Call You Mine

by Claudia Burgoa

  I can’t help but smile with him and sigh. “Hey.”

  “Ready to go?”

  “You’re not going anywhere with him.” Dad glares at Beacon, and I swear the vein on his temple is throbbing. “Beacon, a word.”

  “I would love to, but I need to be back at home by tonight, and this lady and I have a few things to do before we arrive in Baker’s Creek,” he says nonchalantly. “You can always call me or visit us.”

  “I’ll reassign your primary duty since you’re on a sabbatical.”

  Beacon snorts. “There’s no point, but you do whatever you think is best, Bradley. I can’t wait to see what happens when you do that.”

  Dad huffs and slowly expels a couple of breaths before he speaks and points at him as if he’s threatening him. “You do something stupid, and I will—”

  “Mason,” Mom says his name with a scolding voice.

  “Define stupid,” Beacon challenges Dad.

  “Stop,” I order Beac.

  “I’m just—”

  “Taunting him, and I want you to stop, please.”

  Why he likes to undermine my father’s authority is beyond me. He never does it when there’s a real threat, a mission, or he’s assigning him a job. It’s usually like today, outside of work.

  “Anything for you, G.” He takes the carrier from Mom, looks at Mozart, and says, “And you will be traveling with Uncle San who should be here soon.”

  “I was planning on driving myself,” I protest.

  “Yeah, but we’re going to Portland first, and this guy won’t like staying in the car for that long.”

  “I agree, but I need my car.”

  “Which is why San and the guys are meeting us here. San’s driving your car to Baker’s Creek,” he assures me just as Lang’s car parks right behind Beacon’s. “This is a slight change of plans because last night, I had an epic idea.”

  “Fine, let’s go,” I concede.

  “Call me,” Mom says when I hug her. It’s not, “Call me when you get there.” Nope. She’s telling me to call her because I didn’t tell her about Beacon and I dating.

  “Love you, Mom,” I say and smile. Then I hug Dad and promise him, “I’ll be fine, Dad.”

  “I’ll be watching you, Aldridge,” Dad warns Beacon.

  I groan because these two are planning on making each other’s lives miserable. I can just feel it.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Beacon

  Mason Bradley and I have had a love-hate relationship since he learned I kissed his daughter. Back then, I was a skinny, stupid, short kid who was terrified of him. Thank fuck he never found out that we more than just kissed.

  I’m no longer that kid, though. Now, I’m a highly trained asset who could give him a good fight. I care about and respect him. He’s been there for me since I was young. Those father-son Boy Scouts camping trips were possible because he volunteered to take me.

  He taught me how to catch and how to fish, and he helped shape the man I became.

  When he began to teach martial arts to Grace, I asked him to teach me too. My grandparents agreed to it. I doubt they knew back then what Mason did for a living. They thought he was some geeky IT guy. Without meaning to, Mason trained all his children, nieces, and nephews. He just did it to give them a way to defend themselves. Some of them know martial arts, while others learned a lot more—becoming part of The Organization.

  His original idea wasn’t to recruit any of us. Yet, we showed potential, and here we are. I’ve been working for him for the past eleven years. Some of us have primary duties. Mine is to watch over Grace. Technically, I’m Grace’s bodyguard.

  Why would she need someone to look after her?

  In my opinion, she doesn’t. For Mason, there’s a lot at stake. She’s the granddaughter of Chris Decker—the musical legend. She’s the granddaughter of Gabe Colt—producer, screenwriter, and award-winning actor. Her uncles are the famous Decker twins. Those might be important reasons. The most important one is that Mason, the owner of one of the best high intelligence secret agencies, has made a few enemies worldwide.

  She’s not in danger, but we are cautious.

  When he was going to assign the duty to one of his men, I volunteered. Who better to watch over her than me?

