My Biker Bodyguard

by Turner, J. R.

  What am I afraid of?

  The answer leapt forward, as if it had always been waiting for the question to be asked.

  That they'll leave me. That I'll always end up alone.

  Now Mitch was telling her he wouldn't make any promises, that he wanted to hang out with her for a while, maybe drink some beer, get a new tattoo. A vacation.

  How stupid she'd been. She yanked on her pants, worked on her shoes. Her legs still trembled from making love to a man who offered only his body, not his heart. Pulling up her zipper, she said, "I'm not some weekend getaway, Mitch."

  Tears burning her eyes, she stalked out of the stall. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

  Did she really think he'd give up his job in L.A. and settle for living the rest of his life giving tattoos and fixing HarleyDavidson's with her? God had broken the mold on idiocy when he'd created her.

  "Jess, wait." Mitch jogged up behind her and put a hand on her shoulder.

  She jerked away and kept going. "Leave me alone."

  He wouldn't be deterred and grasped her arm. "Stop this. Right now."

  Forced to face him, she kept her gaze on his chest as she waited for him to spit out whatever he wanted to say so she could be free to leave. He smelled of their love-making and hay.

  "Jess." With his free hand he touched her chin, but she turned aside. He sighed. "I thought…I thought you'd be happy to have me go back with you. I didn't mean to hurt you. Hell, I don't even know what I did."

  She did look up then and saw the concern and confusion in his deep brown eyes. "You didn't do anything I didn't want you to. Don't worry, it's not your fault. It's mine. Maybe you were right, maybe…." she swallowed hard before continuing, "maybe we're just fooling ourselves."

  "About what?"

  "About this thing between us, as you call it." Jess wanted to run and hide, to bury herself in her misery and never come out. Inside, she still throbbed from the exquisite memory of his touch, but her heart ached more. "What could possibly come from a relationship between us? I can't live here, you can't live there, we're just thrown together until all this is over."

  "Is that what you really think?"

  No! No, it's not. I want the fairy tale, I want you to whisk me off into the sunset and love me forever. "Yes. It's what I really think."

  He dropped his hand and took a step back, his eyes shuttered against her. "Sorry–I didn't realize."

  Oh, she wanted to kick herself, wanted to…make sure she didn't fall in love with him just so he could leave her. "Mitch," her voice was thick with tears. She shook her head to dismiss all the truths she wanted to say. "I'm sorry too."

  She turned and ran then, afraid that she'd make a bigger fool of herself than she had. Afraid she'd turn around and tell him she was already head over heels for him, that there would never be another man she wanted more.

  Afraid to tell him that she loved him.

  Chapter Fourteen Three days passed in gut-wrenching silence. Mitch could hardly be in the same room for more than five minutes before Jess left on one flimsy excuse after another. Torn between letting her go, and following her and demanding she hear him out, he'd always let her go because he didn't know what to say.

  He hunted for a way to convince her she was on the verge of throwing her own dreams away to please her father. Afraid to leave Dirty Dan's side, she didn't have a life of her own. He didn't want it to end this way. Hell, he didn't know if he wanted it to end at all and that frightening thought held him back as well.

  Each night he tossed and turned, thinking of the possibilities. How much savings did he really need before he gave up his career and started seeing the world? Did that dream mean as much to him as being with Jess? Every time he thought of leaving without her, his jaw clenched. If this kept up, he'd need a dentist soon.

  He couldn't ask her to come with him though. Jess couldn't see how destructive her misplaced loyalty was. To prove it, would mean hurting her. Something he didn't want to do, not after what happened in the stables, not after what they'd been through together.

  It didn't help either that when he finally did fall asleep, his dreams were filled with a bird of paradise, long colorful feathers rising in a night sky until it's wings failed and it crashed to the earth, dead on impact. He'd wake with a start, a protest locked in his throat, sweating and confused.

  She'd said she wasn't a weekend getaway. It bothered him she believed he'd think of her like that. She was so much more to him–but to argue that point too, he would have to define what he felt for her, and he didn't have a concrete answer. Hell yes, he cared, but that didn't seem to be enough, or the full truth.

