“And I will be…because of you?”
Testing me again. But I swear to god she’s flirting with me. A mischievous tone in her voice and a sparkle in her bright eyes. I respond the same way but I’m a thousand percent sincere in my answer. “Always.”
“Then I guess he didn’t tell you how much trouble I can be. I’m way too much for just one bodyguard to handle.”
Not flirting. Teasing. Good natured and playful for someone who’s aware of the reputation that precedes her. Although I’m not sure how much of the negativity is truly earned as charming as she is.
“Oh, he told me. That’s why I’m charging him triple. Because I’m as good as having three guys protecting you.”
Pretty witty comeback for an old man. I guess she thinks so too because she laughs. Honest, full, and sincere, eliminating any lingering awkwardness between us.
“Cocky much?”
“Only because I’ve earned it.” Her enormous grin blows up even more when I wink at her, and I chuckle myself. I’m going to like having her as my client. Now that’s out of the way, we’ll get along just fine. “Come on trouble, let me show you your new apartment.”
The gentleman in me can’t help but defy her father’s orders to let her be independent and struggle a little. That’s just not how I’m wired. I reach to grab the strap of her bag, but she shakes her head. Surprising me that she doesn’t seem to want—or expect—any assistance.
“Thanks, but I’ve got it.”
Well fuck me. “Okay then.”
I still hold the door open as she maneuvers through the entryway and down the narrow hallway on her own. Despite the urge within me, I fight against my instinct to take care of her.
My chest constricts from the outrageous thought. Not her. Any woman. I would carry stuff and open doors for any woman I’m around. She’s no different.
I follow her through the corridor until she stops in front of the next entrance and looks up at me expectantly. Reminding me how petite she is with both of us crowded into the small space. Confirming how vulnerable she is with her willowy body only inches from mine. Proving all my abundant precautions to safeguard her are more than necessary and beyond warranted.
“Is this one mine?”
A thin finger points to the silver ‘2’ I affixed to the black wood this morning. Unaware the simple number also serves as a motion detector with the sensors hidden in the screw heads. “Yeah, this is it. Let me see your mobile, and I’ll upload the app for you to be able to lock and unlock the door.”
Without any hesitation, she taps in her passcode and hands over the phone. Stirring conflict in me that I didn’t expect. I like the fact that she trusts me so readily, although I’m also very aware she shouldn’t. Not yet anyway. But she must as she doesn’t even watch me work or check out the screen to see what I’m doing. Beneficial since she has no idea that I’m also adding a tracking device, as well as software to monitor her calls and texts, but still way too gullible. No wonder she needs me.
I step closer to show her the instructions, and her sultry scent inundates me as her bare shoulder brushes my forearm. A contradictory confection of floral and musk that befits her personality. Of course, she gets the process in one try. Technology effortless and intuitive for her generation. Proving she’ll be brilliant at this social media internship her father set up for her.
The lock clicks free, and I twist the knob, motioning for her to enter first. Golden rays break through the unadorned windows and streak across the hardwood. Her face lighting up almost as dazzling as the sunshine while her gaze sweeps through the sparse space. Only occupied by a king size bed, two huge white club chairs, and a black oval coffee table. I just got the basics so she could select what she really wants for herself. “What do you think?”
“I love it.” She runs her hand across the exposed brick on one of the pillars and spins around to face me again. “I know I’m a geek, but I always wonder about the people who built these old buildings and worked here and lived here. What their lives were like back then.”
“Probably much harder than ours.”
“Definitely.”
She laughs softly, waving her hand through the air at the amenities within the room. With the huge flat screen dominating a quarter of the wall, the air conditioning lightly blowing wisps of her hair, and the row of gleaming appliances filling her L-shaped kitchen, we both recognize how spoiled we are. “Archie’s is the local grocery delivery service, and there’s a—”
“Thanks, but I want to pick things out myself. Maybe explore my new town for a little bit after I go for my run.”
