by Alisha Rai
Nothing. No zings. Not even a spark.
“Would you like to join me for pizza and a sunset tonight, then?”
She blinked. This was a bona fide meet-cute!
Except she didn’t care. It was flattering to have such a handsome guy flirting with her, but she could quite easily turn him down. “No, I’m afraid I can’t.”
He shrugged good-naturedly and, bless him, didn’t press. “No problem.”
“You should try Crush,” she offered. “I’m sure you can line up a date for the evening pretty easily.”
He made a face. “Never used one of those dating apps. I prefer meeting people like this. Face-to-face contact, you know.”
Katrina could at least tell Rhiannon she’d tried to convert another subscriber. “Totally get it.”
He gathered up his stuff. “Thanks so much for letting me share your table. I enjoyed having the company and the local tips.”
“Me too. Pet Sandy for me.”
He laughed. “She wouldn’t settle for anything less.”
He held out his hand and she shook it, expecting no feelings and getting none. This time she did watch him leave, satisfied at the contentment she felt.
One step after another. She could repeat this, message some of those guys lingering in her matches. And next time, maybe she’d want to go out with the guy.
She dawdled for a few more minutes, then tucked her paperback in her bag and collected her trash, depositing her stuff and the plate and cup Ross had left behind in the bin.
“Ready?”
She turned to find Jas behind her. She noted the bookmark sticking out of his hardcover with approval. No cracked spines here. “Yup.”
They went out the back door, to the alley where Mona allowed them to park.
Jas walked a step in front of her but within reach, leading her to the car. She slid her gaze from his straight black hair, down his strong neck and back, and tore it away just as it got to his butt.
Your employee. Your friend. But also, your employee. You’re his responsibility. Nothing more.
She’d message more men on Crush. She had to find someone else.
He opened her door for her, and she slid into the back seat. The windows were darkly tinted, so no one could look in and see her. She could look out, though.
Riding in cars was still a relative novelty for her. Almost two years ago, when she’d decided she wanted to try exposure therapy under Andy’s guidance, they’d come to this vehicle, parked in her driveway, and sat inside it. She’d wrestled her way out of the car when her throat had constricted so much she could only gasp. Not quite a panic attack. Fear of fear. The terror of a potential panic attack.
The second time had been easier. The third time, she’d managed to travel within a mile radius of her house.
She’d tested herself up to six hours straight in the car now, round-trips where Jas had driven her up the coast and back, the sight of the ocean something she’d missed dearly. Twice she’d hyperventilated to the point where Jas had had to pull over. She’d survived, though, and that was what she told her fear every time she got inside the SUV.
She watched the city pass her by as they made the short ten-minute drive back to her home, in between sneaking glances at Jas.
“Did you have a good time?” Jas asked.
“Yes. Did you try the cookies? Oh, never mind.” Jas didn’t like sweets like she did. “They were delicious. I’ll have to get the recipe from Mona. Jia would like them.” Her new housemate liked to eat, which delighted Katrina, because she liked to feed people.
Jas grunted. “What about the guy? What was his deal?”
She lifted her head from the window. “He was a tourist.” She’d never know what prompted the next confession. “He asked me out.”
Katrina immediately wanted to recall the words. In the nine years he’d worked for her, she’d never spoken to Jas about something like this, had no idea what was going on in his personal life. She considered them friends, but they had clearly defined boundaries. Her relatively recent desire for physical companionship was something only her girlfriends and Andy were privy to.
There was a short pause. “What?”
She met her bodyguard’s dark eyes in the rearview mirror. Gloss over it. Don’t talk to the man you want about a man you don’t. It’s not like he’ll be jealous or anything. Anyway, jealousy was something high school girls sought.
She opened her mouth and heard herself say, “That man I was sitting with? The cute guy? He asked me to go to dinner with him tonight.”
Jas’s gaze flicked back to the road, his thick black eyebrows furrowing so deeply she wanted to smooth them out. “Cute? Is that what’s considered cute now?” He snorted. “Fake teeth and a fake tan?”
She paused. The fake tan was possible. As for the rest . . . “Fake, huh?”
“Definitely. No one’s teeth are naturally that white.”
She couldn’t help but grin, a real grin. Not many people saw this side of Jas. “Cosmetic procedures are not something I shame a person for,” she said primly.
He gestured. The sunlight glinted off the iron bracelet he wore. “I’m not saying Sir Teeth-a-Lot should be ashamed, I’m saying he needs a better dentist.” Jas took a sharp right. “I’m sure he has many other excellent qualities.”
If she didn’t know better, she might think there was a caustic bite to Jas’s words.
Jealousy?
She strangled the surge of hope in her soul, shoved it down deep. “He seemed okay.”
“Where are we going on this date?”
Katrina squinted at the back of his head. His hair was short, always in the same tidy style. “We?”
“I would prefer to accompany you until we have a chance to vet him.”
She opened her mouth and then closed it again, flummoxed. She hadn’t thought about the logistics of dating. Jas lived on her property, in the guest cottage. When they were at home, he had an uncanny ability to fade in and out of the woodwork as she needed. When she left her home, Jas was always at her side.
