Page 42 of Pack Choice

I sigh. I may not be sweet like Ava and Bea, but I don’t have a heart of stone, and if caving in this once means I get Mr. Red Flag to open his wallet at this charity event, I think I can do it. I’ll just need to take another three or four suppressants before I do.

“Fine,” I say ignoring the butterflies that explode in my belly when he grins like he won the lottery. Not that he needs to. Judging by the suit, the watch and the pen, Mr. Red Flag is doing okay for himself. “But …” I say, lifting my forefinger.

“Crap,” he mutters.

“But this is the only time. You try this bullshit again and I’m calling Mack.”

“You wouldn’t?” he says, narrowing his eyes.

“If you’re prepared to play dirty, then so am I.”

“I’m always prepared to play dirty,” he says, knitting his fingers together on his desk, those butterflies swooning all over the place.

“And–”

“There’s more?”

“Don’t think anything is going to happen on this date, because I’ll be bringing Ford along, obviously.”

His brow furrows like a thunder cloud. “That is not part of the deal.”

“You were only telling me a couple of hours ago that I need to take my safety seriously.”

“You do. But I will keep you safe. No harm is going to come to you when you’re in my company.” The butterflies descend into a frenzy. I have no doubt those words are true. Colt may not be as large as the man-mountain out there, but he looks just as strong. Strong and hard and … I give myself another hard slap.

“There is no way I will be able to convince my brothers to let me go if it isn’t with Ford.”

“You seem very close to your bodyguard,” he growls.

“I’ve known him about as long as I’ve known you,” I scoff.

“I can talk to your brothers. Let them know you don’t need an escort.”

I tip back my head and laugh. “Go ahead, but be prepared to return from that conversation with fewer body parts than you went in with.”

He stares at me. This is the moment he’ll back down and tell me not to worry about it. Most men do not make it past the big brother test.

“Fine,” he says, “but I’m picking you up in my car and there won’t be room for that troll. He’ll have to make his own way there.”

“Sure,” I say, a little taken aback.

“I’ll be there to pick you up at seven.”

* * *

I always feltguilty about asking Phil to escort me to evening events. Although he was always too professional to show it, I could see the unhappiness about it in his eyes. He didn’t like to miss putting his kids to bed. It’s one of the reasons I rarely went out. That and because I was caring for mom.

I wonder how Ford will take the news. I decide it’s safest to ask him when I’m riding in the back of the car and he’s in the front.

“You’re going on a date with that man?”

“It’s not a date … it’s a business thing.”

“It’s a date,” he says.

“It’s for charity, for orphaned children.” Ford snorts. “The point is, are you happy to work tomorrow night, if not, I’ll ask Silver to find an alternative–”

“I’ll cover it.”