Mister Bodyguard (The Morgan Brothers Book 4)

by Lauren Rowe

  “I know. He’s super pumped about it. Thank Aloha for posting that tweet about his album, will ya? Dax said it was perfectly timed. Did Reed put her up to it?”

  “Nope, that was all Aloha. We listened to the album together on a bus ride and she went crazy for it. She posted the tweet right then and there, without any prompting by me or anyone else. Has Dax said how the tour is going so far?”

  “Way better than expected. He said Red Card Riot has been super cool to them and the audiences at their first two shows were totally lit. He said it was a dream come true to play a huge, sold-out arena like that, even if nobody came to see them.”

  “I’m so pumped for them.”

  “Me, too. But enough about Daxy. Let’s get to the sex, kitty cat. You fucked the mouse yet? Are you in lurve?”

  “Enough with the bet. I can’t take it anymore. It’s nobody’s goddamned business.”

  “Ooooh, that’s an interesting response. The guy who swore it’d ‘never’ happen is now saying it’s nobody’s business, huh? I’ll take that as a ‘Yes, Peenie, I am most certainly in love with the pop star.’”

  “I’m not in love and I haven’t so much as kissed her. I’m just saying the bet is bullshit. Intrusive. Douchey and disrespectful.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Yes.”

  “You had no problem putting your hundred in the pot almost a month ago.”

  I sigh.

  “Dude, listen to me. The one-monthers only have a few more days to win the pot and they’re breathing down my neck. Have you fallen for her yet or not?”

  “Not.”

  “Put your eyeballs right up to the camera and say that again.”

  I put one eyeball right up to the camera. “Aloha and I are friends. I haven’t dabbled with her and I’m not going to. And, no, I’m not in love with her. Now, stop with the fucking bet. I’m done with it.”

  “Ho-lee shit,” Keane whispers, his blue eyes wide.

  “What?”

  “Okay, Z. The cat’s officially outta the bag now. In fact, the damn cat’s running around, chasing a big ol’ ball of yellow yarn. I’m calling the bet.”

  “What cat? What yarn? I’m telling the truth. I’m not in love with her.”

  “You’re such a liar. I was almost gonna call the bet the last time we talked, but I didn’t out of an abundance of respect for you. But now, I’m one thousand percent positive you’re totally and completely in love with the pop star. The bet’s done.”

  “You’re wrong.”

  “You do realize all the one-monthers think you’re three sheets to the wind drunk on this girl, right? And I’ve been the only thing holding them back from staging a coup.”

  “Keep holding them back. You’re on the side of truth and justice, my friend.”

  “Z, it’s not just the one-monthers who think you’re gone, baby, gone. It’s the entire world. Every human on the planet—and that’s not a figure of speech—even people living in mud huts in Malawi—are like, ‘Oh, that new bodyguard of Aloha Carmichael’s? He’s most definitely in love with her!’”

  I can’t help laughing. “Well, the entire world is dead wrong.”

  “Come on, brah. Those videos Aloha’s been posting of the two of you working out together in hotel gyms across America are like hashtag relationship goals. Not to mention soft core porn.”

  “Aloha thought it would be fun to inspire her fans to get themselves into the gym.”

  “Mmm hmm. A plausible story except for the fact that the two of you can’t keep your hands off each other in those videos. Dude, when you bench press her, her ass is right in your face. When she wraps her legs around your waist and does those hanging sit-ups, you two might as well be fucking.”

  “It’s a partner workout, dude. Look it up.”

  “Mmm hmm. Did you know you’re a meme, Z?”

  “No.”

  “Hold on. I’ll find one. They’re hilarious.” Keane clacks some keys on his laptop and, two seconds later, he’s got his phone trained on his screen—on a photo of me looking adoringly at Aloha as she hugs a young fan at a meet and greet. A caption on the photo reads, “Never settle. Find someone who looks at you the way Aloha’s bodyguard looks at her... or die alone.”

  I laugh. “I’m sure I was just thinking about getting a cheeseburger in that shot. I’m always hungry during meet and greets.”

  “It’s not just the memes that seal this deal,” Keane says. “It’s all the photos of you holding Aloha’s hand. Cradling her shoulders. Guiding her with your hand on the small of her back.”

