Page 4 of August’s Cowboy Braxton

I almost laughed at that. The thought of me being someone’s dad deserved a minute I didn’t have. “Not today.”

Her smile widened, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Then who are you?”

“Braxton James.”

Her smile stayed perfect on the surface, but everything behind it changed. I watched her cycle through a few emotions… recognition, then frustration, and finally fear. And damn me, I hated seeing that last one on her.

“You’re my security problem,” she said.

“I’m your security solution.”

“That’s exactly what a security problem would say.”

I didn’t smile, but she did. Brighter now. Too damn bright.

I’d spent too many years watching people pretend not to be scared. Addison Blake was all shine at first glance, the kind of woman who knew how to walk into a room and make everyone look where she wanted them to look. She had the crown, the smile, the perfect posture, and the polished voice.

But her hands were shaking. Not much. Not enough for anyone else to notice.

It was my job to notice.

She checked the doorway without meaning to. Just a flicker of her eyes, fast and automatic, like she’d been doing it all morning. She had put herself between a crying child and a loose animal without hesitation, but now that the danger had shifted back to her, she was pretending it didn’t exist.

I cataloged all of it in three seconds… the fear, the stubbornness, and the way she made me want to close every door, block every window, and keep every stranger on these grounds ten feet away from her until I knew which one had been watching.

That was a problem.

I didn’t get possessive over clients. I didn’t get distracted by green eyes and dusty boots and a woman who smiled like she’d rather bleed than admit she was scared. And I sure as hell didn’t have feelings.

But Addison Blake looked at me like she’d already decided I was going to be another man trying to manage her, and some reckless part of me wanted the right to prove her wrong.

“We need a briefing,” I said.

“I have appearances.”

“Your appearances are exactly why we need a briefing.”

She tilted her head. “I’m not a package you get to move from place to place.”

“No.” I stepped closer before I could think better of it. Close enough to see the gold flecks in her eyes. Close enough to watch her breath catch before she hid it. “You’re the person I’m making sure gets home alive.”

For a split second, her mask slipped. Her smile faltered. Her shoulders tensed.

Then she covered it with a laugh. “I think you’re being a little overly dramatic, Mr. James.”

“And you’re very good at pretending this isn’t serious.”

Her jaw tightened. That shouldn’t have made me want her more, but it did.

She wasn’t soft or helpless or fragile. Scared, yes, but not weak.

“Here’s how this works,” I said. “You don’t go anywhere alone. You tell me before you change locations. You don’t dismiss threats. You forward every message to me. And you don’t sneak away because you think I’m being overly dramatic.”

Her chin lifted. “Anything else?”

“Yeah. Stop smiling when you’re scared.”

Her breath caught.