  He could tell her what she wanted to hear, say he'd come out to Wisconsin and look for a place to lay down roots. Then go out there with the 'maybe' in his head, but he knew that wouldn't work. He was cursed with a damned conscience and if she ever found out, or suspected, she'd never trust him again. He either would have to decide to move there permanently, or never again entertain leaving L.A. for her.

  Now, this morning, when he stood watching her retreat, arm hooked through Jared's as they wound down the path to the garden, he found himself filled with jealousy. She should be on his arm, smiling up at him, chatting about…whatever she was chatting about. He scowled. What could he do or say?

  The slightest misspoken thought could damage his chances with her. He was angry too. Didn't she realize that every day they wasted in silence was a day they could spend together?

  He couldn't ask her to make herself vulnerable to him. She had to come to him on her own, in her own time. He was finding more and more that he wasn't patient, not at all. Despite his decision to let her come to him, he couldn't wait.

  * * * Jess stepped up the gazebo steps and sat opposite Jared as she had the last two mornings. Escaping Mitch seemed easier when Jared was available and she rarely passed up a chance. Today, however, she wasn't going to go on and on about inane things, skirting around any subject regarding her mother. Today, she was going to say and ask the things she'd been getting up her courage to discuss.

  "Tell me," Jess said, curling her legs under her on the padded bench, "About how you met my mother. You said it was a good story."

  Jared grinned and leaned back, staring upward as if accessing the memories. "Ah, what a story. Well," he looked back at her and his smile widened. "She wasn't too much older than you. I had just been hired by your grandfather and he'd invited me out here for a charity garden party. Of course, the old man didn't realize how insensitive it was to serve alcohol in front of Beth. She'd only been clean and sober a few months then."

  He leaned forward and dropped his elbows on his knees. "Anyway, your mother decided she wanted to go riding–her favorite escape."

  The mention of the stables made her heart quicken and she cleared her throat. "Which one is her horse?"

  "They're all hers. I don't do much riding, found I'm not, ah…not quite built for it."

  "Oh." Jess smiled politely. "Go on, I didn't mean to interrupt you."

  "Oh yes, where was I? Yes, yes. She'd decided to go for a ride," he chuckled. "It was a new horse, not yet familiar with her or the grounds–or so I found out later. But your mother, she's all dressed up for the party. Imagine it if you can, she's wearing this floral dress thing and it's flying around her, her hair all unbound and wild around her head, and this…terrible look on her face. She guided the horse straight for the banquet table where a pyramid of champagne glasses had just been poured."

  Jess smiled. "All because he was serving champagne?"

  "You never met your grandfather. He was a…stern man. Even at his best he could drive a person crazy. Remember too, your mother was going through a rough time. Missing you and everything."

  "Missing me?" Jess whispered past the abrupt barricade of emotion lodged in her throat.

  "Yes, of course. She loves you very much." He seemed surprised. "I know you haven't really had a chance to hear all this before, but I thought you knew why she stayed away."

>   Jess nodded. "My father said he didn't want her to get in touch with me because he was afraid she'd…hurt me again. Why didn't she try harder? I mean, if she really loved me?"

  "Is that what you think? Oh gosh, Jess, she was torn up about what she'd done. She still cries about it at night sometimes–or at least before she was shot. You have to understand, she had it in her head that you didn't want to see her. She was afraid that merely showing up on your doorstep would make you angry with her or you'd be hurt she didn't do as you wished and stay away."

  "But I never told anyone I didn't want to see her. I thought she was gone, that even my father didn't know where she was. I never even knew that she got clean."

  He shook his head. "I'm sorry, Jess. I don't know what to tell you. It seems as if nobody really knew what was going on with the other. I wished it hadn't been that way, for both you and her."

  Jess took a deep breath and unfolded her legs, stretching them for a moment in front of her. When she felt capable of speaking again, she said, "I would have loved having her around."