  “Aloha feels panicky if crowds press in on her too much. She likes to feel physically connected to me. I’m her human safe space.”

  “Interesting. Then how do you explain I’ve seen multiple photos of you two holding hands when there’s nary a crowd in sight?”

  My chest tightens. “The crowds must have been out of frame.”

  “Mmm hmm. What about photos where you’re giving Aloha a piggyback ride?”

  “When Aloha feels like people are crushing in on her too much, she gives me the sign and I bend down and she hops aboard my back. She calls me her valiant steed and I call her my pretty Hawaiian princess.”

  “As all purely platonic friends do.”

  “Believe what you want. I’m done trying to convince you.”

  Keane narrows his eyes and leans into his camera, making his bright blue eyes fill the entire screen. “So your sworn testimony before this court is that you only give Aloha Carmichael piggyback rides when she’s freaked out and panicking in a big crowd?”

  “Yes.”

  He lurches back, his eyebrow cocked. “Then how do you explain this!” He turns his computer around to display a photo I’ve never seen before—a photo in which Aloha is on my back, her sling-back heels dangling from her extended finger and her head thrown back as she laughs with glee.

  I can’t help smiling at the photo. Aloha’s face in it is absolutely breathtaking. She’s the living portrait of euphoria. And, man, my face in the shot matches hers. Which is no surprise, since I remember feeling like my heart was going to explode from sheer, unadulterated joy at that particular moment. So much so, I galloped around with Aloha on my back for what had to be a full two miles like a horse with mad cow disease, simply because I didn’t want the sound of her squealing laughter to end.

  “That was a one-off,” I say calmly. “Aloha’s new heels were giving her blisters, so I told her to take ’em off and hop aboard.”

  “Oh, Z. For the love of fuck. Stop already.”

  “What?”

  “You really think you’re convincing me you’re not in love with her? To the contrary, the look on your face as you spew this bullshit makes me even more convinced I’ve got this right. You love her. Totally, completely, truly, madly, deeply.” Keane sighs. “Wifey, I’m sorry, but I gotta call the bet.”

  Panic rises inside me. “No, Peenie. Don’t.”

  “Gotta do it, baby doll. I took a vow of judiciousness, remember?”

  “Keane, listen to me. I can see how it looks from the outside. But I’m not in love with her. Not in the way everyone means for the bet, anyway. Yes, when I watch Aloha performing, I fall in love with her, each and every time—but only the way every person in every arena falls in love with her, too. I’m not in love with her the way you’re in love with Maddy.”

  “Z.”

  “Peenie, listen to me.” I take a deep breath, feeling like I’m going to hyperventilate. “You can’t call the bet. This isn’t a game to me anymore. This is life or death. Yes, I admit if Aloha showed me something unique and special—something just for me—if she let me see the parts of her she doesn’t show her ‘Aloha-nators’—then, yes, I’d probably fall head over heels for her. But all that’s happened here is I’ve fallen in love with her the same way the entire world has. And that’s not love.” I sigh. “You know how you used to be addicted to making every girl want you, even if you didn’t want the girl in return? Well
, that’s Aloha. But whereas you were all about making women want to fuck you—which, let’s face it, was never gonna be fatal for anyone involved—Aloha’s all about making men, including me, fall desperately in love with her. And that’s... dude, that’s a death sentence for any mortal man, but especially one like me. To her, my tender heart is just another one for her collection. Another one to throw onto the pile or stow in a forgotten drawer. She doesn’t want me. She wants my heart as a trophy. And once she thinks she’s gotten it—once she’s got the fix of her drug—she’ll stuff my heart into her drawer with all the others and move on to her next conquest. Which is why I can’t fall in love with her, no matter what... and why, I swear to God, I haven’t.” A little sound of pure torment escapes my lips and I clamp my mouth shut.

  “Holy shit,” Keane whispers. “You poor little big thing.”

  “Dude, you have no idea. Every minute of every day, my heart feels like it’s getting ready to burst or break, depending on the moment. And, all the while, my balls feel like they’re in a vise. I wanna fuck her so bad, I feel like I’m physically dying. But if I fuck her, then I’ll fall for her. And I can’t do that because I’ll get eviscerated.”