Yeah, because it’s Friday night and she wants to go out like most twenty-one-year-olds.
“You have Uber here, right?”
Fuck. I guess I’m going out too because there’s no way in hell I can let her roam the city alone or ride around with a damn stranger. “I actually need a few things myself. How about we get in a quick run together and then I can give you a ride to the shops?”
I sound like a tosser, a little too eager and a lot too obvious. She apparently agrees from the phony smile covering her now pinched face. I guess she thought things would be different here. That she’d actually get to taste the freedom her dad dangled in front of her. Enjoy living unconstrained like her father enticed her with to accept this situation. Yet she can’t forget the line between independent and unprotected is too thin not to break if she isn’t careful. If I’m not careful.
“Sure, sounds good.”
Absolutely zero enthusiasm. I try not to be too insulted. Guarding her isn’t personal. It’s a job. And both of us will do very well to remember that fact.
I don’t know what the fuck she’s thinking, but she sure as hell isn’t going out like that.
Bobbing her head and mouthing the words to whatever song is playing on her phone attached to her bicep, she crouches down to tighten her laces. Oblivious to me staring at her when all I see is skin. Way too much for me and everyone else.
Her earlier disappointment from having to tolerate me accompanying her during her evening out must have faded with the grin she gives me when she catches sight of me.
“Hey!”
She yanks out an ear bud and rises, giving me a full view of her gorgeous body barely covered in tiny white shorts and a pink sports bra. And. Nothing. Else. Jesus. “You need to put a shirt on.”
Her gaze flicks to my bare chest, lingering on the ink marking my pecs and stomach, before meeting my eyes again. Quirking an eyebrow at me from the irony. But I’m not playing that game. “It’s not the same.”
She laughs. The sweet sound invading my muscles strained with irritation from her defiance. Glorious and enticing but not enough to make me change my mind. “Evie.”
Absolutely no effect from my growl at her. Not even a bit concerned with the warning flashing in my tone. She has the audacity to roll her eyes and drop back down to finish messing with her shoe. Fuck that. I grasp her arms and haul her to her feet.
Genuine fear floods her wide eyes, while disgust pools in my stomach from the faint yellow bruising still visible on her left cheek. Rage seethes in her face, and she twists uselessly against my fists. “What are you doing?”
What the fuck am I doing? Shit. Bodyguards don’t manhandle their clients regardless of how disobedient they are. I loosen my grasp and caress up and down the heated skin in apology for being too damn rough. “Getting your attention. You need to cover yourself.”
“I always wear this when I run at home.”
“Well you’re in the Midwest now, and women here are more modest.”
Because men are dirty bastards everywhere and won’t hesitate for a second to ogle her. I can’t allow that to happen any more than it probably already does.
“Oh.”
She accepts my exaggeration of the regional differences, unaware that I’m pretty much full of shit. I’ve seen similar and even worse here, but she doesn’t need to know that. I release her completely, and she quickl
y steps back. Putting as much space between us as she can until she bumps into her door. Never tearing her eyes from mine as she reaches back to turn the knob and scurries into her apartment.
I force myself not to follow her. And do what? Apologize. Explain. Rationalize.
Fuck.
Frustration pulses through me while I pace. This is why I don’t like these kinds of jobs. I’m not good with people unless I’m assassinating them. That’s easy. This—with her—is harder than hell. I should have told Nick no. I should have told him fuck no and fuck himself. I should have told him—
Evie fills the entryway. Hands balled in tiny fists on each side of her narrow waist. Beautiful and contrary in a black tank top. A damn fucking tank top rather than the tee shirt I demanded.
I should tell him thank you for bringing someone so amazing to fill my dull, lifeless existence. That gorgeous eyebrow lifts again. Just waiting for me to argue or fuss or attack. I shock her by doing absolutely nothing. Just stare back into her luminous sapphire eyes.
We face off. Neither of us willing to back down or back off. Until she finally fails to stifle the grin she’s been fighting since she returned to the corridor.
