Distractions wouldn’t get him his old job back.
“Troy, do you have a minute?” Bethany popped her head around the corner of the living room and gave him a sweet smile that made his stomach warm. Her blonde hair fell in beachy waves around her face. She’d taken the time that morning to powder something on her cheeks that made it look like she’d just come in from spending all day in the sun.
Troy frowned and glanced down at his laptop. He’s sent out about a dozen emails in the last hour. If he wanted this witness protection job to end sooner, rather than later, he needed to keep the ball rolling on the case. He’d been nudging every one of his sources to help him find Freddy Mack. But the work was done and now there was nothing left to do but wait.
“I suppose.”
He closed the computer and stood from the recliner. An orange blob darted across the room, pausing long enough in the hallway to throw him a scathing look. Troy made a face at the cat. For some reason, the thing had taken to sitting on the back of his chair while he worked. No matter how many times he shooed it, the infuriating thing always came back. He was as annoying as his owner.
Bethany’s head disappeared back behind the wall, so he followed her until he found himself in the kitchen. Pots and pans lay scattered over the countertops. About a dozen scents hit him at once: spicy, savory, and sweet. He felt sorely tempted to lift the lids on all the pots to discover what exactly waited inside them.
“I need you to try these.” Bethany held a cookie sheet toward him with about a dozen or so chocolate chip cookies fresh from the oven.
Instantly, Troy’s stomach gave a growl and he eyed her suspiciously. “I didn’t know you were such a cook.”
“Oh, I’m not.” She tossed her head and smiled. “But if we’re going to be stuck here, I thought I might as well give it a shot. Fulfill my wifely duties, and all that.”
Once again, alarm bells rang in Troy’s head. He knew there was something underneath Bethany’s cheery tone and the way she smiled at him, as if she were some adoring housewife from the sixties. Still, he couldn’t see anything wrong with accepting a cookie or two. And he was starving. He hadn’t eaten all day.
Six cookies later and he found himself perched on the bar stool next to the kitchen counter, reaching for his seventh. Bethany had busied herself with checking on something cooking in the oven. His eyes swept over her flowery dress and down to her shapely calves as she bent down to get a look.
Despite the fact that he hadn’t dated much during his tenure in the FBI, he could still recognize a good looking woman when he saw one. Bethany had that effortlessly stylish kind of vibe. A sort of girl-next-door beauty that drew the eye. If she wasn’t currently under his protection, he might have asked a woman like her for a date.
But the fact that she was crazy pretty much nixed that idea. Besides, he’d given up on the idea of dating and marriage. There were no women looking for the kind of life he could offer them.
“Do you like it?” Bethany looked up at him and caught him staring.
He quickly averted his gaze toward the baked good in his hand, as if pondering its existence. “Yes. Reminds me of the kind my mom makes. She sends me a couple dozen from Montana every chance she gets.”
His mother was the kind of woman to always have a jar full of cookies on the countertop. He blamed his weakness for desserts on her.
“Now, that’s a compliment.” Bethany tucked her dress underneath as she perched herself on the stool next to him. “My mom always said, if a man compares your cooking to his mothers’ and is still happy, you’re winning at marriage. I suppose this means we’re meant-to-be.”
He forced out a laugh and then eyed her seriously. “You do know this is a fake marriage, right? It’s only temporary.”
He hadn’t thought her craziness extended to deluding herself about their relationship, but then again, someone who put her stock into luck and karma and all those things might not be too far off from believing this marriage was real. The idea set a flurry of nerves bouncing around his stomach.
“Of course, silly.” Bethany swatted him on the shoulder and laughed. “But, we really have no idea how long I’ll be in the witness protection program. It could be months—or years—before the dust settles. That’s longer than some real marriages.”
Troy’s lips twitched with an unenthusiastic smile. She had a point. They could be forced to share this home for a long time if his sources didn’t pull through and nail Gerald Void to the ground. He could be living down the hall from Bethany for a very long time. Sleeping in the room next to her. Eating the same food. Staring at her perfect lips each day as she gave him that sweet smile...
