Her Sworn Protector. Marie Ferrarella
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Byron’s eyebrows drew together, knotting in totally confusion as he glanced at her before switching lanes. “‘So’ what?”
Kady sighed. The man could bob and weave with the best of them. She wondered if he’d been a handful, growing up. And if he’d missed his mother, or at least the idea of a mother. Her heart ached a little, knowing how she would have felt without hers. Completely lost.
“Is Byron your first or last name?” she pressed.
It really was like dealing with a junkyard dog. “First,” he ground out grudgingly.
Talk about baby steps. The man was not willing to meet her halfway, or even a quarter of the way. “Do you have a last name?” she finally asked when he volunteered nothing beyond the single word.
“Yeah.”
Okay, he was doing this on purpose, she decided. “And is it a government secret?”
His voice was mild. If he didn’t know better, he would have said he was even enjoying himself. “Not that I know of.”
Byron paused, playing the moment out for his own amusement. He had no idea why the doctor’s questioning amused more than annoyed him. Maybe it was because this pint-size doctor stood out from the rest of all the people he’d encountered since he’d come to work for the late shipping magnate. In a sea of interchangeable people, she was unique, like the color red in a box of beige crayons.
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