“I think you might be my guardian angel,” I mumble into his solid chest.
“I’m no angel, lady,” he chuckles bitterly. “But I’ll be your guardian.”
“Why?” I ask because I need to understand. He must see more than a few cases of domestic abuse in his line of work. He may be a good person but I doubt he takes them all into his home.
“Why not,” he shrugs.