  Keane makes a sympathetic face. “Poor Z.”

  “Forget poor Z. This is triage, son. Poor Z’s balls. Gah. At this point, just a look from Aloha can sometimes give me a boner. And God help me if she bends over... Have I mentioned the glory of Aloha’s ass? Oh my God. That ass is stone-cold perfection, son. I have to physically look away from it sometimes so I won’t sear my corneas or whimper in pain.”

  Keane laughs.

  “It’s not funny”

  “It’s fucking hilarious.”

  “Glad you’re amused.”

  “Why not just fuck her? From what I saw at the party, she’s definitely down to fuck you. Roll the dice. Risk your heart. Or maybe things won’t work out as badly as you think.”

  “I can’t. She’s off-limits, remember?”

  “Cut the bullshit, Z. It’s me, remember? We both know you’d risk it if you thought you could get away with it. And you can.”

  I sigh. “Yeah, okay. I admit it’s not Barry holding me back anymore. I think I’ve been focusing on the Barry thing as a shield. Because I’m too scared of how badly I’m gonna get burned to a crisp here.”

  “You’re positive if you fuck her, you’ll be a full-blown goner?”

  “I’ll be a full-blown goner if I so much as kiss her, Peenie. I’m hanging on by the barest of threads.”

  “Then I say do it. Kiss her. Fuck her. Get your woman. Cannonball into the pool, son. Life is short.”

  “No. If I let myself fall for this girl, it’ll be Daphne all over again, only way worse because, this time, I’ll be the damned fool who cannonballed into an empty pool knowing it was empty.”

  “Maybe there’s water in the pool. Maybe Aloha’s feeling the same way you are.”

  “She’s not. She’s never been in love and she’s only ever dated celebrities.” I shake my head. “Naw, Peenie. She’s made it clear she’s up for a tour-fling with her lowly bodyguard and that’s it. And you know flinging ain’t my strong suit, man. You guys were right to razz me about the high-speed elevator between my dick and my heart. I’m hopeless.”

  Keane looks pained. “But maybe this one time you could separate fucking and feelings, if you concentrated really hard. Or, shit, maybe, despite Aloha’s past track record, she’d want more than a tour-fling with you, after all. Maybe one kiss and she’d fall into the abyss, right along with you.”

  “She won’t, Peenie. Put aside the fact that she’s a big star and I’m a working stiff. She’s the female you. Well, the pre-Maddy female you. She’s a pickle collector and I’m nothing but a pickle.”

  “Well, then, there’s genuine hope. I did a one-eighty after meeting my dream pickle, didn’t I? So maybe you’re Aloha’s dream pickle, too.”

  My skin erupts with goosebumps at the mere thought.

  “Or, hey,” Keane continues, “maybe you wouldn’t even want Aloha after you finally got a taste of her. Maybe you’d fuck her and find out she’s too big a train wreck under all that pretty and you’d run away screaming.”

  I shake my head. “I already know for a fact she’s a world-class train wreck underneath all that pretty and that’s the thing that attracts me the most. Honestly, if Aloha were to take off her mask with me and fling it across the room and show me the truth, no matter how ugly, I’m positive I’d shove my heart at her with both hands.”

  “Why do you think she’s a world-class train wreck?”

  I tell Keane all the ways I’m aware of that Aloha’s been abandoned, betrayed, and used. And how I’m quite certain she doesn’t know who she is when she’s not performing for an audience.

  Keane shakes his head. “Sounds like the perfect project for you.”

  I laugh. “Yeah, I know.”

  “So much for that three-month detox from the foxes, huh?”

  “No, my de-foxification is still on, brother. As long Aloha keeps to her promise not to make the first move, I’m positive I can stay strong and keep Mr. Happy in line. And if I can do that, then I’ll be able to keep my heart from falling into the abyss. The good news is there’s no way she’ll make the first move, no matter how horny she is for me, because I’ve got her firmly convinced I’m scared to death of Barry and/or still hung up on Daphne.”

  “You’re not still hung up on Daphne?”

  I roll my eyes. “Of course not. I don’t give a rat’s ass about Daphne.”

