by Avery Flynn
“Right. Well, I hope they paid you well. Or does that come out of my pocket?”
Ouch. Uncalled for. But he was seriously pissed.
And she winced like he’d hit her, physically flinching from his blow of words. Before she moved to the door, he saw the glisten of tears.
Yeah, he was angry. And he’d hurled an uncalled for insult instead of telling her he’d had a fantastic time, too.
15
“Margaret Ashley Anderson, nut job extraordinaire is locked up awaiting proper nutso certification.” Emma dropped a file on the breakroom table. “We are really getting a lot of good press on this. I don’t think anyone realizes that the bodyguard in question slept with the major league hockey player she was there to protect.”
“Let it rest,” Essie said. “You’re being rude.”
“Rude? Sorry. I thought this family dinner was a recap and discussion to learn what we should do better. I apologize, cousin. Seriously.”
“Technically, he wasn’t. The client, I mean. That is Roger Sanders, not Deacon or Gage.” Hallie pointed out. “Why does this upset you, Emma? There aren’t any rules here that will get Brooke fired.”
“I’m not arguing that she should. Sometimes my jokes aren’t funny. I really was teasing. It’s what I do.” She turned to the cousin in question. “I really wish I had your power.”
“So you kicked the gun out of her hand and she fell in love with you? I had no idea that your pheromones worked on women, too.”
Essie wrote the reports. Detailed reports for their files. She typed every time Brooke opened her mouth. Brooke was far from proud about what she’d done. She wanted to explain just how ashamed the incident made her feel. She’d succumbed to her pheromones or lust or fangirl puck bunny status.
“Explain to me again what Deacon did.” Grammy sipped her coffee, silent up to the time of her question.
“He yelled, wanting to know what had happened.”
“And he was how many feet away from you?”
“I’d say less than ten.”
“That’s interesting.” She took another sip, then set the cup on its saucer.
“Interesting how?”
“Yeah, Grammy,” Emma echoed. “Interesting how?”
“It doesn’t seem that Deacon was affected the same way as the police officers or Miss Anderson. He didn’t fall on his knees or try to kiss you. He yelled because he was mad.” She turned to Emma. “And, dear, don’t refer to her as a nut job. Your sister’s right, it’s rude.”
“Sorry.”
“Grammy, he had to be affected. He was affected the entire time. Why else would he be so attracted to me so quickly.”
“Well, there is the good old-fashioned kind of attraction. Boy meets girl. Boy kisses girl–or girl kisses boy in your case. Boy falls for girl.” A playful smile spread across her grandmother’s face. “Have you forgotten how all this works, dear?”
“Of course not.” She remembered very well how everything felt and especially how they’d worked so well together.
“Then perhaps you should go explain everything to him?”
“It might be better to give him a little time.” Hallie tapped her pointer finger on the side of her mug. “Gage said he’s pretty upset. He’s not speaking to anyone in his family. The whole going-behind-his-back-to-protect him… We tried to tell him to take the letters seriously.”
“Well,” Emma pointed to the newspaper. “It really is good press. I’m not kidding. The police are giving credit to Brooke for talking Margaret, aka upset super fan, into giving up her gun and saving Deacon’s life.”
“Are we officially voting on our latest addition to Bodyguards in Heels?” Essie asked. “For the record, I love the idea.”
“Me, too.” Emma turned her black coated lips into a genuine smile. “I really am just teasing. Your power–I mean gift–is super cool.”
“To be honest, I didn’t know I could do what I did in the convenience store. It’s the first time I’ve ever been thankful I had it.”
Thankful she’d been able to save Tripp. Horribly cursed that it cost a relationship with him. But if she had to do it again…would she change anything? Would she have been more professional and not gotten involved personally?
She didn’t know. At the moment, she wasn’t thinking clearly enough to reason.
“Then it’s settled.” Grammy reached beside her and set a gift bag on the table. “This is yours, Brooke. It’s for the front of the office.”
Inside the bag was a framed picture of a high heel. The very shoe she’d danced in at the Cup celebration and reclaimed from the desk clerk for two-hundred dollars. Her name was printed in bold letters across the bottom, just like the shoes that represented her cousins.
“This is really... I’m so grateful.”
She might cry. She’d been doing it off and on since the police had released her. Actually, since Tripp had said he didn’t want her explanation. Each of her family came and hugged her. The last was her grandmother.
“You have a very good head on your shoulders, young lady. You’ll know when it’s time to talk with Deacon. Don’t give up. Every love story has a black moment. And I have a feeling, Deacon just might be your happily ever after.”
“We barely know each other.”
“That can change.”