“I think you’re even more stubborn than I am.”
I nod in complete agreement. “I think you’re a hell of a lot more trouble.”
“Told you.”
I can’t help but sigh. Long and laborious with exaggeration. “Yes, you did.”
She tries to brush past me, looking over her shoulder with a smirk as she jogs toward the steps. But I hustle around her. Huge mistake on her part if she thinks I’ll let her go first when we leave the building without me checking for issues. Unlikely anyone will be waiting to ambush us, but you never know. And I always have to know.
With her behind me, I palm her stomach to hold her in place until I give the all clear. Her petite body shivers under my hand. When I glance back to see what’s going on, her eyes stay glued to the step. Must be a reaction to the heavy breeze blowing off the river because she can’t be scared. She knows this routine and understands what I would do to protect her. I scan each inch of the sidewalk, scrutinizing all the windows and perusing every line of rooftops. Sweeping across both directions twice until I’m satisfied she’s safe.
I don’t get any complaint when I step outside and give her leeway to join me. I guess she is used to waiting for security inspections after all. Good. At least we don’t have that to argue about. “Ready?”
“Yeah.” She taps her mobile and a map pops up on the screen, a thick red line reflecting the route she’s already selected. “I thought we could go on River Trail B. It’s only six miles so if you want something longer we can go on C instead.”
Only. She’s going to fucking kill me. Shrugging with a nonchalance I hope seems legit, I nod. “Nah, B is fine.”
Her stunning smile answers in response, and we walk in silence toward the new barbeque place that’s prepping to open in a few weeks. Once we pass the last orange barrier edging the construction zone, she eases into a run. Well I guess that’s all the warmup we’re going to get.
I keep pace when she kicks up to what I assume is her regular speed, but just barely. Her short legs move fast next to my long strides. Okay, so I’m not keeping up when she juts out in front of me a few times and has to slow to wait for me to catch up next to her. Fucking embarrassing.
After a few minutes we settle into a matching tempo. Too slow for her and almost too fast for me. Although I appreciate her lack of arrogance or insult about my weak cardio game. Only a few cheerful grins when I glance at her as part of my continuous inspection of our surroundings. Just because I’m flailing like a tosser doesn’t mean I can slack on my guard duties.
“I love your accent. What part of England are you from?”
Really? She wants to talk now when I can barely suck oxygen into my lungs? “Grantham. A small town about one hundred and twenty miles north of London.”
“Oh wow! I’ve always wanted to visit London. Did you get to go a lot?”
“My mates and I took the train almost every weekend until I met my wife. Then I settled down for a while.”
Then I lost her and my mind for a while. Confusion lines her flushed face since I obviously live very much alone now.
“So you’re divorced?”
“Widowed.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.”
That admission quiets her down after her whispered condolences. I should be grateful for her silence so I can actually breathe. But I’m not. I hate the pity on her face. The discomfort between us. The anger flaring along with the debilitating grief aching in my chest at Madeline for hurting me in the worst possible way imaginable before she passed.
“You worked for my Dad before.”
More of a declaration than a question. She’s figured out the history Nick and I must have for him to trust me to protect her. “I guarded your mum when her regular bodyguard Max had some personal stuff going on.”
This time she glances at me. An expression I can’t decipher on her face until she lifts her hands, curling her fingers into air quotes. “Max—my uncle.”
“I like and respect Max.” Uncertain if I have to defend him to her or not because the mockery seems to be directed more to his faux title, since he’s her father’s best friend and not his brother, rather than against him. But I refuse to let her slight him. “He’s a good man.”
The wistful smile growing on her lips confirms she agrees. Which gratifies me. I’d be disappointed in her if she didn’t appreciate him in the way he deserves because I know what he’s done—the sacrifices he’s made—for her. “I miss him. All of them actually. I didn’t know I’d be so homesick already. I guess that’s kind of pathetic.”