  I wouldn’t trust her safety to anyone. Plus, I’m her friend. She’s never felt like someone is watching her every step. It’s always just me—fun, reliable, and silly Beacon Aldridge. If I’m not with her, I assign the people who watch over her during concerts.

  He never felt the need to disclose my duty to Grace, nor the fact that she has a bodyguard. I don’t know what she’s going to do when she learns about it.

  Good luck, Mason Bradley.

  She’s going to be pissed at me. I’m going to have to grovel and persuade her to forgive me.

  This dating thing has a big obstacle. I could be worried if it wasn’t for the fact that I’m counting on it to swoon the fuck out of her, so she’ll forgive me. Chicks dig that groveling thing pretty well. I’ve seen it with my sisters-in-law.

  My relationship with Mason and my job with The Organization might be in jeopardy. He’s going to try to kick my ass—which isn’t skinny anymore. I can take him. We’ll just have to deal with it later. As always, my priority is Grace.

  Before I warn him, because he is pissing me off, the guys arrive to pick up Grace’s car.

  I respect him. He’s done a lot for me, but I’m tired of doing everything he says to avoid losing my primary duty.

  Grace gives San her car keys and we wave goodbye.

  “What was that?” Grace asks as we pull out of the driveway.

  “I’m not trying to be dense, but what exactly are you talking about?” I ask, glancing at her briefly and then returning my attention back to the road.

  It could be one of two things—the throwdown with her father or the fact that I picked her up without warning her. Either way, I’m going to play dumb until we get home. I’m not thrilled that she rented her own place. If she had agreed to live in the house the guys leased, I could switch places with one of them and stay overnight with her.

  She huffs. “Never mind.”

  “No, really. Tell me,” I insist.

  “For starters, you never told me you had a primary duty.”

  Because why would she start with something as light as, “Why were you taunting my father?” Nope, she wants to know what will make her say, “Drive me back home. We’re over.”

  “It’s classified,” I remind her.

  There’s sensitive information within The Organization that we can’t share. Not even with our team. In our case, she’s the only one in the team who doesn’t know about it. Fuck, she’s going to kill me.

  “Oh God, don’t give me that crap, Beacon Aldridge,” she warns me. “I know about all your missions—even the ones where you go alone.”

  “Missions, yes,” I clarify. “Not duties.”

  “Now you’re obtuse,” she complains. “What are you hiding?”

  This is the part where I tell her the truth. She’ll kick my ass and refuse to see me again. I will have to grovel and probably stay with her until she forgives me. Which will affect the entire town of Baker’s Creek.

  “Can we discuss it tonight?” I ask, requesting some time because I definitely need to warn Mason.

  I might not be able to leave town, but his daughter can, and she’s not going to be happy after she’s done with me.

  “Why wait?”

  “Because the last thing I want to do is talk about work,” I answer, and it’s the truth.

  “So, if I ask about the sabbatical?”

  “It has to do with my primary duty,” I respond. “Again, something we can discuss later when we arrive home.”

  I feel her glare. It’s that intense. She’s either upset or trying to figure out a way to just quit the operation and head back home. I wait for her next question. “Did the lawyer agree to let me babysit Arden and Carter?”

&n
bsp; “Yeah,” I answer, knowing that Leyla already told her it was cleared. “It wasn’t even an issue. Apparently, reaching out to our community is allowed.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means that we can ask for help from the town, as long as there’s no financial exchange.”

  “Hmm.”

  “What are you thinking?”

  “So monetary exchanges aren’t allowed, but you could exchange services,” she says. “Not that you need anyone to come and help, but we could figure out a way to get a nanny for Arden and Carter. Like, ‘I give you a horse in exchange for your services.’”

  “Just a reminder that the horses are family,” I say, imagining what Leyla and Pierce will say if they hear this blasphemy. Poppy and Alistair are their children. “Also, you’re in charge of Arden and Carter when their parents are busy.”

  She sighs. “The horse is just an example. I would imagine that you’d buy a new horse with the idea of exchanging him.”

