Daddy's Angel (Montana Daddies 7)

“Ms. Silvers? Everything okay?”

She let out a screech and jumped into the air. Her hand went to her chest.

“Holy fucking shit! You frightened me!”

“You didn’t see me? How did you not see me?” he demanded. Was she so oblivious to her surroundings that she missed a six foot five, two-hundred-and-thirty-pound man sitting there?

“Maybe because you’re lurking around in the dark,” she snapped.

“I’m not lurking,” he replied. “I’m sitting here having a midnight snack.”

“That’s a snack? That would feed me for a whole day.”

He sure as hell hoped not. If this was all she ate in a day, she was seriously under eating. No way would she get away with that sort of bullshit if she was under his protection.

But she’s not. Not in that way. So chill, man.

“It’s a snack. And you better be eating more than this in a day.”

Okay, so obviously he wasn’t in the mood to chill.

“Are you sure you’re allowed to eat after midnight? Isn’t that against the rules? If you eat after midnight don’t you turn into an ogre. Oh wait, I think it might be too late. . .”

He had to duck his head to hide his smile. Shit. He was in trouble.

Little brat.

This was a side to her he definitely hadn’t seen before. He kind of liked it.

“Getting your movies mixed up. Gremlins shouldn’t be fed after midnight because they turn into destructive monsters. Ogres are in Shrek.”

“You’ve watched Shrek.” She gave a comical gasp, holding her hand against her chest. “Doesn’t that go against the whole tough guy image?”

“Not an image.”

“Ah, my apologies. I didn’t realize tough guys watched Shrek. Mind you, the two of you do bear a resemblance.”

“What does a man have to do to eat his sandwich in peace,” he moaned.

She tensed. And he had the sudden intuition that he’d said the wrong thing.

“I apologize. I just came to get some water. I. . .I. . .didn’t mean to offend. . .I’ll just go. . .” She turned to race off. He quickly stood and reached out to grab her arm.

She gasped, turning and he let her go. Fuck. What was he doing? Way to intimidate her, asshole.

“Don’t run off. You didn’t insult me.”

“I’m sorry, I. . .” she trailed off, rubbing her hands over her upper arms as though cold.

He should probably say something to ease her obvious nervousness.

“Stop saying sorry,” he said gruffly.

“I’m sor—” she immediately bit off the word at his sharp look.

Her eyes wide, her skin so pale he could see some faint freckles spread across her nose. Aww. Jeez. Why did he have to notice that?

It was damn cute.