Saving Sophie: Book Seven In The Bodyguards Of L.A. County Series

by Cate Beauman

  “What?”

  “I just—I’m back.”

  “You said that already.”

  “Yes. Right.” She shook her head. “Of course I did.”

  “Did you have too much to drink?”

  “No. No, only one glass of wine—a half a glass.”

  They stared at each other, and he frowned.

  She cleared her throat again. “The—the room looks great. Different.”

  He took a drink from his water bottle. “Actual walls.”

  “What are you doing with that white stuff?”

  “Taping the seams.”

  “Oh. Is that some type of glue?”

  “Mud—compound.”

  She set Murphy down and stepped closer as Stone turned and applied the white goop in quick, smooth movements. “You have to do this whole room?”

  “Yup. I’m just getting started. I’ll do the entire house eventually, but tonight I’m taking care of this.”

  She looked around at all the screws and tiny crevices in need of covering “Do you want help?”

  He glanced over his shoulder. “Thanks, but it’s gotta be done right or the walls will look like hell.”

  She tried not to be insulted that he automatically assumed she would make his walls look like hell. “I guess Murphy and I will get out of your way.”

  “Do you want to try? I can teach you.”

  She was always game for learning something new; she was usually too shy to ask. “Um, sure.”

  “Your hands are going to get a little messy.”

  “Good thing we have soap.”

  He smiled. “Come on over.” He gestured with his head.

  She walked up to his side.

  “Basically, you scoop up some of this compound here with the compound knife and slide it over the seam.” He demonstrated. “You want to keep your movements smooth.”

  She nodded, taking the handle from him, scooping up the mud the way he had and put it on the crack, but as she moved in the same motions Stone had, she made a mess. “It doesn’t look like yours.”

  “It takes practice.” He placed his hand over hers, moving in quick, sure strokes, cleaning up the bumps she’d left behind. “Ready to try taping?”

  “Why not?” It was easy to relax and try something new when she didn’t have the pressure of perfection and a punishment if she made a mistake.

  “You’re going to take a piece of this tape and put it over the mud we just put down.” He put the white tape over the joint.

  “That looks simple enough.” She did what he had, smiling when it looked like his piece.

  “Now take the knife and move it like this.” He demonstrated, making long down strokes on top of the tape. “We don’t want any excess compound underneath or we’ll have bumps.”

  She nodded, taking the tool and doing as he’d done.

  “Not half bad.” He put his hand over hers, moving up close behind her so that her back brushed his chest and her naked shoulders warmed from his hot skin. “But more pressure. We’ll need more mud for the next step.” He bent down as she did, his breath heating her neck, sending a rush of tingles and goosebumps down her back. “Now go over the tape with the compound like this.” Their hands moved together as he pressed down and on occasion away to the left or right, his chin brushing the top of her head, as they made a long, smooth line of white. “There you go. You taped your first joint.”

  “You make it look easy,” she said, letting loose a quiet shuddering breath, trying to pull herself together before she turned. For the first time ever her stomach was tied up in more knots than her tongue.

  “It is when you’ve done it as many times as I have.” He set the compound knife down and crossed his arms as he sat on the edge of the sawhorse. “Did you have fun tonight?”

  “Yes. Alexa went into labor.”

  His eyebrows shot up. “Must’ve been some party.”

  She laughed, and her stomach relaxed.

  He grinned. “Good for Alexa and Jackson.”

  “It’s exciting.”

  “Another new baby in the crew.”

  She nodded. “Thanks for the lesson. The next time I have to drywall I’ll know what to do.”

  He sent her another smile. “I need to get back to work. Go ahead and take Murphy to the trailer. You guys can sleep in there tonight. I won’t be finished up in here for awhile.”

  “Okay. Can I get you anything? Maybe something to eat?”

  “Nah.”

  “Goodnight then.”

  “Night.” He walked over to the docking station, turned up his music, and got back to work.

