The OUT OF LINE Series

by Jen McLaughlin

  “Really?” She stood up straight, wearing nothing but her tiny red bikini bottoms. Fuck, if she would let me, I’d snap a picture and make that my wallpaper. “Okay, sure.”

  “You look surprised,” I said, raising a brow at her. “Why?”

  She picked up the bikini top and turned almost as red as it was. “I always thought guys were weird with girls leaving their stuff at their places. They get all paranoid she’s trying to stake a claim or something.”

  “Maybe some guys are, but I’m not one of those guys.” I pulled two mugs out of the cabinet and headed back into the bedroom portion of my apartment. The light blue comforter was halfway off the bed, thanks to our morning sex. I straightened it, then pulled it up over our pillows. “Besides, the guys who don’t want their girls’ stuff at their places are the ones with something to hide. I don’t have any more secrets.”

  She nibbled on her lower lip as she did up her bikini top, tying it in front of her breasts before sliding it up over her neck. “I know that. But you had a pretty big secret before that.”

  “You mean the fact that I was your father’s secret bodyguard sent to watch over you?” I snorted. “That’s nothing. What you really should know about me is this: I snore when I’m drunk.”

  She smacked me playfully. “Don’t make me hurt you…and in that case? Maybe I’ll need to leave some earplugs here.”

  “You can leave them right next to the bed.” I hauled her into my arms, liking the idea of her leaving her shit here more and more. “You can leave some shirts and stuff, too, if you want. In case you ever need a quick change. Maybe a few of those books with abs on it that you like to read when you’re not busy reading for school.”

  She blinked up at me. “Okay.”

  “Why are you looking at me like that again?” I flexed my fingers on her hips, not sure what the confused stare she wore meant. Did she not like the idea of leaving stuff here? Maybe I was moving too fast for her. Shit if I knew. “It’s just clothes, Ginger. It’s not a big deal. You have tons of them—just leave a few here instead of leaving them in a box that says ‘free: take one’ on the front.”

  She laughed and pushed out of my arms. “I know. Now shut up.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” I tied my swim trunks and headed back toward the bathroom to brush my teeth. “Let me text your dad real quick. I’ve probably got like twenty texts from him already.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Remind me to tell you about Italy.”

  “Oh, that sounds…” I picked up my phone and swiped my finger across it. There wasn’t a single message from him. Not a single one. That never happened. “What the fuck?”

  She came up behind me and rested her hands on my shoulders, peeking around me to check my phone. “What? What’s wrong?”

  “He didn’t text me.” I opened his messages, scanning the time of the last text I’d gotten. “Shit. He hasn’t texted me since yesterday.”

  “Is that different than usual?”

  “Fuck yeah, it is.” I swiped my finger up, showing her how many times he usually texted me. “He texts me like ten times a day, Ginger. But I’ve got nothing. Nothing.”

  She kissed my shoulder. “It’s probably nothing to worry about. He’s just busy, I bet. He called me yesterday at lunch and sounded fine. He wanted to let me know he might be a little bit quiet because of his schedule.”

  I relaxed a little bit, but it didn’t feel right. Something was off, and I’d learned long ago to listen to my gut. If it said something was wrong, something was fucking wrong. “Yeah. Sure.”

  She let go of me. “Now go get ready. I want to get out in the ocean.”

  I headed for the bathroom, my phone still in my hand. As I brushed my teeth, I jotted off a quick text to Senator Wallington. Carrie’s okay. All is well.

  Within a minute I had a reply. Thank you.

  That was it. A thank you. There was nothing wrong with the text, per se. But it wasn’t right, damn it. I shook off the feeling that was bugging the fuck out of me, and focused on the date I’d promised Carrie. She had enough to stress about, what with that weird phone call I’d gotten that neither of us could make any sense out of, so I didn’t need to go obsessing about the tone of a text message like some pansy-assed little girl.

  I leaned against the door, my eyes on my reflection. The nagging sensation that something was wrong wouldn’t let go. On top of that, I figured out what was bugging me from when we’d talked about our date.

