutting up the strawberries and the banana. “Nope. Cerberus is working on it from Montana, and he has Walker’s people here working on it. He’ll mess up, and we’ll get him.”

He’s trying to reassure me, and I don’t bother telling him he doesn’t have to. Before he got here, I was a nervous wreck and couldn’t concentrate on anything. At least now I’m able to work, even if it is to write crappy sex scenes.

I grab the cheese out of the refrigerator and set it on a little tray. As I gather crackers and cream cheese dip for the strawberries, I try to keep my distance from Legend. “So where is home, Legend?”

He opens his mouth and closes it really fast before he shrugs. “I don’t know. I haven’t lived anywhere permanently. I plan on settling down soon, though.”

Don’t ask. Don’t ask, I tell myself, but of course I don’t listen. “Oh yeah? Where are you going to settle down? Can you do that with your job?”

He shrugs as he washes the strawberries. I wish I could see his face, but his back is to me and his head is down. “I’ll be moving here, I think. I like Whiskey Run.”

Stunned, I come to stand next to him. “But you haven’t even seen it. Well, the grocery store is it. It’s a small town, Legend. I don’t know if you know what you’re getting yourself into. Everyone knows everyone’s business, and I’m sure the night life is nothing compared to what you’re used to.”

He puts the strawberries in the bowl with the cut-up banana and slides it beside me before sitting down at the table. “It sounds perfect to me.”

I sit down across from him. “But—”

He laughs. “Are you trying to talk me out of it, Maya?”

“What? No, of course not. I’m just surprised, I guess.”

He gestures to me. “You seem to like it well enough.”

I stab a piece of fruit with my fork. “Yeah, but you live this exciting life, traveling the world, meeting new people, and doing what you want when you want. I can’t picture you staying in one place for too long.”

His gaze on me is intense, and I fidget in my seat. I’ve never had a reaction to another man like I do to him, and I’m not sure what to do about it. He pops a slice of banana in his mouth. “I dunno. Since I got here, things are different. I want to be different.”

“Why? What do you mean?”

He measures me with a look, searching my eyes, and then shakes his head. “I’m just ready to settle down.”

I deflate a little, and I’m not sure why. Was I expecting him to tell me that since meeting me two days ago, he’s fallen in love with me and can’t leave? Right, I live in a fantasy world for sure.

We eat in silence, but at least now it’s a comfortable silence. It’s not until we’re almost done with the food that he asks me again, “So are you going to tell me about the clit licker?”

I practically choke on the strawberry in my mouth, and he’s holding his hand at my back as if he’s about to beat the fruit out of me if need be. I inhale and mutter, "I'm all right."

He’s staring at me, and I know he’s not going to just forget it. “It’s no wonder they don’t take returns. It doesn’t work.”

His eyebrows lift, but I continue. I might as well get it all out there so we can be done with this conversation. “Yeah, it doesn’t work. Or I’m broken.”

He reaches for my hand. “You’re not broken.”

“I’m twenty-eight years old, and I can count my sexual experiences on one hand. I can’t get myself off, even with a toy that’s guaranteed”—I lift my fingers in quotes—“to give ‘the big O.’”

“Maya,” he starts, but I refuse to sit here and listen to him pity me.


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