  She went to the bathroom, washed her hands, snagged her pajamas from the pile in the living room, and picked up Murphy, walking outside into the warm breeze, needing to clear her head. Stone had done nothing more than show her how to slap compound on a wall, and her insides had turned to mush. Her heart still beat fast from the brushes of his skin touching hers. Who knew dry walling could be so sexy?

  She liked it when Stone touched her—and not just tonight, which was new for her. She’d never liked it when Eric put his hands on her—even before he’d started abusing her. Maybe there was something to what Abby said. The right person could make all the difference, but that didn’t change the fact that she wasn’t Stone’s type. The swift wave of disappointment surprised her. It shouldn’t have. She and Stone were very different people…and this was silly.

  Sighing, she climbed the two stairs and opened the trailer door, breathing in his cologne. She glanced at the unmade bed she would be sleeping on, realizing that tonight was going to be a long night.

  Chapter Eleven

  Stone took the last turn on his way up to the house, slowing to a stop when he spotted Sophie shooting the basketball into the hoop for a three-point swish. “Not bad,” he muttered as she hustled forward in black athletic shorts and a white tank top, grabbing the ball, dribbling back to the line. Instead of firing up another shot, she moved toward the basket, sending the ball through in an easy layup.

  His brows rose in surprise as she turned in a quick move, pivoting, putting the ball up again effortlessly. Sophie could play—extremely damn well. He shifted the car into first with a small stirring of excitement and drove ahead, stopping with plenty of space between his Mustang and the half-court he’d had poured when he moved in. “You’ve got moves, Soph,” he called out the window. He got out, shutting the door.

  “Hi.” Her cheeks were flushed and unframed with her hair pulled back in a ponytail.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  She shrugged, dribbling with the ease of experience.

  “Give me two seconds and we’ll play.”

  “Okay.”

  He hurried into the trailer, toeing off his dress shoes and socks, beyond excited that he was about to play a game of pickup with a woman he had no idea could shoot. He took off his collared shirt and black slacks and slid on a pair of shorts, low-cut sweat socks, and his basketball shoes, snagging a bandana on his way back outside. “Play to ten,” he said as he secured the red kerchief around his head.

  “Only ten?” She passed the ball between her legs to the other hand as challenge heated her eyes. “Tough day at work?”

  He grinned, liking this sassy side he’d never seen. “Twenty then.”

  “Go.” She tossed the ball to him for him to send back, then without looking, she let the ball sail, landing her shot.

  He snagged the ball on the first bounce, sending it back to her. “Lucky shot. Let’s go, Soph.” He lunged in, stealing the ball only for her to take it back seconds later, pivot, and send it up for another point.

  “Two-zero, McCabe,” she smirked. “And I haven’t played in almost three years.”

  “Shit-talker, huh?” He was loving this more and more as he took a defensive stance and moved in, snatching the ball away, scoring his first point. “Looks like we’re just about tied up.”

  “Almost.” She dribbled between her legs, turned, tr
ying to get around him, but he had moves of his own and he was about to show her. He waited for her to shoot, taking advantage of her miss, and reached for the rebound before she could, fired and missed.

  “Shit.”

  Sophie grabbed the ball inches from the line, twisting, shooting, stumbling, watching her swish on the way to the concrete.

  He hustled to where she sat. “You okay?” He held out his hand.

  She grabbed hold and he pulled. “Yes.” Winded, she took off her tank top, tossing it aside, standing in her exercise bra. She made a motion for him to give her the ball as sweat dribbled down her toned stomach.

  He bounced it to her.

  “Come get me.” She rushed by him, dribbling on her way for a layup. He had her by a good seven inches but her excellent evasive moves allowed her to sneak by and score her next point. “Three-one.” She raised her eyebrow at him.

  “You smirking?”

  “No, just kicking your butt.” She bounced the ball to him. “I hope this isn’t your A-game.”