“Troy.” Bethany tapped a finger on her mouth and hummed, bringing his focus back to their conversation. “That’s your last name, right?”
He nodded, chewing slowly on the cookie. “Yes, but no one ever calls me by my first name anymore. Except for my parents.”
She leaned toward him, resting her chin on her hand. “Let me guess. You’re a Randall? No...maybe a Charles? Or, how about Alexander?”
He had the feeling this guessing game could go on all day if he didn’t put a stop to it. “Actually, it’s Jonathan. Jonathan Troy.”
Her eyes lit up and she grinned. “Johnny. How cute.”
His lips pressed into a thin line. The last time someone had dared to describe him as cute was when he was a two-month old. He preferred manly, or buff, or fearsome. Not cute.
“So tell me, Johnny.” She walked her fingers across the countertop and covered his hand with her own. “How does a guy like you stay single this long? Surely, you’ve got a girlfriend waiting for you in the big city?”
Troy shook his head. He wasn’t sure if it was the sugar, or the warmth of her hand on his, but he was having trouble keeping his mouth shut. “No. I had a girlfriend. Actually, a fiancée. But she couldn’t handle my career and she left. I suppose I kind of gave up hope on finding a woman who would put up with that.”
Bethany leaned back suddenly, her eyes filling with pity. “She left you because of your job?”
“Yeah, we were together for three years during college.” He shrugged, brushing off the brief prickling of pain in his chest. “Last I heard, Sarah returned to her hometown, got married and has three kiddos of her own. That was the kind of life she always wanted. I just couldn’t give it to her.”
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d mentioned Sarah’s name aloud. It felt strange on the tongue.
“Anyway, that’s ancient history.” He slipped his hand out from under hers and grabbed another cookie, shoving it into his mouth. “I’ve accepted that I’m always going to be alone. It doesn’t bother me. I have my work.”
Bethany tilted her head to one side, studying him. The weight of her gaze on his face made him shift uncomfortably in his chair. He needed a change of topic—and fast.
“What about you?” He stared pointedly at the four-leaf charm hanging around her neck. “Still single? Maybe you need some more of that luck you’ve been talking about. Or, is your mom convinced you need a sign to lead you to the one?”
She smirked and then ducked her head, clasping the charm in her hand. “Still single. I’m okay with taking my time, but my mom desperately wants me to find the one before she passes. I guess she doesn’t want me to be alone when the time comes.”
Guilt filled his stomach like a bag of lead. He’d forgotten about her mother’s illness. That was heartless of him.
He reached out and gently placed his hand on her upper arm, feeling his skin tingle where it met hers. “I’m sorry about your mom. I can’t imagine watching the person I love deal with that.”
Bethany looked up at him, unshed tears glistening in the corners of her eyes. She smiled and sniffed softly. “Thanks. It’s been hard. Her lucid moments are getting shorter and farther apart. I’m afraid the mom I know isn’t going to be around for much longer.”
Silence fell between them. Troy searched for the words to say to make it all better
, but his tongue had been nailed to the roof of his mouth. Instead, he leaned over and grabbed Bethany’s hand, squeezing it warmly.
“I think you need these cookies more than I do.” Plucking one off the baking sheet, he turned her hand over and placed it gently in her palm. “Trust me. Sugar makes it all better.”
She shook her head and laughed, biting her lower lip as she captured his gaze again. “You know, sugar doesn’t solve everything.”
“Maybe not.” He leaned in closer to her, a grin tugging at one side of his mouth. “But it’s never let me down yet.”
Laughter burst from Bethany’s lips. With a shrug, she took a slow bite of the cookie and hummed with pleasure. Troy felt a wave of warmth flow over him, settling in his gut. Once again, he found himself staring at her mouth, wondering what was so fascinating about it. She probably tasted like chocolate. Or cinnamon candies. Or something equally delicious and spicy.
