“Jackass,” I mutter under my breath. Bristol’s eyes widen. “You have to put a dollar in the swear jar.” She grabs my hand and drags me into the kitchen. On the marble countertop, there is a glass gallon-sized jar stuffed with one-dollar bills. “How about we don’t tell your dad what I said?” I try to bargain with the kid. It’s not the dollar that’s the issue. I don’t need her tattling to Kyler about the situation. He’s already questioning my ability as his daughter’s bodyguard. I don’t need to give him any more ammunition. “Make it two dollars.” Bristol holds up two fingers. The kid knows how
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