TWO MONTHS LATER
“I’m in training, Mom. I can’t fly home for Dad’s birthday. Why don’t you both come here. I live in a fun city. Lots of sightseeing. They let me have some of the best tables at the best restaurants.”
Deacon stared out the window while his mom listed off all the obligations they had preventing them from leaving Dallas. He’d heard them too many times to count. He’d given as many as he’d heard.
Not going home protected him from seeing a certain raven-haired enchantress. Gage hadn’t let him forget about her. He mentioned Brooke every time he checked in.
“Your father needs to talk with you, sweetheart. Just a second.”
“Hey, Dad. Can we make this quick I’m expecting pizza any minute.”
“I can be quick. I wanted to tell you I made a mistake the last time you were here.”
“About what, sir?”
“You’ve grown up into a splendid young man. You’ve made decisions that were right. Knowing yourself is the key to a happy life. That’s what your mother and I want for you, Deacon. We want you to be happy.”
“Thanks, Dad. That means a lot coming from you.”
“And one more thing. Not trusting you were accomplished enough to handle that mess this summer is all on me. Not your brother or anyone else. Okay? Maybe we will come down for my birthday. Sounds like a fun trip. You enjoy that pizza, kiddo.”
He hadn’t ordered pizza. It was just an excuse to hang up. Had that really been his dad? The man taking responsibility for a wrong decision? It couldn’t have been. The guy on the phone had said he was wrong not to trust me?
He grabbed his coffee and playbook, then retreated to his favorite corner of the loft. Floor to ceiling windows allowed him a view of the Mississippi and the continuous boat traffic. He enjoyed it even more now that he owned it. He flipped the book to the play they’d be practicing and heard a knock on the door.
Nothing new. He didn’t want company. He was ready to send whoever was there packing. But the guy on the other side was his brother who should have been in New York.
“Gage? What are you doing here? Don’t you have a job?”
It was the first time he’d seen his brother since he’d left Dallas. Normally, reuniting required at least a man hug. This visit…not so much. They may have been talking on the phone, but Gage had gone behind his back.
Maybe he’d come to finish the conversation they’d started on that Farm road in McKinney.
“I volunteered to teach a class at the New Orleans FBI headquarters because you need to hear something.” Gage went to the windows, silent for several moments. Then he turned to face Deacon.
“I rea
lly don’t.” He shut the door and wandered back to his coffee, hoping he gave the impression that he didn’t want to listen. “How long are you here? Got time to catch dinner? I just had an enlightening conversation with dad.”
“Did anything strange happen the night you were almost killed?”
“Come on, man. Isn’t it strange enough that a fan fixated on the fact that I needed to be killed?”
“Fair enough. But have you had any unusual thoughts about Hallie’s cousin?”
“We’re talking about Brooke. I’ve told you.” He raised his hand toward his brother signaling to stop the conversation. “I don’t want to talk about her.”
“But you need to. We’ve been debating for two months–”
“Who’s we?”
“Hallie, Patty, me. I thought we should just let you two work it out on your own, but you’re being stubborn jackasses.”
“There’s nothing to work out. I never even got her number. That’s how little we know about each other. There’s no relationship to fix.”
Gage folded his arms across his chest. “Right. So, you seeing anyone?”
“We just started training, big brother.” Hah. Brooke set a high standard to follow.
“So that’s a no. You getting out, hitting clubs?” He nodded like he knew the answer.
Okay he did know the answer–no.
He stuck his hands in his jeans pockets forgetting the coffee growing cold. He’d been thinking about their one day together. He couldn’t get her out of his head.
“Tell me the truth. I’m here because I’ve never seen you so crazy about anyone. And because she’s just as crazy about you. Talk about super fan. She knows all your statistics better than me.”
“That’s not hard.” He shoved his brother’s shoulder, passing him to get to the window.
“Come on. Aren’t you curious about what might happen or about how she made a psychotic woman sit and cooperate with the police?”
“What the hell, Gage? Just stop. It’s over. It was over before it began.” He shoved his hands in the air, over-exaggerating his frustration. Maybe not so much an over-exaggeration… “I’ve thought of every possible way to get back with her. Every possibility ends with the same conversation. How can I ask her to trust me when my family won’t?”
“You can try. Don’t you think it’s worth trying?” He lifted his arms and let them fall back against his sides.
“You brought her with you. What were you thinking?” He wheeled to the front window like any decent hockey player, stopping himself just before he pressed his nose against the glass like a kid. “Where? Where is she?”
“I wouldn’t humiliate her if you refused. She’s at our hotel. She and Hallie drove down from Dallas.”
His heart crunched, then started beating like he’d skated a double shift. “I don’t know what to say to her.”