“I don’t suppose there’s any way to convince you to release me from this protection program?” Bethany’s voice drew his gaze back up to her eyes. She studied him with a hopeful expression. “I just know there’s a way I could figure out how to keep my job without getting caught. And I could be there for my mom. Please, Troy.”
The warmth he’d been feeling only seconds ago was instantly replaced with a shock of cold frustration. The cookies and heart-to-heart had been no accident. She’d been playing him, working him over, to get what she wanted. But he was no pushover, even when his blood sugar soared.
She had no idea just how dangerous Gerald Void’s family could be. He’d seen too many key witnesses disappear over the past decade. They knew how to get away with their crimes. He couldn’t let that happen to Bethany.
“Not a chance and that’s the end of it.” He leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest, the bitter taste of disappointment filling his mouth. “I think I’d better get back to work.”
Bethany pursed her lips and glared at him through narrowed eyes. It was clear what she thought of him. She hated him for keeping her here. He fought the urge to defend himself. No matter how bad she thought she had it here, being out there, on her own, would be so much worse. He was here to protect her at all costs.
It wasn’t like he wanted to be attached to her in some farce of a marriage. He had better things to do than sit around all day checking his email for news and swatting away her cat. But here he was, putting his life on the line for her and she couldn’t even find it in her heart to be the tiniest bit grateful.
“Listen, Bethany.” He cleared his throat, trying to think of the best way to soften the blow. She blinked up at him with annoyance written on her face. “I’m sorry this is so hard for you—”
At that moment, the doorbell rang. Bethany sat up straight in her chair, a grim expression appearing on her face. “Would you look at that? Not a minute too soon.”
Troy felt his whole body tense. He wished he hadn’t left his gun in the other room. A sense of dread washed over him. “Bethany, who’s at the door?”
“You’ll see.” Frustration flashed in her eyes as she drifted from the bar stool and toward the front door. She threw one last glance at him over her shoulder. “Have I got a surprise for you, husband of mine.”
Troy didn’t know what kind of surprise Bethany had cooking, but he had a feeling it was going to be a lot less sweet than the half dozen cookies currently sitting like rocks in the pit of his stomach.
That woman didn’t know when to give up.
Chapter Nine
Bethany
Bethany’s heart pounded as she flew to answer the door. She’d been working hard all day to prepare for this event. If putting Troy on the spot at the barbecue last night hadn’t worked, surely this would make him frustrated enough to leave her alone to handle her own safety.
Still, as she grasped the door handle, a bit of guilt ate away at the pit of her stomach. They’d just connected over freshly baked cookies and their failed dating lives. She’d unexpectedly opened up to him about her mother’s dying desires. He’d seemed genuinely sympathetic, like he really cared about her. And maybe, a part of him did care. As much as she hated to admit it, Troy wasn’t the bad guy in this situation.
Sure, he was basically holding her here against her will. This witness protection plan was overkill. But in his mind, he was probably doing what he thought was right. Troy was a decent man. A man with honor and sheer will to do good. Not to mention, an impressive set of biceps and a rare smile that made her feel weak in the knees.
But she didn’t have time to let her feelings get the better of her. Every day she was stuck here in this no-good, bad luck situation was another day for her dreams to slip away. She could win back her job. Be there for her ailing mother. If only she could make Troy and the rest of the FBI back off.
Asking him nicely hadn’t worked. So now, it was down to plan B.
She made sure her fake smile was in place and then threw open the front door. “Welcome, neighbors!” Bethany stepped out onto the front porch. She’d invited Angelica, Olivia, and their husbands over last night during the thirty seconds her so-called adoring hubby had let her out of his sight. “We’re so glad you could come.”
They stood on the porch with beaming smiles, as if they’d been invited to dine at the White House. Bethany stepped aside so they could pile inside, oohing and awwing at the decorations the FBI had picked out for her temporary home.
“Nothing could make us miss Troy’s birthday,” Angelica exclaimed, turning her brilliant smile toward a bewildered Agent Troy still perched on a bar stool. “Happy birthday, old man!”
“Birthday?” Troy’s chiseled jaw fell open as he surveyed their boisterous guests. “It’s not my birthday.”