  I stared at myself, all tattoos, dog tags, muscles, swim trunks and five-o-clock shadow—it hit me. The problem with her wanting a fancy date with flowers and dresses and jewelry and valet parking was I wasn’t fancy.

  I could put on an expensive suit and pretend.

  I could afford to be that guy, money-wise.

  But underneath the suit and the charming smile, I was the tatted-up Marine that had no place dating the daughter of a prospective President of the United States of America. She was supposed to be with a trust fund baby. One who had money and wealth and recognition.

  Me? I so wasn’t that guy.

  I never would be.

  The waves were strong, but not so much that I had to worry about being taken under. Thank God. I’d already been there once before, right after I found out Finn was working for my father, and I had no desire to be there again.

  I looked over at him, and he was watching me, his warm blue eyes shining. His light brown hair looked almost blond in the sunlight, and his wetsuit clung to his muscles like a second skin. And I knew under that suit was a perfect body with an even more perfect heart underneath of it. He smiled at me, but I could tell it was strained.

  He was upset about Dad not texting him, and I was, too. Even though I played it off like it was no big deal, it did sound bad. I called him while Finn was in the bathroom, and he hadn’t answered. That freaked me out.

  Almost as much as the call Finn had gotten from his commanding officer.

  And it was killing me to act like it wasn’t killing me.

  “Hey, back at my place you told me to remind you about a story,” he said, his tone light and teasing. It didn’t fool me, though. He was stressed—and so was I. “What happened in Italy?”

  My cheeks heated, and I looked over my shoulder. Why had I told him I’d tell him about that? Ugh. “Well, for me to explain, I have to tell another story first. You might already know it. Did you hear about what happened in Nevada when I was ten?”

  Finn’s brow creased. “No. My dad wasn’t there yet. I was still in California. My mom was still alive…” He trailed off, his eyes focused on a past I couldn’t see. “At that point in my life, I was a carefree surfer boy who thought he was invincible. My dad worked on a high-security detail for the governor, and my mom was healthy as a horse.”

  I nodded, wanting to probe more about what his life had been like before his mother died, but knowing now was not the time. He wanted his story, so I would give it to him. “There’s a reason my dad is as crazy as he is. Back then, he wasn’t so insistent we have security on us twenty-four/seven. I had freedom and there were actually times when I was on my own. We were free.”

  “You didn’t have someone on you constantly?”

  I shook my head. “Nope. In fact, Mom and I got bored while Dad was campaigning, so we decided to go shopping at the local mall to pass some time. We didn’t bring anyone with us.”

  “I think I see where this is going,” he said dryly. “You got lost and he panicked?”

  I shook my head. “Nope. We got abducted.”

  “W-What?” he said, sitting up straight. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

  “I wish.” I sighed and looked over my shoulder. I hated talking about it. It had been a nightmare. “The guy was a complete idiot, so they found us pretty quickly, but my dad got really shaken up about it. We all did. And ever since then, he’s been different. Controlling.”

  He sighed. “I almost get it now. If something happened to you on my watch, I’d probably go insane,
too.”

  “Even though we were the ones who were abducted, I think he’s the one who had the major post-traumatic stress issues. Mom and me?” I shrugged and stared out at the ocean before turning to Finn. “We moved on, but with the security that Dad insists follow us everywhere. And it’s stayed that way ever since.”

  Finn nodded, his hands tight on his board. “So that’s why he makes me follow you around out here.”

  “Yeah.” I watched a fairly large wave form in the distance, rolling slowly toward us. I loved the way the waves did that—started small but slowly built up height before crashing to the sand. I could sit here all day and watch Mother Nature do her worst. “And in Italy, I escaped the watchmen.”

  Finn flinched. “Please tell me you weren’t kidnapped.”

  “I wasn’t.” I smiled at him. “But I didn’t answer my dad’s texts and he freaked the hell out. I mean, catastrophic panic.”

