I'm calm, confident, and collected, she told herself. I'm–
Her wallet was suddenly yanked right out of her hand.
Chloe spun with a gasp to find Hamish directly behind her now, holding it up for her to see. “Tell me I didn't just watch you counting your money in the middle of the airport lobby, with every scumbag watching you?”
When he was angry, she noted, her tummy clenching into the most delectable twist of eagerness, his wonderfully thick brogue got even heavier.
They were too close. She needed to get distance between them, but already her feet held her rooted to the floor. Every tingling nerve in her body felt as if it was awakening from a long slumber. She'd never felt anything like it and had no idea how to deal with it now.
Without waiting for a response, he snapped, “You need a damned chaperone. God knows, my country loves its tourists, but there ain't a place on Earth free from crime.” He suddenly thrust a censoring finger practically under her nose. “You, little girl, are a menace to your own safety.”
Stung, she was still struggling to come up with a suitable response when he slapped her wallet back into her hand. He took her backpack off her shoulder and slung it over his own. Turning his back to her, he ordered, “Well? Put it in already.”
Chastened, and then miffed because nothing like this had ever happened to her and she had no idea how he could so easily make her inner Little jump right up to the very surface of her, she reluctantly obeyed.
“What now?” Hamish asked. “Rental car?”
She recoiled at the very thought. “No! God, no.”
The big highlander beside her damn near cracked a genuine smile, the first she'd yet seen him attempt. His mouth didn't move, but for a moment she thought she saw his green eyes light up, practically sparkling.
“If you Americans didn’t insist on driving on the wrong side of the road…”
“Same could be said for you Scots,” she pointed out, disgruntled.
“Och,” he snorted, “but we were a country long before you. If your lot weren't so stubbornly insistent on being nothing like England, you wouldn't have this problem.”
If only he weren't so right, she might have been able to think up a suitable comeback. As it was, she dropped her gaze to the floor so he wouldn't see how sullen she'd just become.
“I have a bus to catch,” she muttered, snapping about on her heel and heading out of the airport to the parking garage. His heavy footsteps followed her. She thought she heard him chuckle, but she was just annoyed enough not to look back at him.
The weather was cool. Not cold, but chill enough to make her wish she had her coat. Unfortunately, it was in Australia where it was definitely not needed. Not at this time of year.
Rubbing her arms, she stepped off the sidewalk and would have trudged across the passenger unloading area to where entire rows of rental car companies were situated in the six-story parking garage across the street. According to her pre-bought ticket, her bus company was located near them. But no sooner did her foot touch down on the pavement than a large hand grabbed her by the back of her sundress, hauling her immediately back a step just as a taxi drove right through where she'd been.
It honked at her, but she wasn't paying attention to that either. When Hamish abruptly spun her around to face him, her attention became instantly trapped by his stern frown. That utterly authoritative look of his instantly froze her in place. Her stomach flipped, but as anxious a feeling as that was, it was also… exciting? Surely not, and yet here she was, her knees trembling and her hands wringing one another. If he noticed, his glare didn't soften.
In a softly dangerous tone, he said, his accent deepening, “Were you nae taught as a wee one how to cross a busy street?”
Her breath caught in the back of her throat, preventing her unwelcome mewl of distress from escaping. She nodded.
“Bairns can be excused for forgetting to look both ways, but you know better. Don't you, Chloe?”
Her name on his lips made her shiver. She had no idea how to answer that. She just stood there, drinking in his disapproval while rubbing and wringing her fingers nervously.
“I'm nae talking to hear my own voice.” The lilt in his voice turned that simple statement into a warning that set her stomach to quivering. “Answer me, Chloe. Do you or dinnae you know better?”
Reluctantly, she nodded.
He tsked, glaring as if trying to decide what he should do with her. Her bottom crawled and, when he finally held out his hand, palm up for her to take, for one thrillingly scary moment, she thought he was about to actually spank her. Right here and now, at the scene of her “crime”, where everyone could see.
Her whole arm tingled when she hesitantly lay her hand into his. Her whole body flushed hot as he, checking the flow of traffic, walked her across the road to the parking garage, just as if she were a child.
Warmth heated her insides, flowing down in liquid waves to pool low in her abdomen, despite the burning of her embarrassment. Or was it because of her embarrassment? he'd definitely just tripped her Daddy Dom radar.
She'd read about Daddy Doms for most of her adult life, but had never had one herself. It was one of those things a recluse painter like herself just had to get out of the house to find. She had no idea where to go. The frozen aisle at the grocery store? Not likely, since she couldn't think of a single thing in frozen foods that screamed, “Attention Daddies, potential Little shopping here”. Except maybe shark-shaped fish sticks or dino chicken nuggets. But if that actually worked, after all these years of munching down dino nugget snackies, she figured she'd have a Daddy of her own by now.
Her hand tingled in his, the warmth of his palm creeping into her skin and flowing up her arm straight to her already muddled brain. Her heart was beating harder and faster than normal. She'd never felt anything like it, not for anyone.