  “We don’t need another horse,” I protest. Again, we bring an animal close to those two, and they’ll just add the creature to their growing family. “We’ve plenty. I’ve no doubt that Pierce is going to buy a pony for Carter so he can learn to ride. By then, I’ll be long gone. Now back to you. Where are you going?”

  I’m not freaking the fuck out, but I am. She gave me a year.

  Didn’t she?

  Technically, we didn’t discuss the time frame. I assumed she understood that she’d stay until I’m allowed to leave Baker’s Creek. News flash, I’m not staying.

  My careers require me to travel often. Also, Grace is close to her family. When I say close, it means Sunday dinner at her grandparents’, brunch at her mother’s, and being at every celebration the Deckers might have happening. I wouldn’t take her away from them—ever.

  “I got a call from an old teacher. He’s proposing a series of concerts in Carnegie Hall and wants me to be part of it. It’s just a proposal that, if approved, will start in August. If all goes well, then he might want to organize a world tour.”

  This is the part where I wish I can tell her no, because the entire team is taking a sabbatical. I wouldn’t trust her safety to just anyone. I don’t care if Mason Bradley has capable agents who could take over my job. I doubt Seth is going to stop what he’s doing just to babysit his sister.

  We usually discuss her projects. It’s a way to plan the logistics. Also, what the fuck? I need her with me.

  Have I mentioned that I need at least until the end of the year to figure us out?

  “It’s just a proposal,” she continues. “Unlike Lang, who can get any venue whenever he wants, he has to get the hall. We both know it’s not that easy.”

  I breathe with relief when I realize she’s right. This is something that most likely won’t be approved for this year. Even if the teacher is trying to use Grace’s name, they won’t be able to set anything until next year—or the year after. We are going to be in a different place by then.

  What’s going to happen after Baker’s Creek and her dating experiment?

  Manelik asked me that stupid question last night.

  The answer is even more stupid, I have no fucking idea.

  “We have to have a plan for when I have to leave town,” she continues.

  “When would that be?”

  “Any time I want,” she concludes.

  And I’m fucked. Luckily, the guys agreed to go with her.

  “Of course, but it sounds like you’re not staying for long—as we agreed.”

  “Not exactly, but think about the days I need to go home to visit my grandparents. Remember, they aren’t as young as they used to be.”

  “You can work that out with Mills,” I say, controlling my answers because there’s a lot more I’d like to say.

  Let’s start with the four-hour drive from Baker’s Creek to Seattle. Then add the road conditions during winter. Icy and dangerous. I feel for Mason Bradley because he’s always trying to keep his daughter within his watchful eye, but Grace has a mind of her own. I’ve known her for a long time. You need to know what battles to fight, and I honestly try to always be on her side—by her side. It’s easier to support her.

  During the first hour of the drive from Seattle to Portland, we talk about her old professor’s idea. She likes the concept. It’s something she can do since she’s free, at least until next March when we start touring. I need to figure out a way to find something exciting.

  I’m excited and can make things a lot more fun for her. There’s a nine-point list she needs to achieve, and knowing her, it’ll be twice as long by the end of the month. The more things she adds to it, the longer she’ll stay.

  Let’s just hope she understands me when I tell her about my primary duty.

  Fuck, I’m doomed.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Grace

  “We’re here, sleepyhead.” Beacon’s deep, breathy voice wakes me up.

  The same voice that in my dream was whispering naughty things in my ear after a lengthy kiss. He had his long, strong, tattooed arms wrapped around my waist.

  When I open my eyes, I meet his hot, heavy gaze. His eyes are lit with passion, just like in my dream. This time, when his lips crash down on mine, it’s real. His tongue sweeps the bottom of my mouth, and I open it for him. Our tongues dance to a slow, tender waltz that becomes an intense samba. Sometimes I forget how this man can switch rhythms and loves to play with them.