  Keane laughs.

  “It’s been torture pretending I do, though. Whenever Aloha and I hold hands and a paparazzi jumps out of nowhere to snap our photo, Aloha’s like, ‘Oh, Daphne’s gonna shit when she sees that one!’ And I have to be like, ‘Oh, yeah. Daphne’s gonna shit!’ And all the while, my dick is hard and my balls feel like they’re in a vise and all I can think about is how much I wanna eat Aloha’s pussy ’til I make it rain all over my face.”

  “Oh, Zan Antonio. Your poor balls. God help you.”

  “No, you help me and don’t call the fucking bet. Having that bet hanging out there is the only thing keeping me strong.”

  He sighs. “Fine. You’ve convinced me. You’re hanging on by a thread.”

  I sigh with relief. “Thank you.”

  “But screw hanging on. Hanging back and being careful and scared of rejection isn’t you. In fact, it’s a travesty to watch you turn into this sniveling mess, if you wanna know the truth. Okay, so you’re not the best at flinging. We all know that. So, fuck it, embrace it. Be you. Wear your tender heart on your outlandishly large sleeve. No regrets that way, right? Cannonball into the pool, baby doll.”

  “I’ll think about it.” I exhale. “I gotta go, honey nuggets. Aloha’s waiting for me to play chicken in the pool with her. I’ll see you the night after next at your parents’ house.”

  “Oh, no, you’ll see me tomorrow night at the concert. Josh arranged a skybox for the entire clan to come see the show. Everyone but Colby and Lydia will be there to cheer on our favorite bodyguard.”

  “Awesome. Will Colby and Lydia be at dinner the next night?”

  “Yep. They said they can’t wait. They just didn’t wanna leave Baby Mia yet to go to the concert.”

  “Understandable. I can’t wait to see her.” I glance at the clock. “Shit, Aloha’s gonna be pissed. I gotta go.”

  “Cannonball, Z. You got this.”

  Chapter 27

  Aloha

  Finally, after what seems like forever and a day, Zander saunters into the pool area like he owns the place. He’s wearing bright green swim trunks, a blue T-shirt, and a cocky smile.

  He high-fives Brett, the cyborg, who salutes me from across the large patio area and then bolts away like he’s got somewhere far more important to be. Well, good riddance, cyborg. I don’t want Barry’s spy hanging around here, anyway, not when I’ve decided Zander isn’t leaving this pool tonight without making a m
ove on me. Tonight’s the night.

  From across the patio, Zander levels me with his chocolate eyes. He looks like he’s making his mind up about something. Or maybe he’s just teasing me, drawing out my anticipation because he knows I can’t wait to see him take off that T-shirt and show me the goods.

  I splash the water in front of me, ordering him to get his gorgeous ass into the water right freaking now, but he holds up his index finger, telling me to be patient.

  Finally, slowly, ever so slowly, his eyes trained on mine and a cocky smile on his luscious lips, Zander peels off his tight blue T-shirt, revealing his jaw-dropping torso in all its glory. Chiseled abs. Bulging, tattooed arms. Mammoth chest. His eyes still holding mine, he tosses his T-shirt onto a nearby lounger, takes four slow and concerted steps toward the ledge of the pool, and then, much to my surprise, cannonballs into the center of the pool.

  Cheers and hoots abound from everyone already in the water. But Zander can’t hear any of them because he’s swimming underwater in a predatory line straight toward me. When he bursts through the surface of the water next to me with a loud roar, I shriek and throw my arms around his strong neck and then laugh and laugh. Without missing a beat, Zander twirls me around in the water, soundly splashing everyone within a three-foot radius of us with my whipping legs.

  I can’t stop giggling. “What took you so long? I started to worry you’d stood me up.”

  Zander flashes me a smile that makes my clit zing. “I’d never stand you up, my darling hula girl. In any context. Ever. My Wifey FaceTimed me just as I was heading out the door. We had a lot to catch up on.”

  I wrap my thighs around Zander’s gorgeous torso and tighten my grasp around his neck. “Oh, did you now? Well, whatever you and the missus talked about upstairs, it obviously put you in a feisty mood, so I approve.”