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And nope, she did not want it.

But wow. This was just like one of those books that she loved to read.

Only, she hadn’t been able to read anything since Charlie’s death. It was like she couldn’t turn off the voices in her head. The problems that were unrelenting.

So, yeah, that was something else that Charlie had taken from her. And she shouldn’t let him. She needed to get back into reading. It was her escape. It was her happy place, especially the books about Littles and their Daddies.

CJ Bennett was her favorite author of Little books.

Right. She was going to make it a goal that next week she would read a new book by CJ Bennett. She had one coming out this weekend, so that would be perfect.

Ammo took a couple of steps back and had a sip of his beer. She gulped down some as well, needing that coolness to soothe her throat which had suddenly become very dry.

“Hmm, you’re not objecting. That’s interesting,” he said.

Shit, shit, shit.

She should have objected, shouldn’t she? She should have said that she didn’t want him spanking her, that he didn’t have a right to punish her.

This was all insane. Had she really only known him thirty-something hours? It felt much, much longer, and she didn’t know whether that was a good thing or not.

A knock on the door saved her from having to figure out what to say.

She actually considered answering it until she realized it was likely Yvonne. She was probably coming to complain about the mess or the noise, or something to do with Aimee’s yard. There was no pleasing that woman.

Before she could tell Ammo to just ignore the knock, he was headed toward the front door.

What was with him and answering doors?

Well, she wasn’t going out there. She couldn’t deal with Yvonne.

And, yes, it did seem that she hid from a lot of her problems.

Aimee peeked around the doorway as he opened the door.

“Who are you?” Ammo demanded.

Okay, so maybe it wasn’t Yvonne. Who could it be?

Oh, shit. Please don’t tell her that the debt collectors were here. On a Friday night? Surely not.

She heard a masculine voice speak. “I’m here to see Aimee. Is she here? And who are you?”

Crap, crap, crap.

No one had come yesterday, so she’d hoped they’d given up. It seemed that they hadn’t.

“I’m her protector.”

“Her protector? Why does Aimee need a protector? Wait, like a bodyguard? Has she been threatened? She doesn’t need you. She shouldn’t be paying for a bodyguard when she could have me.”

Finally, she recognized the voice. That was Lenny Douglas. Great. He was about twenty-five, so ten years her junior.

And from what she could remember, he was a skinny guy with glasses and a complexion that made him look more like a teenager. Not really who she’d want to protect her if she was in trouble.

“You?” Ammo said with such disbelief that she winced in sympathy for Lenny. He wasn’t a bad guy, just a bit delusional and dumb.

And kind of annoying.