She’d have to take Jas on a date? With another man? And he sounded . . . fine about that prospect. Utterly, totally fine.
So much for him thinking of her as anything other than a job. “I’m not going out with him. I turned him down. Wasn’t feeling it.”
“As you wish.” His attention returned to the twisting road. “Your wrap is next to you.”
She hadn’t realized she was shivering until then. It was cool out, the chill multiplied by the air-conditioning. She picked up the shawl and drew it around her shoulders. “Thank you, Jas. What would I do without you?” Truth.
A grunt. That was the grunt that told her he didn’t know what to say in response. He wasn’t great at handling compliments.
She leaned her forehead against the window. After a second, she pulled her phone out of her purse and opened Crush.
She studied the man Andy had matched her with. He said he was six-foot-four five times in his profile, not four, and she had no doubt he’d say it ten more times when they got together. Tall people were very proud of hitting the genetic lottery.
Jas was tall, though, and he rarely mentioned it.
Stop it.
With a surreptitious glance at Jas, she clicked on the guy’s profile and sent a waving-hand emoji. Not the most creative opener, but if he was interested, he’d get back to her.
What would I do without you? They hadn’t been empty words. Jas was such an integral part of her life. If he left, she’d survive, but she’d mourn his loss.
Longing shot through her. She wanted him to feel the same way about her. She wanted him to share his needs with her, so she could do things for him, too.
Katrina wrapped her shawl tighter around her. That wouldn’t happen, though. So she could never jeopardize their working relationship or their friendship with her stupid, too-big feelings.
Chapter Three
THERE WAS A time in his life when Jasvinder Singh had always
been prepared for a fight, for an enemy around the next corner.
But if the military had taught him anything, it was that the lines between friend and foe were blurry, and there were some attacks you could never prepare for.
He asked me out.
Jas ramped up the speed of the treadmill, his feet pounding on the track. His breath was coming fast and hard. It had been far too long since he’d properly pushed himself.
He asked me out.
He tapped the incline button, forcing himself up to a steep elevation. He welcomed every second of the pain in his calves.
He asked me out.
The doorbell interrupted his savage thoughts, and he hit the pause button on the treadmill, jumping off before it came to a complete stop. He winced as his knee protested. When Hardeep had been alive, Jas had woken up every morning at four and worked out for at least a couple of hours.
Then again, his job had been much more physical then. Hardeep had been a massively wealthy jet-setter who was also highly visible, with an equally visible wife. Every day had brought another event and security challenge.
When Hardeep had died six years ago, Katrina had disbanded the rest of the security team with hefty pensions. Jas had assumed she’d give him notice as well.
Instead she’d summoned him to her office and quietly told him she wanted him to find her a nice house with an ocean view in California, and would he like to remain her bodyguard?
His yes had come very fast.
Jas picked up the phone from the weight bench and checked the display for the fifteenth time since he’d woken up an hour ago. He accompanied Katrina on all outings and was otherwise available to meet her needs, but he’d shifted into handling cyber security for her, her investment fund, and a number of the businesses she had shares in. His phone was always on him, and he was attuned to every noise it made.
For the past few days, though, he’d been on hyper alert for a 202 area code. No good news came out of Washington, not for him.
Nothing right now, though. The doorbell chimed again and he tucked the phone into the pocket of his shorts. He walked to the door, peered out, and silently groaned at the sight of the man standing on his doorstep.
Jas contemplated slinking away, but it was impossible to pretend he wasn’t home when his car was in the same large garage this man parked in. He unlocked the door and opened it, leaning against the doorjamb. Wait, did that look like he was trying to bar the guy from his home? He straightened.
Jas had never been a man who made friends easily, even before his life had turned upside down and he’d left the military. He was too slow to open up to people, or at least, that’s what more than one exasperated family member had told him.
Katrina’s part-time roommate, Rhiannon, had started dating Samson Lima about six months ago. Jas didn’t know exactly how Samson had slipped in under his guard. Possibly because Jas had been slightly starstruck: Samson had played pro, but he also came from a pro-football dynasty. Jas had grown up watching Samson’s uncle and father play ball. He’d owned a Lima jersey. A few of them, in fact.
The guy didn’t spend that much time at Katrina’s house—he and Rhiannon were usually together at Samson’s apartment in L.A. But when he was in Santa Barbara, he and Jas had settled into a habit of getting together for a workout or coffee.
Samson surveyed his sweat-soaked shirt and raised an eyebrow. “Whoa, there. You training for something?”
Jas swiped his hand down his chest. “Nah. Pushing myself a little, is all. Need to get my stamina up. I’ve been slacking.”
“You could have texted. I would have come and spotted you.”
Jas scratched the back of his neck. “Thanks, but I’m done now.”
“I actually came over to see if you wanted to go for a run or play some basketball. It’s been a while.” Samson was dressed in an old T-shirt and gym shorts. “Since you’ve already got your workout in, why don’t we have some coffee?”
Jas would rather they work out. Working out meant they didn’t have to talk. “Oh no, I wouldn’t want you to miss getting your—”
“I insist.” Samson took a step forward. A former linebacker, he was big enough to crowd Jas, and Jas took an automatic step back, enough to let the younger man slip through. “I’ll make the coffee.”