  Finn tapped his fingers on his board, playing a tune I didn’t recognize. “I would’ve been away then. I missed the show.”

  “You’re lucky. I hear it was quite ugly.” I sighed and tore my eyes from the water, looking back at my other favorite sight—otherwise known as Finn.

  “Where did you go? In Italy?”

  “I wanted to flirt with that guy I told you about when we first met. The Italian guy I mentioned. Remember him?”

  His brows slammed down. “I do. But do I want to hear anything else?”

  He was glowering at me now, but at least he looked more alive than he had for a while. Ever since he asked me on a date he’d been acting weird. Brooding, almost. I could tell something was bothering him, but I had no idea what it was or if it was even related to our date later tonight.

  “Oh, don’t look at me like that. I never even got close to him. My dad’s guards found me and took care of it,” I said, lifting my hands and doing air quotes. “But for those thirty minutes when no one knew where I was? Dad texted me every single second, I kid you not. I’d ignored him because I knew he was being his normal spaztastic self, and I told him as much. But after that, he promised to only text me twenty million times if it was an emergency.”

  Finn pressed his lips together. “So you’re telling me this to make sure I don’t panic like him, or what?”

  “Pretty much.” I reached out and caught his hand, squeezing it tight. “It’ll be okay. You’ll see.”

  “I know.” He lifted my hand and kissed my fingers, making my stomach clench. “With you at my side, how could it not be?”

  My heart melted at that sentence. Combined with the way he looked at me—his eyes soft and his lips even softer—I wasn’t sure I had the muscle power to surf right now.

  “You catch the first wave,” I said, my voice practically a whisper. I cleared my throat and tipped my head toward the approaching wave. “It looks pretty big.”

  He nodded once. “And you’ll wait till I come back to catch another one.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” I waved a hand at him impatiently. “I remember the rules, master of the sea.”

  He looked over his shoulder, more than likely calculating the time it would take for his ride to arrive. He had a few seconds at most. He shot me a look and started paddling forward, his back muscles bunching and rolling flawlessly. “You can give me all the attitude you want, but I almost lost you once—I won’t do it again.”

  “I know,” I called out, splashing water at him. The drops barely reached him. “Now go before you’re too late.”

  He grinned and flawlessly caught the wave, riding it to shore like the pro he was. He sliced in and out, doing moves I didn’t even know the names of, never once tipping off balance. He was mesmerizing and beautiful to watch out here.

  Well, anywhere. But especially on the water.

  I watched him with awe, quite certain I’d never get to that level of skill, but I was okay with that. I just liked coming out here, hanging out in the water and enjoying the time with Finn. For the most part, we were left alone. There were a few surfers out this morning, but it was much emptier than on a weekend.

  A blond man prepared to catch the next wave a few hundred feet over, and past him a woman with black hair bobbed in the water. It was a perfect, peaceful morning.

  But I felt anything but peaceful.

  Finn swam back to my side and I forced a bright smile. If it was the last thing I did, I would hide my anxiety from him. He didn’t need my baggage sinking him down to the bottom of the Pacific. “That was a good one.”

  He climbed back on his black board and shook his hair like a wet dog, spraying me. “It was. Next one’s yours, though.”

  “As long as it’s little enough to pass your test,” I added, unable to resist teasing him. Truth be told, I liked how protective he was. He loved me and he didn’t want to lose me. I totally got that. “Right?”

  “Right.” He looked over his shoulder and trailed his fingers through the water absentmindedly. “Here comes a good one.”

  I paddled forward, watching the wave swell closer. “See ya on the flip side.”

  “Remember, if you go under, wait it out,” he called, his voice tight.

  I nodded as I paddled faster, ignoring the fear surging through me as the wave grew and grew. Apparently, that near drowning affected me more than I thought. I refused to let it conquer my enjoyment of the sport. Heck, people got limbs chewed off by sharks and went back out there. What was an almost drowning in comparison?

