'Tis the Season for Romance by unknow

Author:unknow
Language: eng
Format: epub

Chapter 3

Cleo

“He can go to hell,” I muttered to the empty room.

Who the hell did he think he was, following me here and ordering me around like I was a child? I was an adult and didn’t need a babysitter.

“One night?” I scoffed. “I’m not leaving. This is my vacation. Mine. This is my Christmas.”

I flew off the bed, too antsy to sit still, and paced the room.

After Austin had left, I’d made considerable progress drinking the second bottle of champagne. Half a flute and it would be gone. My head was fuzzy. My limbs were loose and warm. My stomach growled and I hiccupped, staring at the door, willing my room service to appear. I was starving, having only eaten airplane pretzels for lunch, and food would help soak up some of the alcohol.

I didn’t need a raging hangover if I had to travel home tomorrow, and it was very likely I would be traveling.

Austin Myles usually got his way.

I wouldn’t put it past him to toss me over his shoulder and cart me out of here if he so desired.

Once upon a time, I’d dreamed of being carried off by Austin, willingly, without a kick or a scream. When my father had hired his company to provide physical security for the family, I’d taken one look at Austin—at his midnight hair and hypnotic eyes—and boom. Hello, crush. That’s all it was. A teensy, tiny, enormous crush.

But I’d hid it well. Not a soul on earth knew how I felt about Austin and I’d take my itty-bitty crush to the grave.

When he’d first started working for us, my father had insisted Austin personally see to my protection. Dad had been paranoid that I was at risk ever since I’d opened Crumbs. From who was a mystery, but Dad wasn’t much for reason when it came to his daughter.

So Austin had done a full assessment of my life. He’d been all business, focusing on assessing security at the bakery and at my home. It had been cute, the way he’d carried a notebook around, jotting down notes about access points and breach potential—if one could call a six foot three, muscled heartthrob cute.

After Austin’s inspection, he’d deemed my home and workplace safe enough but in need of improvement. I’d owned the bakery for a year by that point and had never had a problem, but that hadn’t stopped him from installing a new locking system on the rear entrance as well as an entire video surveillance system. There was an alarm fob on my keychain. A can of pepper spray in my nightstand.

The system and safeguards should have been enough, but Dad had still insisted on a bodyguard. It had been Austin in the early days. He’d sit at a corner table in the bakery, working on his laptop in silence, paying me next to no attention. Though I had no doubt that if a customer had so much as raised a voice he would have come to my rescue.

Apparently, the only person allowed to criticize me or my baked goods was Austin himself.

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