Page 9

9

“ I s it something I did?” she asked Jack as he forked up more eggs. He was really bad at this. Most of the eggs fell on the floor or her lap.

So why haven’t you stopped him?

You’re a grown woman who can feed herself.

The fact was, it was really nice to have someone looking after her. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had actually fussed over her hurting herself. Well, at least, not because they were actually worried about her.

More because they were worried about how her injury would affect her performance.

A familiar anxiety built in her tummy, but she pushed it aside. She wasn’t going to think of that right now. She was no longer competing.

Jack paused, staring down at her for a moment. “Something you did?”

She blushed and stared down at her lap. “I was acting a bit like a moron around him. It’s all right, you can say it.”

Jack placed a finger under her chin, tilting her head back. She expected some sort of joke to come from him. For him to tell her that yes, she was the queen of the morons.

Instead he frowned at her. What was going on? Jack never frowned.

Right, because you’ve known him for such a long time.

Idiot.

“Do not call yourself a moron.”

“I . . . uh . . . um . . .”

“But yeah, you were acting weird around Jameson.” He grinned and winked at her. “You shouldn’t do that, you know.”

“I know,” she said. “I embarrassed myself.”

“Nah, you stroked his ego and that thing is already hugely overinflated. Like, about to blow it’s so erect.”

“Jack!” Ian snapped as he walked into the room. “What the hell are you saying to her?”

“What? Nothing.” Jack gave Ian an innocent look while Maggie tried pretending that she didn’t resemble a giant tomato.

It was hard since she knew her face was flaming. Had Jack been aware of how his words sounded?

“You sounded like you were talking about . . . about . . .” Ian trailed off.

“Yes?” Jack asked, his face serene. But she saw the twinkle in his eyes. He knew exactly what he was doing.

“Nothing,” Ian said. Then he turned to her. “I’ll carry you up to bed. You’re to stay there all day tomorrow. Someone will bring you food.”

“Wait . . . what? I can’t stay in bed all day.” That was insane. She had stuff to do. They had to go out and look at viable locations for the wedding photos. She didn’t have time to stay in bed.

“You will stay in bed and rest your foot. Someone will bring you food.”

“And what about when I need to pee?” she asked sarcastically.

“I’ll put mine and Jack’s numbers into your phone so you can text us. We’ll carry you to the bathroom.”

And now she resembled a tomato again. Great.

“You can’t carry me to the bathroom.”

Ian loomed over her. “We can and will. You’re to rest that foot. Or you will be in trouble.”

“You know, you shouldn’t listen to popular opinion. Bossiness isn’t sexy. It’s annoying.”

“I’m wounded,” he replied dryly before bending down and lifting her into his arms.

Whoa.

She liked being carried by him a bit too much.

Obviously, she needed some sort of test to see if she was going nuts.

You are definitely going insane.

Ian walked up the stairs and into her room. He plopped her down on her bed and she quickly glanced around, making sure that she hadn’t left any of her underwear around. Whew.

“What do you want to wear? I’ll get it for you.”

“I can get it myself.”

He just stared down at her.

“Fine,” she grumbled. “In the top drawer of the dresser there’s an oversized T-shirt.”

He moved over to the drawers and opened the top one. Then he paused, and Maggie suddenly remembered what else was in there.

Idiot!

She stood, moving toward him. She winced as her foot protested. “I’ll get it.”

“Sit down,” he barked as he pulled something out. “What is this?”

“A woman has needs too!” she cried as he drew out Ziggy.

She let out a deep breath. Good. He’d only found Ziggy.

Monkeyballs. He’d found Ziggy.

“What’s this?”

“A zebra. Sheesh, your education is sadly lacking, huh? Z is for zebra.”

He frowned down at her. Then he blinked. “What are you doing on your foot? Get back to bed.” He pointed at the bed.

“Sheesh. So grumpy.” Turning, she limped back toward the bed. Then she let out a screech as he lifted her into the air and carried her back, plonking her down.

He loomed over her, waving a finger in her face. “Stay still.”

She saluted him.

He looked like he was about to explode.

It was kind of becoming their thing.

Then she noticed that he was still holding Ziggy in his hand. In fact, he was holding him . . . by his tail.

She let out an outraged squeak and grabbed her poor toy, cradling him against her chest. Then she patted his head and crooned to him soothingly.

Did she look like a crazy person?

Yes.

Was she going to stop?

No.

She waited for Ian to say something derogatory. For him to give her that look that said he thought she was insane.

Instead, weirdly, his face softened. Like he thought she was cute or something.

It was strange. Yet she wanted more.

“What’s its name?”

“His name is Ziggy.” She swallowed heavily. She could feel the need to fall into Little headspace. All she wanted was to be carefree for a while. To forget that she had worries and responsibilities.

But you can’t. This isn’t a safe space.

She was shocked that the urge was so strong. Typically, she only allowed herself to go into Little headspace when she was alone with the door locked.

And even that never made her feel entirely safe. So why did it feel like she could slip into Little headspace right now?

“Ziggy is cute.” Ian crouched in front of her, almost as though he was trying to make himself seem less intimidating.

That was weird.

And it didn’t work. He’d be intimidating even if he was lying down. She couldn’t imagine a time that he wouldn’t be intimidating.