  He chuckled, trying to figure out where the shy beauty went. She sure as hell wasn’t here on this court. Sophie was handing him his ass, but he wasn’t about to let her know that. He dribbled, holding her intense gaze. “I’m just giving you a chance to score a couple points. It’s bad form to let your opponent walk off the court with a goose egg.” He tossed the ball up, making his basket, wiggling his brows as he grinned.

  She ran after the ball. “Let’s see if you can do that again.” She sent the ball back to him with more force than necessary.

  “I’ve got plenty more where that came from.” He rushed off the line and to her right, beating her to the basket. “Where were you? You’re not going to beat me like that.”

  The verbal sparring, brushes and rubs of drenched skin, and the occasional elbow check went on for thirty more minutes. They both panted as sweat dripped down their faces.

  “Nineteen, nineteen,” Stone said, out of breath. “Care to put any bets on the next point?”

  “I never bet and play.” She wiped at her forehead with her forearm.

  “That’s a damn shame. I was going to make you dinner when I win.”

  She crouched down as he dribbled, her eyes locked on his. “Can you even cook?”

  “No.”

  She chuckled. “A bet should be worth winning.”

  He grinned, enjoying the hell out of this feisty she-cat. “Touché.”

  She lunged in and he deflected, spinning, moving toward the hoop. She swooped in, her shoulder crashing into his chest as she grabbed the ball and fired, winning the cutthroat game. “Yes! Yes!”

  “Damn.” He settled his hands on his hip, breathing deep.

  “Guess that’s that.” She slapped her palms together as if dusting him off, her eyes playful as she smiled.

  “Careful there, Soph.” He hooked his arm around her waist, pulling her tight against him, and spun her around. “I’m still bigger than you.”

  She gasped, stiffening, and laughed as she clutched at his arm.

  The scent of her hair filled his nose as he listened to her bright peal of laughter, sending her around once, twice. He set her down and she turned, grinning.

  “Is that my prize—being dizzy?”

  He couldn’t remember the last time he’d enjoyed forty-five minutes more. He didn’t know many women who could play ball. None of them played on the same level as Sophie. “Nah, let’s go grab a burger.”

  “What about Murphy?”

  They both looked at the pup asleep on his back in the late afternoon sunshine.

  “Bring him along.”

  She smiled. “Okay. Give me ten minutes. I need to shower first.”

  “Yeah you do.” He gave her a pained look.

  She laughed, swatting at his arm. “I don’t smell that bad.”

  He chuckled. She didn’t smell bad at all. Every time she’d brushed against him during the game, he’d caught a whiff of her perfume. “We both need a shower. I’ll rinse off in the trailer. Meet you in ten.”

  “Ten it is. Come on, Murph.”