“Sure, it is!” George Mertens clapped Troy hard on the back and laughed. “You can’t avoid them, son, as much as you’d like to try. The years catch up with you.”
“Your wife told us you were going to skip your birthday this year because of the move.” Olivia slid in next to her husband and shrugged. “But your new friends aren’t going to let you miss out on the fun.”
Bethany placed her hand over her mouth to keep from laughing, her mood suddenly lifting. The confusion on Troy’s face was more than comical.
“Yep, tonight’s all about you buddy.” Steven Huber nudged Troy with his elbow and dropped a gift bag in his lap. “Happy birthday, neighbor.”
“Oh, that reminds me.” Bethany flitted across the kitchen and pulled open the oven door to reveal a lasagna she’d painstakingly put together that afternoon. “Supper’s ready! Take a seat in the dining room, everyone.”
They migrated toward the table she’d set that afternoon with the fanciest dishes she could find in the cupboards. An impressive spread had been laid out, including veggie platters, fruit bowls, rolls, and every assortment of food the FBI had stocked in the cupboards.
After the awkwardness of yesterday, Troy had basically ignored her existence all day, allowing her to prep without causing suspicion. As she made a move to follow the group into the dining room, a hand closed around her arm and pulled her back.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Troy was looking down at her, his broad shoulders tensed. His brow was furrowed in a scowl. “What is this supposed to accomplish?”
“It’s just an innocent celebration.” She splayed a hand on his chest, swallowing hard at the warm sensation cascading down her arm. “A party. I’ve got to have some kind of distraction while I’m here, or I’m going to go crazy.”
He eyed her as if he thought she’d already gone past crazy. With a reluctant sigh, he released her arm and shook his head. “Just do me a favor and keep the backstory to a minimum tonight. The least suspicion we draw to ourselves, the better.”
“Deal.” She gave him a winning smile and dropped her hand from his chest. “Come along, cutie pie.”
He shot her a dark look. “I think we can both agree that if this marriage was real, cutie pie would be the last nickname I w
ould choose for myself.”
She snorted with laughter and led him into the dining room where their neighbors had already settled at the spots she’d labeled with tiny golden cards that featured their names in cursive writing. Troy’s seat was at the head of the table and hers at the opposite end. She directed him to his spot and went to fetch the lasagna.
“All right, everyone. It’s time to eat!” She placed the impressive dish on the table and took her seat to start the meal.
Dinner with the neighbors did not disappoint. Their new friends chattered away happily for an hour and a half, talking about their kids they’d left home with the babysitters, the mundane ins and outs of their jobs, house payments, current events, politics. They left nothing out.
Bethany could see Troy’s face perfectly throughout the entire thing, the discomfort on his face priceless. She had no doubt he’d rather be glued to his computer, working on whatever it was that FBI agents did out of the field. This suburban existence was a special kind of torment for a man like him. She pressed her fingers to her lips, covering her smile. He’d come around to her way of thinking, sooner or later. She just needed to convince him that this fake marriage wouldn’t work.
By the time dinner was done and everyone was chatted out, it was getting late. The sun had set long ago and the leftover food gone cold. Bethany could sense that their neighbors were ready to leave. Troy seemed to feel it, too. He’d perked up a bit, shifting in his chair as if ready to jump at the first sign of them heading toward the door.
Bethany rose from her seat, one last surprise up her sleeve to extend the evening to an unbearable length. Maybe, if she was lucky, George Mertens would once again bring up his theory that the FBI covered up the Kennedy assassination. That would be sure to get Troy’s blood pressure rising.
“I can’t believe I almost forgot! Nobody move yet.” She hurried toward the refrigerator and pulled out a triple layer chocolate cake decorated with fudgy frosting and chocolate shavings sprinkled on top. It was a recipe she’d memorized by heart. The cake her mother used to make every Easter. “We can’t forget the birthday cake for our birthday boy.”
Faking Ever After with the Bodyguard: A Sweet Fake Romance Page 6