Jas’s smile probably looked more like a grimace. Short of tossing Samson bodily out of his house, he didn’t know what he could do to get the man out. And he couldn’t bounce him. Samson was much heftier, and also there was the whole thing about him dating Katrina’s best friend.
People and all their connections. So complicated.
He trailed after Samson as the other man went to the kitchen, a short walk in the cozy two-bedroom cottage. Katrina had partially bought this property because of the in-law quarters in the back. Jas had been happy to take her up on her offer to live in the small home. Situated a few hundred feet away from Katrina’s bigger house, its location struck a good balance between the protection he wanted to offer her and the distance he struggled to maintain between them.
Samson made a beeline to the coffee maker, familiar with the place in a way that made Jas nervous. It hadn’t made him nervous a month ago, or even a week ago, but then Jas had gone and opened his usually tight-lipped mouth. “Isn’t the French press making better coffee than that terrible machine you had?” Samson remarked. He pulled a coffee can from the cupboard.
“Yes, it is.” Coffee was always coffee, in his opinion: hot bean soup he occasionally drank when other people around him were drinking it. He preferred not to depend on any chemical on a day-to-day basis.
Samson set the electric kettle to boil and measured out the grounds while Jas fetched the mugs and cream for Samson. “How have you been?” Jas asked, because that was what you asked friends, even friends you were mildly embarrassed to talk to.
“Busy as hell with boring corporate stuff.” Samson leaned against the counter.
“Meetings for the new merger?” Rhiannon and Katrina’s dating app was merging with Samson’s aunt’s dating website, and it had kept Rhiannon and Samson busy in L.A.
“Yeah. Rhiannon and my aunt love each other, but they’re both two strong-headed CEOs. They need a pretty face to buffer.” Samson poured the hot water over the grounds. He brought the press over to the counter.
Samson took a seat on one of the stools. “I see you’ve added some new rosebushes.”
Jas remained standing and folded his hands in front of him on the counter. “Trying to get them in before the first frost.”
“How are your orchids doing?”
“Good.”
Samson rolled his empty mug between his palms. “Does this feel as awkward to you as it does to me?”
Jas tensed. The good thing about not having many friends was that he didn’t really have anyone to confide in, which meant no one later brought up the unpleasant things he told them.
But last week, when Samson had caught him moodily digging up some weeds in the garden at the big house, Jas had cracked. I got a call from an old friend, had been the first words out of his mouth, and then it all came out. They’d sat in the sunshine, Samson quiet while Jas had spoken.
So now he did feel awkward, damn it. “I don’t feel awkward,” Jas lied.
Samson poured the coffee. “I know awkward when I see it, man. What I don’t know is why.”
Because Jas had felt good after he’d told Samson everything, for a few hours. Then he hadn’t.
When Jas didn’t speak now, Samson nodded. “Look, I don’t have many friends.”
Jas squinted at that, because it made no sense. Samson was too . . . what was the word? Charming.
Samson nodded. “At least, not ones I’ve made in the last ten years. Except for Rhiannon, and Katrina, and, well, you. So I know it can feel weird, telling someone something personal. I haven’t told anyone what you told me, not even Rhiannon.” Samson shrugged. “I know it feels weird, letting someone in, but it can be helpful too.”
Jas wrapped his hands around the warm mug. “I didn’t mean to, uh, burden you.”
“Hardly a burden. If you feel embarrassed, you don’t have to be.” Samson braced himself on his elbows on the counter and nodded. “You know they used to call me the Lima Charm?” His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.
Jas nodded.
“I thought that meant I couldn’t show anyone anything but a smile. I hid everything else. It worked, until it didn’t.”
He had a feeling Samson didn’t tell many people how he felt about his nickname and the pressure to be a smiling face. Jas opened his mouth, then closed it again, the words slow in coming, but they emerged. “You’re right. I’m not used to telling anyone my problems.” The friends he’d had via forced proximity, in the Army or as part of a security team, were all scattered across the world now. They occasionally connected, but he was isolated here. Which had been what he’d wanted.
Samson took a sip of his coffee. “You’re going through something. We all go through things. I didn’t run and google you or anything, by the way. I only know what you’ve told me.”
“Thank you.” Googling wouldn’t bring up much. The military had kept McGuire’s trial under wraps as tightly as possible, and fourteen years ago, the news cycle hadn’t been quite like it was now.
Jas thought the man had gotten off pretty lightly for flagrantly disobeying orders and wounding two people, including Jas: a twenty-year sentence, and he’d been out in five years with parole. The pardon McGuire was now rumored to be up for would lift his parole restrictions. It would be like nothing ever happened, except for the scars Jas carried.
McGuire was an apple-cheeked Midwestern boy, the son of a prominent prosecutor and a judge. His pardon would make news in a way his trial hadn’t. Surely some enterprising journalist would try to track Jas down for a statement.
Jas controlled his full-body shudder. Exposure. Plus, the potential emergence of all those memories he’d spent fourteen years shoving down deep, so deep he’d never have to think about them. He’d run away after the trial, and a big part of him wished he could run away now.