  I struggled to my feet, wobbling a bit at first, but as I straightened my legs and stood, I gained my footing—and my confidence. As I rode the wave, holding my arms out for balance, I laughed from the sheer joy of the rush. I didn’t attempt any fancy moves or anything—it took all my concentration just to stay upright.

  But my head pounded and my heart raced, making me lightheaded. God, I’d become such an adrenaline junky since meeting Finn. I wanted to do all the things, and I wanted to do them now—with him at my side. Once my ride was over, I stood up and squeezed the excess moisture out of my hair.

  I made my way back to Finn, a smile on my face the whole time. I’d missed this. Missed surfing, even though it had only been a week or two since we last came out. Maybe this weekend when Finn was gone, I would—

  I stopped walking, a tingling sensation creeping up my spine. I had the weirdest feeling that someone was watching me, but when I looked over my shoulder, the beach was empty. The only people out and about were surfers, and none of them were paying any attention to me. I shook off the creepy sensation, forcing myself to keep walking.

  It was all the uncertainty messing with my head, I’d bet. All the what ifs and Finn’s own suspicions about my father’s silence were screwing with me. Maybe reliving the time I’d been kidnapped contributed to my imagining someone watching me. That hadn’t exactly been a walk in the park or a happy memory to retell.

  All of this stressful crap was obviously combining in one tight ball in my head, making me think the shadows were chasing me. Making me think I was being watched, when the only one watching me was my bodyguard slash boyfriend.

  I had enough to stress about. I needed to stop imagining new things. The whole way back to Finn, I thought about what life would be like after this year was up.

  I was terrified about what Dad would do when he found out Finn and I had fallen in love. He could totally flip out, or he could—unlikely, as it might be—accept it for what it was. Maybe he would be angry, but he’d get over it with time. Or maybe we would never be welcome in his house again.

  He could be quite stubborn when he wanted to be. It’s admittedly where I’d gotten my stubborn streak from. And I wouldn’t put it past him to make it a point to show me how many different ways I’d disappointed him through lectures and maybe even a little bit of a disowning shame. But he wouldn’t actually cut the ties with me all because I dared to fall in love.

  At least I hoped he wouldn’t.

  It was a risk I was willing to take for Finn.

  Later that nig
ht, I waited in the living room as Carrie finished getting ready in my bathroom for our date. Even though we were only going out to dinner, I was nervous for some stupid ass reason I couldn’t quite put my finger on. It was our first real date, yeah, but I didn’t think that’s what was bothering me. I just felt…

  I don’t know. Different somehow.

  As if I was pretending to be something I wasn’t. Again.

  I tugged on my collar. Jesus, I swore the thing was single-handedly attempting to choke the life out of me. I was also starting to think it might win. My palms were sweaty, and I was so hot I didn’t think I was going to make it through the night in this damned contraption. Maybe I’d had more Cali Surfer Boy left over in my blood than I’d thought.

  Or maybe I was going soft.

  I flopped down on the couch, setting my legs on the coffee table. This dress-up date was probably a bad idea. I wasn’t a fancy guy, even if she was a fancy girl.

  I was just me.

  Why did I feel like I needed to be this guy for her all of a sudden? Maybe it was because I was more than likely leaving, and I was having a panic attack of sorts, trying to be everything she could ever possibly want me to be. Or maybe part of me just now realized that no matter what she said or thought, she came from a world where tuxes and champagne were more common than beer and movie nights…and if we were going to be together, I had to be in that world, too.

  If I had any chance in hell in getting her father to accept me, I had to change. I had to be respectful and honorable and dress like this.

  Go on dates like this. Be like this. And I fucking hated it.

  Thinking about all the ways Carrie and I could go wrong made me realize her father still hadn’t texted me even once. My heart clenched and I picked up my phone, scanning through our messages. The last text he’d sent on his own had been the morning Carrie had woken up late for school.

  I tightened my jaw and typed: Carrie is home and taking it easy tonight.

  A whole minute passed with no reply. What. The. Fuck?