“You’re okay, right?” I sat up to make sure some random piece of the bed hadn’t injured her or something.
She waved a dismissive hand. “Fine. I just wonder how much the owner’s going to charge me to get a replacement.”
Frowning, I pulled her in tighter to me. “He won’t charge you a damn thing. This is on me. I’ll take care of it.”
“You can’t—” I silenced her with a kiss to her lips.
“It’s already done,” I responded.
She rolled her eyes in that playful way I loved seeing. “This is some real lifeHow Stella Got Her Groove Backmess.” She laughed.
“Some what?”
She lifted her head, pressing her palm into my chest to bolster herself on her elbow. I captured her hand, keeping it against my body.
“You’ve never heard of that book turned movie from the 90s?”
I shook my head.
“It’s by Terry McMillan. Her books and movies had a chokehold on our Black Mamas during the 90s.” She smirked. “But she’s often credited as an early pioneer of Black romance books during that era.”
“And this, between you and me, is like one of her books?”
“A little. But in Stella the guy was like twenty-one or something. And she was forty, I think.”
“The fuck does a twenty-one year old know about pleasing a grown woman?”
Mia guffawed before placing a kiss to my chest. “Someone sounds a little threatened,” she teased.
“Threatened my ass.” I sat up on my elbows to look at her more easily. “I’d snap the neck of any twenty-something who tried to …” I paused when I saw the way Mia’s eyes bulged. “I’m not threatened,” I amended.
She stared down at me for a few more beats. “What do you do for a living?”
“I work security for a family.”
She angled her head and continued to look at me. I knew then that my answer wasn’t sufficient.
“You’re a security guard.”
“We prefer the term personal protection specialist.”
“But you’re not just their personal protection specialist, are you?” she noted.
“I’m head of their entire security team.”
“Head of security.” Her gaze drifted over toward the far end of the room.
Briefly, I wondered if she was trying to figure out who exactly I worked for. The memory of her recounting how she finagled her way into a sales account by researching and taking salsa classes came to mind. Mia was resourceful and an extrovert who made friends wherever she went. I’d seen it countless times over the past two weeks.
Hell, she got me, who never liked talking or meeting new people, to open up. The fear that she could be using me to get to some other means welled up.
“Does your job put you in danger?” Her question interrupted my thoughts. “Could you be hurt?”
I searched her gaze for a long moment. She openly stared down at me, allowing me to see the very real fear in her eyes. I released a breath, my worries from a few seconds ago completely obliterating.
She wasn’t trying to get to the Townsends through me. She was concerned about my safety.
I pulled her down to my chest where she rested her head against my shoulder.
