"Rejected," he intoned immediately. "I saw the way you walk. You'll shoot yourself in the face."
I wasn't even a little offended by that because he had a valid point. "Pepper spray, then."
"Pointless. You'll get sprayed just as much as the attacker, and they can still overpower you even then." Frost scanned the shadowy trees as the headlights illuminated them on either side. "You need a security system, at minimum."
I wasn't going to start an argument with a stranger, even if he had helped me. There would be no high-tech security systems here. There would be nothingsthat beeped and monitored and called other strangers to my property. Not a chance in hell. I nodded like I understood and set my sights on my little reclaimed barn home as it came into view. Fifty yards away from it, my Nan's cottage was illuminated by pretty string lights over her wild garden, and there were lights on inside the kitchen. Glancing at the clock, I realized it was just before nine, so Tessa was likely to be in bed, even if she wasn't sleeping. Nan would be in the kitchen reading one of her tawdry eighties romance novels with a cup of jasmine tea.
The familiarity of the scene washed over me like a soothing balm, and I inhaled slowly, taking in the scent of alyssum and lavender from the garden as it filtered through the open window. Benjamin came to a stop near the front of my door, his head swiveling and ducking as he took in the poorly lit space. "Which one of these two do you sleep in?”
I pointed to the barn. “Reclaimed barn.”
“Oh, yes. I think I’d mentally blocked that prospect out,” he muttered. “Give me your key and I'll open the door for you first to make sure it’s safe."
I drummed my fingers on my knees. "Well. Ithasa lock. I don't necessarily use it." He slowly rotated a blank look ofdisbelief my way. I cleared my throat. "It seems perfectly safe right now."
"I see why they chose you as a target," he commented baldly.
I rubbed my nose. "I can't argue with you. I am a defenseless marshmallow."
His lips twitched. "Ninja marshmallow, huh?"
"I'll kill you with diabetes," I replied seriously.
He nodded, shifting it into a head shake, and opened his door. "Stay here, Marshmallow."
I waited while he made his way to my front door cautiously, his gaze flitting over the darkened landscape until he was under the singular porch light I'd left on. He opened the door slowly, peering inside, and he held out his hand in a "stay there" gesture before slipping inside. I waited for him to look through my home, my fingers curled around the yellow floral fabric of my dress and my heart a steady, insistently nervous rhythm.
When he returned, he opened the door wide and filled the doorway, leaning one arm against the door jamb and gesturing me inside. My brain fumbled over itself for a second as the warm interior lights backlit his bulging bicep and a sliver of skin between the hem of his black shirt and pants. This man was something else. I had never been around someone like him before, someoneotherworldlyattractive.
I immediately chided myself and forced myself out of the car. His physical appearance shouldn't dictate how I behaved. He clearly took good care of himself and prided himself on his appearance. That was lovely. Commendable. But it didn't need to mean I had to become a brainless idiot in his presence. I joined him in the doorway, but when he didn't move, I pulled up short. He stared down at me, his blue eyes a hazy gray in the gloomy lighting. My thoughts ground to a halt again. He flicked a finger toward the car. "You forgot to close the door."
Goddammit. I'd become a brainless idiot. "Right." I started to turn on my heel, but he stopped me with a warm, firm hand around my arm. He dragged me inside. "I'll get it. Get inside, please. You're making this way too easy for these guys."
"Probably," I agreed humbly. I hurried past him and inside the spacious, two-story living space.
When my parents had converted it, they had taken care to make it airy and bright with plenty of modern windows and light fixtures, even if there weren't many rooms, per se. The entrance led directly into a dining room on the left, and there was a long, natural wood table with ten chairs that was never used. There had been plans for it once upon a time, a giant area with plenty of seating for happier times. To the right, the living area had been sectioned off with a large Persian rug and a modern sectional I had added a few years ago to replace the outdated one my parents had left. I did have a television above the stone hearth, but I'd lost the remote over a year ago.
I went past the dining and living areas and straight to the kitchen in the back. It had been built under the loft area, and it took up most of the back with the counters, stove, fridge, and cabinets all along one wall. The load-bearing posts were wrapped with crawling plants that hung along the exposed beams, and there was a small, well-used table and chairs that I utilized on a daily basis. I went to the robin’s-egg blue stove, filled the kettle with water, and set it on a burner to boil. When I turned around, leaning my weight on the counter and folding my arms, I found Benjamin turning in a slow circle as he took in the house.
I tightened my arms self-consciously, suddenly aware that I had a stranger inmyhome for the first time. Literally ever. What would Nan think? How was I going to explain this without scaring her? Actually, wait, why was I more worried about a man in my house than lunatic billionaires out for my blood?
Benjamin slid a shrewd look my way, his hands low on his hips. "You don't bring many people here, do you?"
How perceptive of you. Never."Not ex-military doctor bodyguards, no."
His lips quirked up before his eyes jumped up to the loft room above us. "Is that the only bedroom?"
"Yeah," I replied apologetically. "You… don't have to stay. Driving me here was really helpful."
Benjamin returned a look to me. "I'm extremely concerned that this is your survival response after an attack. You have no instincts for self-preservation."
"Marshmallow," I reminded him. I turned to pull two mugs off the hooks above the sink. "Do you like tea?"
"No, thank you," he replied absently, coming to join me in the narrow kitchen. Suddenly his body filled the space, and I realized for the first time how cramped it was. He came to stand behind me, and my hands faltered momentarily as they reached for a bag of lemon tea. In my periphery, I saw him tilt his head to watch me. "Am I making you more nervous?"
Yes. "No," I lied. "I just… feel bad for making you sleep on my couch."
"I've had worse," he replied with some amusement in his tone.
