Page 27 of Her Devoted HERO

“I’m taking her home after this. We’ll visit the other facilities next Saturday. Kenna has had enough excitement for one day.”

The sad part was, Dex was probably right. But she didn’t want to go home and worry her family. Maybe Rosalie’s house?

They were soon out in the San Diego sunlight without her sunglasses, it hurt her eyes.

“Let’s get you home,” Dex said. He still had his warm arm surrounding her, and she took advantage of it. It felt good to lean on someone for a change.

“If I’m not checking out the other shelters, I should really work. Take me to Rosalie’s,” she requested, looking at him as they stood in front of his jeep.

He looked at her and gave her a considering look.

“Rosalie would definitely not want you working today. She’d want you to take it easy.”

“I can take it easy at Rosalie’s house,” she said firmly.

His brown eyes assessed her. She saw the minute he saw through her.

“You don’t want to go home and worry Austin and your mom, am I right?”

“No, I don’t. Take me to Rosalie’s. She’ll arrange for a ride back to my home tonight.”

“If I take you to Rosalie’s, will you rest?”

“Yes,” she lied firmly.

“Bullshit. It’s a madhouse over at Rosalie’s. You’re coming home with me, where I can make sure you take a nap.”

“It is not a madhouse.”

“Are you telling me that Smooches won’t try to climb all over you, and you won’t have to translate for the gardener?”

“It’s either my house or your house, which is it?” he asked.

She sighed and shook her head. Even that small motion hurt. “Hell Dex, you don’t even know me, and you’re treating this like it was a Las Vegas fight. If I go home and say, I’m woozy because I got knocked down by some bruiser down in Encanto, Austin will lose his mind.” She blew out a breath.

“I knew I liked that kid.”

Kenna tried to twist out of Dex’s hold, but it didn’t work. He didn’t hold onto her roughly, just firmly. Firmly and gently. How did he manage that?

Kenna bent her head so she wouldn’t have to look in his eyes, but he was having none of it. He put his knuckle under her chin and tipped it up.

“Look at me, Poppy.”

“That’s a stupid nickname,” she complained because she liked the feel of his hand on her face.

“Look at me.”

“No.”

“What? Are you five?”

“Poppy makes me sound like a five-year-old.”

“It makes you sound like a firecracker, all pop, fizz, and fire.”

Her eyes shot up to look at him.

“Are you for real?”