A pink tinge runs up her cheeks that isn’t from exertion. Unlike the blaze burning on my face since I’m about ready to collapse. “Not pathetic at all. They’re your family. Nothing wrong with missing them.”
This absolution seems to please her. Encouraging her to continue. “My grandmother…” More air quotes as she nods conspiratorially since I know the truth. “…Marta hasn’t been doing well. We thought we were going to lose her twice…” A hard swallow contracts in her slender throat overcome with emotion that I completely understand. “…luckily she keeps pulling through. I’m scared though she won’t the next time.”
I nod in agreement with her whisper. If my math is correct, Marta has to be at least ninety. The housekeeper’s always been a resilient lady, so I’m not surprised she’s still going. Hopefully continues to for a lot longer.
“That’s why I’m so frustrated with my dad. He wants me to have this big, life-altering journey but the only life I really want is back at home with my family.”
Her voice cracks for the second time, and she shakes her head. Seemingly aggravated at herself for sounding weak. But I don’t think she’s weak at all. Nor do I blame her. I miss my family too.
“I guess I’m just not used to being alone. Even when I was in school, I lived with my cousin Theo. He wasn’t my bodyguard, but he acted like he was. He always looked out for me even if I didn’t ask him to.”
Her tone’s more indulgent than exasperated with Max’s son. That’s how those men are—they protect their women regardless if they’re actually related or not. If you’re in, then you’re in all the way.
“If he’s like his Dad, then I’m sure he’s meticulous to a fault taking care of you.”
“They all are.” Her nod contradicts with the frown pulling down her lips. “When everything happened with Caleb, my Dad told me about what my Mom did when she thought she needed to save him. That’s why he’s so overprotective of her and me. It freaked me out that she almost died, and I promised him I wouldn’t take any more risks. But of course, he didn’t believe me. So that’s why I’m here and you’re stuck babysitting me.”
Another dramatic eye roll, but she doesn’t really mean the aggravation she feigns. She knows she’s loved. She knows she’s lucky a
nd blessed.
Pervasive and persistent agony creeps in from the thought. From the relentless torture that gives me too many sleepless nights. Insomnia from wondering if Aiden knew all of those things before he was gone. I’ve driven myself almost insane questioning if my son knew how much I loved him before he died.
“Hey.” Her delicate fingertips brush my forearm. Concern frowning her forehead. “Are you okay?”
The worry in her touch jerks me out of my contemplation, and I focus on our location again. Needing to get my shit together and protect her the way I’m supposed to. The way I want to. “I’m fine, love. Thanks.”
I force myself to be fine. I concentrate on her and the uneven concrete leading to the wooden bridge and the four men about thirty yards ahead jogging toward us. All of them seeming to take interest in her. That’s the crap shoot when you guard an exquisite woman like her. Ambiguous as to whether they’re interested in her because she’s beautiful, or because she’s going to be used as the pawn to bring a crime lord to his knees.
She keeps her head down when they pass by. A defensive mechanism she probably doesn’t even realize she employs to keep from encouraging more of their unwanted attention. Hopefully grateful too for the clothes I made her wear. At least I am, even though I was an arse about convincing her. Which I need to rectify.
Only one bloke looks back once they are behind us. Smarmy but harmless. I could down all of them easily, without much effort. Luckily, I don’t have to for her sake. I don’t want to frighten her any more than I already have today. “By the way, I’m sorry about earlier. I shouldn’t have been such a wanker about you wearing a tee shirt.”
A giggle bubbles through her. Not at all the reaction I was expecting from my sincere apology. “Something funny?”
“What the hell is a wanker?”
“Me, apparently.”
Her turn to wink at me. “Only sometimes.”
We round the end of the path, curving past the old corn mill they restored last year, with the ease between us finally returning. So of course, I’m the idiot to ruin the harmony. She needs to know I’m aware of what she did and how stupid and dangerous it was. “And you too…sometimes. Like with Caleb.”
Another Round Page 3