  "She wanted you just as much." He stood and came to her side, wrapping a fatherly arm around her. "But it's all right now. You're here, she'll get well, and no more years will be lost."

  Lost, she thought. All that time apart when they could have been together. She closed her eyes and tried to take her mind off how wonderful it would be to really meet her mother. To get rid of the anger that still lingered, the real resentment that a mother would leave like that. She was lost, but she was found…and she loves me. "Finish telling me your story."

  She felt him nod, but didn't pull away. How much she missed her own father. Mitch's smile appeared in her mind's eye and she closed the door on that future firmly. No, she couldn't give up family for him. No matter how much that choice hurt, she was sure it was the right one.

  "All the guests had arrived. The party was a resounding success, and your mother rode that crazed horse through the crowd, knocking one lady's hat right off her head. Beth leapt over a set of chairs and straight for that stack of champagne glasses. Can you guess where I was standing?"

  Jess smiled, thinking she could, but wanted to hear it. "No. Where?"

  "Right next to the champagne glasses."

  She chuckled. "What happened?"

  "The horse wasn't having anything to do with jumping over that big table and at the last second, it bucked so hard, Beth flew off his back, over its head, and straight into the…"

  "Champagne glasses!" Jess sat up, grinning.

  "Exactly. Champagne went everywhere." He removed his arm from around her to wave them crazily in the air. "Here, there, everywhere. And me, I did what I did best back in college. I caught the ball–only it turned out to be a gorgeous woman with a heart of gold and a hankering for boring old number crunchers."

  "Catching her like that," Jess nudged him with her elbow. "You couldn't have been too boring."

  "Aw, shucks." He made a dopey face.

  Surprised, she threw her head back and laughed.

  "Just don't let it get around," Jared said sternly, pointing at her. "I got employees to keep in check."

  "Everyone deserves a good laugh now and then. No matter how serious their job is." Jess meant it kindly and smiled to soften her words, which wasn't hard to do. My mother missed me, wanted me, loved me.

  "That's true. Too much of a good thing, though, and all that." He stood, stretched. "I'm beginning to enjoy our daily talks. Unfortunately, I have to get to the office today. What say we continue this tomorrow?"

  She nodded. "Sure, okay. Think I'm gonna stay out here for a while though."

  "Enjoy the day then." He waved as he headed for the steps. "See you tomorrow."

  "You too." She followed him to the top of the stairs, waving as he left.

  Arms crossed, she leaned against a column. Not many could claim such a first meeting as her step-father and mother had. A lot different than the bar story her dad had told her.

  A sense of belonging filled her up, a kind of balm over an empty cold place warmed her chest. She didn't have her own memories, but she had the memories of the men who'd loved her mother, one of them still did. The sensation felt wonderful.

  The shadow of a man, a very large man fell on the path. Mitch. He passed beneath the long-reaching branch of a tree, his eyes on the ground and wearing a scowl that said his thoughts weren't pleasant.

  He hadn't seen her yet.

  She could run.

  She could take off right now and pretend she wasn't in the gazebo at all. Poised to do just that, she stepped onto the first stair. His eyes snapped up and locked on her as if they were search and destroy missiles waiting for movement.

  Her heart thudded and she inhaled sharply. She could still run. To hell with whether he'd seen her or not. No way would she subject herself to him, to his scent, to the memory of what he'd done to her in the stable. How he'd won her heart. She took another step.

  "Jess. Don't. Please," Mitch called, quickening his pace. "I need to talk to you."

  She stopped at the word need, whether by instinct or by habit, it didn't matter. He'd found her sore spot. "What?"

  He joined her on the stairs, his entire body tense. Those dark eyes she couldn't resist turned fully on her. "Don't run from me anymore. Let's talk."

  She didn't answer, didn't know what to say. Shrugging her shoulders, she mumbled. "I wasn't running from you."

  He grabbed her hand and dragged her toward the bench. His touch made her stomach tighten, made her bra feel a size too small. Without a doubt, I have no self control. "My dad is gonna expect me to call him soon. He's probably sitting by the phone right now."

