Guardian's Joy #3 by Jacqueline Rhoades

lucky it was a claw and not
a bite. That's worse, much worse.”
    “I didn’t know, but I…” A spoon was in her
mouth and the soup was down her throat before she could protest and
it was so-o-o good. It had barely hit bottom before her stomach was
growling for more.
    After the second spoonful, she had the
presence of mind to say, “I can feed myself, thank you.”
    “You’re right handed. You try to eat soup
with your left, you’ll make a mess of that pretty white gown. Sit
back, relax, and let me do it.” Nardo held another spoonful
out.
    Grace shook her head, laughing. “When it
comes to these guys, my only advice is to choose your battles.” A
steady beep sounded from the kitchen. “Oh shit, I’ve got focaccia
in the oven. I’ll talk to you later.” She took off at a run.
    JJ rolled her eyes, but when she realized
Nardo wasn’t giving in, she opened her mouth and accepted the
spoon. She decided she was too hungry to argue.
    Nardo noticed the change and smiled inwardly.
His wild little filly had just taken the first step toward being
tamed. He wasn’t sure when he decided she was his. Maybe it was the
first moment he saw her. It didn’t make any sense, but there it
was. She was his and he would do whatever he needed to convince her
of the fact. But first, she had to learn to trust his judgment. He
set the spoon in the bowl, picked up the napkin and gently wiped a
drip from the corner of her mouth. She jumped.
    “Still sore?” he asked even though he knew it
wasn’t her tender lips that made her uneasy. He continued the
gentle dabs across her lower lip. “I’ll get something for that as
soon as you’ve finished your lunch.”
    The soup was finished. She wanted more, but
she was ashamed to ask. People thought, because of her thinness,
that her appetite was small when, in fact, it was the opposite. The
male cops thought she only ate like a horse when they were around
to prove she could compete with them at the table as well as out in
the field and so to avoid bad feelings, she rarely ate in their
company. Women were worse. Some seemed to think she was rubbing
their noses in the fact that she could eat what they could not and
never gain an ounce. Others made sly comments about bulimia and
tape worms. Over time she learned to pick at her food in public and
eat her fill only when she was alone.
    Nardo began cutting a sandwich into bite
sized pieces.
    “What are you doing?”
    “You’re still hungry.”
    “No I’m not. Really.”
    “Yes, you are. You were disappointed when the
bowl was empty and your eyes keep straying to the ham and cheese.
Now open up.” He held out a piece of sandwich and she obeyed.
    “A sandwich I can eat as a lefty,” she said
once she’d swallowed.
    “You need someone to take care of you,” he
said, “Besides, it makes me feel useful, so give me a break.”
    JJ sighed and opened her mouth for another
bite of sandwich. It felt awkward to be cared for like this. She
wasn’t used to it and she certainly didn’t need it. Her mother’s
free and easy lifestyle had taught her independence. It was all
well and good to eat when you were hungry and sleep when you were
tired if you were an adult. It wasn’t so easy if you were a child
who couldn’t reach the peanut butter jar or had to get to school on
time in the morning. JJ had learned early on that it was best to
take care of yourself. Her mother loved her, but tended to treat
her like a miniature adult and the men who passed fairly regularly
through her childhood were never there long enough to be relied
on.
    She’d spent most of her adult life training
her body to be as tough as any man’s and generally, that’s the way
she was treated. She was tough and needed no pampering. Nardo
insisted on treating her like some delicate, fragile creature. It
couldn’t be her looks. On her good days, her looks were passable at
best. Today, well, she didn’t need a mirror to know what she looked
like.
    “Why?” she asked aloud,