  He’s like his art. Whimsical, chaotic, and temperamental. And sometimes his magic makes me feel a little too much. How I wish I could stay in his embrace forever, making beautiful music. This is the first time I realize that our kisses are on a different level. Even when they aren’t long and deep, there’s a desire lingering under that sucks me into a vortex of want.

  I want him to touch me.

  I want him to tear off my clothes.

  I want so much more of him.

  “Beacon,” I moan, pleading him to, “Touch me.”

  “Not here.”

  “Please,” I beg.

  “You know I’d do anything for you—except that.”

  I pull away from him, but he holds me in place. His deep, penetrating gaze locks with mine. There’s a fire in those green eyes—the flames threaten to burn me. I want him to sear me with the heat. So why is it that he won’t touch me?

  “Not here, in public,” Beacon whispers, leaning closer to me and running his lips along the shell of my ear. “You have no fucking idea how much I want to do it.”

  I can hear it in his voice, the—“But?”

  “We’re going to have to wait.”

  “Until we arrive in Baker’s Creek?”

  “No.” His lips travel along my neck. He places a gentle kiss on my collarbone. “It’ll happen when we’re ready.”

  I’m ready!

  “Ready for what?” I ask, taking a long deep breath.

  What is he waiting for? For me to melt into a puddle of need. I’m there. I’ve been waiting for this since he kissed me three weeks ago. I’ve been prepping myself and fantasizing about him every night. I want his long fingers touching every inch of my skin. Fucking me the way I’ve been doing it myself because he’s not close.

  And he wants to wait longer.

  You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me, Aldridge!

  He lifts his shoulder with an unapologetic shrug. “I want this to be perfect, G. Dates, flowers, and slow dances. I promised to make this unforgettable.”

  “What’s going to happen in the end?”

  He caresses my jaw with the back of his hand, those green eyes looking at me tenderly. How can they switch so fast from loving, to burning passion, to indifference? This version of Beacon is confusing.

  “Maybe we can figure out a way to keep it going,” he answers. “Melodies are everlasting. Maybe we can create one that will be timeless. Eternal. Or this is just a tune we play once during a concert that we’ll always remember. I don’t have an answer yet.
”

  I don’t understand why it is that my heart hurts when he hints that there’s an end. I doubt I’ll be able to go back to the way things were between us where kisses, caresses, and those loving gazes never existed.

  But what if I fall so hard that I won’t be able to breathe without him?

  He kisses my forehead. “There you go, worrying about things that’ll never happen.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “No matter what happens after this, I’ll still be by your side.” His assuring voice makes the weird dread that was overtaking me dissipate.

  “You promise?”

  “I swear,” he states, and I can breathe with ease. “Now, let’s go and have our first real date.”

  “Because we’ve had fake dates before?” I joke.

  He looks at me and shrugs. “Many, many friend dates.”

  What are friend dates? Seriously, when did we go out on a friend date? As far as I’m concerned, we’ve never gone out. I am about to ask about this new development, but the sight of a tall building with the Merkel Hotels & Spas logo stops me. Henry’s business.

  “So, where are we going?” I ask as I climb down from the SUV.

  Beacon takes my hand. We walk along toward the steel and glass building. I’m wondering if we’re picking up Henry or Sophia. They come twice a week to check up on their corporation.

  “We’re picking up a new toy for you,” he states as the doors slide open to the interior of the new and impressive building. The high ceilings, white and gray marble, and black and white decor throughout the floor are astonishing.

  My heart pounds. It’s fear.

  What can he possibly give me that he’s picking up at the corporate offices of Merkel Hotels & Spas?

  Beacon’s favorite sport is to embarrass people. Practical joking is a real activity in his dictionary.

  Pranking is one of his guilty pleasures.

  He teases me but never pranks me. I’ve never been on the receiving end of his practical jokes. I don’t think I’m exempt from them either. There’s no written law stating that he’s not allowed to pull any of his antics on me.