  He took the two steps up to the trailer, glancing over his shoulder as Sophie and the puppy walked into the house. He was looking forward to burgers. Dinner out had the potential to be as much fun as their impromptu basketball game. He was going to make sure it was.

  ~~~~

  Van Morrison played through the Mustang’s speakers while Sophie stared out the window, wondering where Stone was taking her as he forked right on the mountain road. The wind tossed her damp hair as she breathed in the greasy fries and burgers in the bag at her feet. She closed her eyes, savoring the peace of good music and the satisfaction of another great day. She’d completed her orders for the boutique and sent off her online catalog to Hailey, who’d written back ten minutes later, enthused about the upcoming party. So far there were twenty-five people who’d RSVP’d and fifteen invitations were still out. If half of Hailey’s guests ordered something, she’d be that much closer to having her down payment for a car.

  But that wasn’t the best part. Her pickup game with Stone had been ridiculously fun, and now, dinner out on some mysterious mountain road on a warm, starlit night. This trumped any stuffy fine-dining meal Eric had insisted on.

  “So, this isn’t exactly up there with the view at Griffith Observatory, but it doesn’t suck.”

  She frowned as she looked around, seeing nothing but trees. “Uh…”

  He forked right again, and the city shined bright.

  She gasped. “It’s beautiful.”

  “It’s definitely not bad.” He pulled off to the side, reversed, and parked the car in the middle of the desolate road.

  She stared out at the endless lights of Los Angeles, still in awe that any one place could be so big.

  “This is even better than the observatory.” She smiled at him.

  “Have you been?”

  “Well, no but… I’m glad I’m here,” she finished lamely.

  He smiled. “I’ve been a few times, and I happen to agree with you one hundred percent.”

  “It’s so quiet. I love the way everything twinkles—the lights, the stars. It’s…magical.”

  He looked out as she did. “I’ve never thought about it like that, but I guess it is.” He opened his door. “You wanna eat out here?”

  She unbuckled her seatbelt. “Yeah. Sure.” She stared down at Murphy sleeping at her side. “I guess I’ll leave him here for now since the windows are down.” She picked up the bag as Stone went to the trunk and grabbed a blanket. She got out, looking around at the brush everywhere, and turned, wondering where Stone thought they were going to sit, unless he planned to picnic in the road.

  He draped his hood with the huge quilt. “Hop up.”

  She hesitated. The Mustang was his baby. “Are you sure?”

  “Go for it.” He gestured with his head.

  She nibbled her lip. “I’m afraid I’ll scratch the paint.”

  He settled his hands on the hips of her denim short shorts, sitting her on top of the blanket. “There. Problem solved.”

  She watched him walk around the hood in mouthwatering jeans and a white Ethan Cooke Security t-shirt that accentuated his broad shoulders. He slid a leg up, settling himself on the driver’s side. “How about one of those cheeseburgers.”

  “Sure. I’m starved.” She handed off his meal and leaned back against the windshield the way Stone did, relaxing, listening to the music still playing quietly from the car.

  “Is this your first Malcom’s burger?” He unwrapped his enormous sandwich.

  “Yes.”

  “Let me proudly introduce you to the best quarter pound of beef around. You’ve never had anything like it.” He held his burger up to her mouth. “Go for it.”

  Holding his gaze, she took a huge bite, rolled her eyes, and moaned as charbroiled beef, ketchup, and pickle melded on her tongue. “Oh my god,” she said over her mouthful, giggling as she covered her mouth with her hand. �
��It’s so good.”

  “Damn right.” He nodded and bit in, groaning. “Man, this never gets old.”

  She picked up three of her French fries, eyeing his huge box of onion rings. “I’ll trade you for an onion ring.”

  “Deal.” He snagged the thick potatoes from her fingers with his teeth, his lips brushing her skin as he pulled back.

  The heat of his touch sent tingles straight to her belly, much like the warmth of his breath had Saturday night when he taught her how to tape drywall. She stared at him as he chewed, then bit into his burger as if the intimate gesture had been no big deal…much like the way he’d appeared unaffected the other night. She sighed.

  “You still want that onion ring?”

  “Oh, yeah. Sure.” She gave him a small smile.

  “Another experience right here,” he said as he handed it over.

  She sampled fried onion covered in beer batter. “Wow,” she said over a full mouth. “Where has Malcom’s been all my life?”

  He grinned. “I wondered the same thing. Ethan introduced me to heaven when I got here last year. I’ve been grateful ever since.”

  “You’re not from LA?”

  “Nah, Vegas.”

  “Las Vegas? Exciting.”

  He let loose a humorless laugh. “Vegas isn’t all showgirls and gambling.”

  She wasn’t sure what that meant exactly. “Does your family still live there?”

  He shrugged. “I couldn’t tell you.”

  She stared at him, nibbling a fry. “You don’t know where your family is?”

  “I have no idea who my father is, and my mother was a drunk who worked at gas stations when she could get her ass out of bed.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry.” Her mother had always been so strong. She couldn’t imagine growing up without her unwavering support.

  He shrugged again. “I got by.”