  That wasn't exactly true, but she did call around lunch each day now, and he might be waiting for her this early. Pulling her hand free, she plopped down beside Mitch. Lifting her thighs, she shoved her hands safely beneath them and looked at her sneakers. "I'm gonna need a new pair soon."

  From the corner of her eyes she caught him glance at her shoes. "They look fine to me."

  Wiggling them back and forth so the laces snapped against the leather, she nodded. "Yeah, maybe they're still good."

  "Okay." He waited a few silent seconds that sucked out the air in the space between them and left it filled with tension. "Do you think you're ready now? Or should we discuss your jeans?"

  She smiled at that, straightened and looked at him. Big mistake. "What's wrong with my jeans?"

  He grinned at her teasing tone.

  Oh, big-BIG mistake. She turned away from that endearing smile. "If you have something to say, I'm listening."

  "I don't have anything to say, I've got a question to ask. Two actually. Depending on your answers, I'll keep my distance until you go back to Milwaukee, or…everything will be okay between us again. I won't ask unless you give the go ahead. It's up to you."

  Yeah, sure, like she was really going to leave the gazebo not knowing what those questions were. "Ask away."

  "You sure?"

  She rolled her eyes and prayed for patience. He had no idea how hard it was to sit beside him. "Are you gonna ask, or what?"

  He heaved a breath and leaned back, his shirt stretched tight over his upper arms, the muscles outlined by sunshine. "How many messages are written on your wall back home–"

  "About a hundred," she interrupted. What a weird question. She frowned. What did that have to do with anything?

  "You didn't let me finish." He cocked his head to the side, studying her. "I was gonna ask, how many of those messages are for you?"

  "Oh," she said. She studied the roof, thinking. "I don't know, but they're all from my dad's friends."

  "And?"

  She shrugged. "So? What are you getting at."

  "How come none of your friends wrote on the wall?"

  "You didn't."

  "That's different. We left in a hurry. Answer the question."

  "My friends always leave in a hurry too." She was lying and she knew he knew it. She stood and went to the
other side of the gazebo, his silence following her all the way. She spun on him, suddenly angry. "Look, you want me to admit it, I'll admit it. I don't have any friends of my own. Okay? You happy? Was that your second question because I'm really not in any mood to get the third degree from you."

  Mitch came to her and placed his hands on her arms, rubbing her shoulders gently with his thumbs. There was no room to step back from him, no escape. He smelled amazing. Like…sweet, fresh hay in the afternoon.

  "No, that's not what I wanted you to admit to. I wanted you to see you've got proof he'll be okay."

  "What?" She stared at his chest, afraid to hear him, afraid to be this close to him. The urge to plug her ears and not have her own conclusions voiced aloud kept getting waylaid by his heat and scent. The security of his nearness was something she'd come to rely on, come to know as a shield between her and death, and now it opened doors that led to a new life. To a world where she wasn't needed by anyone at all.

  "You have a wall full of written proof that your dad will never be alone. He has good, loyal friends to look out for him. Proof that you don't have to take care of him anymore."

  Tears burned into her eyes. There it was. Undeniable. The truth she didn't want to accept but had to, regardless of her fears. Her father didn't need her anymore. "What was your second question?"

  * * *

  Mitch stepped back, almost forgetting his second question. Her hair smelled so damned good and her skin was so hot beneath his hands. Part of him felt like a jerk for doing this to her, the other couldn't let her live in the cocoon she'd wrapped herself in. Being near her again proved no part of him could stomach losing her.

  "Mitch?" she asked, her voice a mere whisper, green eyes glittering with unshed tears.

  He cleared his throat. This was it, the moment he'd tell her the decision he'd made, but hadn't let himself realize before. Whatever it took to be by her side, to stay with her, he would. He'd been a fool for waiting this long already. "If…if I were to come to Milwaukee, to get a place and set myself up out there as I did here…would that make a difference?"