“Shh.” She covered Ziggy’s ears. “You’ll give him a big ego.”

“Sorry. I’ll refrain from calling him handsome.”

She nodded solemnly. Then she closed her eyes for a moment. What was she doing? There was no way she should let this man see her Little.

It wasn’t safe.

“Maggie? You okay?”

“Can we just pretend you never saw Ziggy?” she asked in a small voice without opening her eyes.

There was a beat of silence.

“Little Misfit,” he murmured, placing his hand on her thigh.

“Please.” It killed her to beg. But she didn’t want anyone to know . . . she didn’t think she could survive the embarrassment.

Imagine if her parents ever discovered this about her? Her siblings? Uncle Willy?

Even Uncle Willy wouldn’t understand this.

She wouldn’t hurt him like that.

You’re an embarrassment and a failure.

“Maggie, are you all right?”

“I’m fine.” Opening her eyes, she stared down at him. “Lots of adults have toys that they cuddle. And act like they’re real. With feelings. It’s called being lonely and pathetic.”

Shoot. Was it better to be known as lonely and pathetic than to have people know she was a Little?

Monkeyballs. She wasn’t sure.

“Lonely and pathetic?” he repeated. “You will not talk about yourself like that.”

Sheesh. So bossy.

He reached up as though he was going to touch her, then dropped his hand.

What?

Did he not want to touch her now that he realized she cuddled a soft toy?

It wasn’t like Ziggy was her emotional crutch who made her feel better when she touched him.

Oh.

Wait.

Scratch that. He was totally that.

Think, Maggie.

How to distract him from this turn of events?

“I thought you had found my vibrator,” she blurted out.

Perfect.

You get ten out of ten for completely humiliating yourself.

Closing her eyes again, she tried to count backward from ten.

That didn’t just happen. Please say that didn’t just happen.

Ian cleared his throat.

“I’m going to need you to turn around, leave this room, and pretend you never met me.”

“Maggie,” he said in a soft voice.

What was happening right now? Ian didn’t have a soft voice. She must be delirious. Or maybe it was because this was a dream.

“None of this happened,” she whispered in a low croon. “This was all just a dream.”

“Look at me, Little Misfit.” He was still talking to her in that gentle voice.

Now it was just getting bizarre.

“You need to go now,” she told him. “We will never talk of this.”

“Look at me.”

“Nope. That’s not happening. If I don’t look at you, then none of this happened. Go. Shoo. Scram. Vamoose.”

“Telling me to leave isn’t going to get rid of me,” he informed her.

She sighed. “It’s sad when people don’t realize they’ve outstayed their welcome.”

“Maggie,” he said in a warning tone.

And there he was.

Mr. Grumpy-Knickers was back. But crap . . . that meant that she wasn’t dreaming. All of that had just happened.

“Can’t you just go?” she cried. “Haven’t I been humiliated enough?” She fell back on the bed and curled into a ball. It was too much; it really was. What she needed was a bubble bath, some soothing music, and her stuffed zebra.

And the ability to alter minds and erase memories.

Was that too much to ask for?

She didn’t think so.

“Look at me.”

Maggie opened her eyes.

Again, he reached out to touch her. And again, he pulled back.

Wow. Way to make a girl feel rejected.

“Please leave.”

“I can’t.”

Why? Because he wanted to declare his undying love for her? It was obvious he was obsessed with her.

Sad, really.

“I need to ensure you’re okay,” he told her.

Okay. That was kind of nice. Perhaps she’d just erase the last hour from his memory.

“And I need to take you to the bathroom so you can pee.”

“I don’t need to pee,” she told him.

“Yes, you do. Everyone needs to pee before they go to bed.”

“That’s not true. I never pee before I go to bed.”

He narrowed his gaze as though he was trying to figure out if she was telling the truth. She was stretching it. Just a tad.

“Well, now you’re going to start. If you need to pee during the night, I won’t be here to carry you. Unless . . .” He stared at the bed.

Was he thinking about . . .

“I’ll pee! Sheesh.” She sat up and held up her arms. “Carry me, donkey!”

“I am not a donkey.”

“Hmm, are you sure? You cart me around wherever I want to go. You make a lot of noise. And you have a bad attitude. Pretty sure you’re a donkey.”

“And I’m pretty sure that you’re seconds away from not being able to sit comfortably tomorrow.”

She gasped in disbelief. “You can’t threaten to spank me!”

“It’s not a threat. It’s a promise.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You’re my bodyguard. You’re meant to guard my body, not threaten to harm it.”

“I need to protect you. And if I deem that you’re putting yourself in danger, I have the right and duty to protect you how I see fit.”

“Pretty sure spanking me isn’t protecting me.”

“If it stops you from doing something that harms you, then it is.”

“How is calling you a donkey harming me?”

He glowered. She had him there.

“You can’t say I haven’t warned you, Little girl.”

“I still don’t think that you’re allowed to spank me. I studied that agreement and there was nothing in there about spankings.”

“But there were things about obeying your assigned guardian if they gave you an order for your safety.”

“I haven’t done anything to put myself in danger,” she reiterated.

“You cut yourself.”

“Not on purpose.”

“Fine, perhaps you have not done anything to earn a spanking. Yet.”

Yikes.