Page 87 of Damaged Protector

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Page 87 of Damaged Protector

Ripping open the envelope while I was still on the front porch, I squealed when I read the words on the typed sheet of creamy white paper. My feet carried me inside on a cloud and straight into the workout room.

My grin widened when I found Hawk on his back, bench-pressing what looked like half a ton while Coconut rested on his stomach, fast asleep. She’d been with us for almost a week, and I was pretty sure Hawk was softening toward the kitten. While we were engrossed in a movie, I often caught him reaching over to stroke the soft fur between her ears. Then she’d pad across the couch and curl up in his lap.

Sure, he’d make a little grunt of what I assumed was supposed to be disapproval, but a few seconds later, his hand would rest gently on her warm back.

And one time, I’d returned from the store to find the big man sitting on the floor, moving the light of a laser pointer around while Coconut chased it.

But this? Oh my goodness, this was too much. Temporarily forgetting about my good news, I pulled out my phone and snapped a few photos of the adorable sight.

“What are you doing, Bee?”

“Putting this on your Insta,” I said, signing into his account, which he’d given me access to, and posting a couple pics with a fun caption.

He racked the weights on the holder above his head and sat up, holding Coconut in one hand. “Why?”

“Abs and a cute kitten? Total thirst trap,” I informed him.

“You trying to turn me into Bode?”

I laughed at that. One day at work, Cam showed me Bode’s semi-secret Instagram account, The Muffin Man, where he cooked desserts shirtless. He kept his face mostly hidden, but the women—and some men—went wild for him, especially when he spanked a big mound of dough or ran his fingers through freshly whipped cream.

“No, but you’ve gained so many new followers who are on their own fitness journeys and enjoy watching your workouts.” And your hot as sin body, I neglected to mention. Seriously, some of the comments were just…

The kitten woke up just then with a stretch and a yawn, and Hawk set her gently on the floor and patted her bottom. “Go play with your ball, Nut.”

“Stop calling her Nut!” I complained. “Her name is Coconut.”

He flashed me a mischievous wink as the cat bounded across the room and tackled her ball, rolling over onto her back to play with it. I could watch her all day long. She was so joyful.

“What’s that?” Hawk asked, interrupting my cat-watching.

I held up the letter in my hand. “I got an interview for the foundation!” I sang, drawing out the last word as I wiggled in place.

He strolled to me and gave me a high five. “Good job, Bee. When is it?”

“Crap, I was so excited, I didn’t even notice.” I re-read the letter and felt panic rise in my throat. “It’s Monday! What the hell? Why didn’t they give me more notice?”

He took the letter and scanned it. “It’s dated two weeks ago. Probably got lost in the mail for a while.”

I paced back and forth, my mind going a million miles an hour as I drummed my fingers against my mouth. “I need something to wear.”

“Like a suit? We could go to the mall.”

While I was touched that he was offering to go shopping with me, I was concerned about the expense. “Yeah, maybe.”

Hawk’s sharp eyes tracked my pacing, and then he seemed to read my mind. “That could be expensive though. Why don’t you borrow something from Charli? You’re about the same size.”

My head snapped around as my feet stopped moving. “Do you think she’d mind?”

“No. Not even a little bit. I’ll give her a call.”

An hour later, I was trying on the third suit Charli had brought over. “Ooooh,” she squealed, “I think this is the one. Let’s go show the fashion critic.”

The first one had been a red pantsuit that Hawk declared was too bright. The second was forest green, and he’d said it was fine. This final one was navy with a tiny bit of cream trim. And it was gorgeous.

“Is this a Bouvier?” I asked, staring down at one of the signature buttons on the cuff. “I can’t wear this! It’s way too expensive.”

Charli waved her hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. It was free—a gift from Auburn Bouvier himself. He’s Beau’s cousin.”




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