“Glad to hear you’re at least considering it.” He pointed to a barstool. “Have a seat. There’s something you need to know about Brooke and her family.”
His brother used his FBI voice to convince him not to argue. Whatever he wanted to tell him…he’d listen. Gage took off his suit jacket and neatly hung it on the back of a dining chair. He rarely did that while wearing his gun.
“You have whiskey?”
“Should be at your right knee in the cabinet. But I’m drinking coffee.”
“Well, when I’m done you’re going to need whiskey.” He rummaged through the cabinet, then emerged with a knuckle of the insanely expensive bottle Deacon bought after he signed his first pro contract.
“Stop being dramatic and just tell me.”
“Okay, kid.” He downed his drink, smacked his lips, a pointed a finger from around the empty glass. “Hallie’s family all have woo-woo powers.”
“What are woo-woo powers?”
“You know…” Gage wiggled his fingers at Deacon’s face. “Woo-woo. Strange. Witchy. Supernatural.”
“You’re full of bullshit.” He shoved away from the bar, toppling the stool, more angry than he was the night of the attempted murder.
“Your reaction is exactly why I talked them into letting me come tell you.”
“She’s afraid to tell me more lies? I don’t blame her for not wanting to come in person.” He threw a hand in the air.
“You see. I knew you’d act that way.” Gage poured himself another drink. “Brooke’s almost as pigheaded as you–according to Hallie. I argued you were worse.”
“Stop drinking my whiskey and get out.”
“Nope. I came to tell you about when I thought Hallie was crazy. In spite of loving her and believing in her…I let her go. Never again, brother. Now sit back down while I explain how this family is…different.”
Deacon’s first instinct was that Gage had concocted an elaborate lie. But to what end? If this story about woo-woo powers wasn’t true, it would be easy to prove it.
But if it was true? He’d seen her take control of an impossible situation and save his bacon. No one could explain how she’d done it. Hell, the cops didn’t remember the incident.
It sort of made sense. Weird sense even if two plus two didn’t equal four any longer.
Gage finished and he’d been right. Deacon took the glass of whiskey Gage held out for him then downed the amber liquid in a single gulp. The burn down his throat was nothing compared to the anticipation of seeing Brooke again.
His brother tapped his phone on the counter, leaving it on speaker. “He’s ready. The rest is up to Brooke.”
16
Throughout the nine-hour drive from Dallas to New Orleans she’d reasoned with Hallie that Tripp would never see her. Worrying about what to say to him was a waste of time. Standing in front of his door, she wished she’d given Gage more credit about accomplishing the impossible.
She raised her finger to press the bell. It opened to a pair of quizzical grey eyes.
“I saw you drive up.” He didn’t move or invite her in.
So…this is slightly awkward. “Gage said you would listen to my apology. I can say it from here…if that’s what you want.”
“No. Sorry. Come inside.” He opened the door wide and gestured for her to enter. “Want a drink?”
“I’m good thanks. Hallie and I had hurricanes with dinner.” She didn’t really know what to do and wished again that she’d worked this out during the drive. “So…you know about…”
“That you can make people fall in love with you just by breathing on them?”
“It’s a little more complicated, but that’s basically true.” He gestured for her to sit on the couch. She chose to stand by the window. If needed, she could make a quick break to the door.
“He also said you never used that ability on me.”
“I can’t swear to that, Tripp. But if I did, it wasn’t deliberate.”
“This is sort of fantastical. If my brother hadn’t explained his relationship…”
“Oh, I know. When they told me, I was devastated.”
“You didn’t know you had powers?”
“No. I was asked to resign from the Kansas City PD after sexual harassment allegations. Two men and a woman said I had undue influence over them. One of those cops claimed I’d offered criminals favors.” She couldn’t meet his eyes and stared at the city lights of New Orleans. “Very embarrassing. So there I was, living back at home. No job. No future. When my grandmother comes for a visit and explains how my life could be different.”
“I believe you, Brooke.”
“I’m glad. I’m just here to tell you I’m sorry. No one deserves to be blindsided. I didn’t want my favorite hockey player to hate me forever.”
“That day was sort of crazy. I could never hate you, Brooke. I just didn’t know how to move past it.”
“Oh.” She pressed her lips together. She had a strong urge to cry.
“I didn’t know how to move past it then.”
What had he just admitted? Did he really believe? Could he?
�
��I’m wondering if we... Maybe we should… Dammit, I don’t really know what I’m trying to say here.” He smiled.
“We sort of skipped a lot of steps on your birthday.” She squeezed the words out around the lump suddenly occupying her throat.
“True.” He laughed.
Then he was behind her, turning her to face him. His lips were within reach of hers. She’d come to New Orleans for one reason. Him.
But she couldn’t make the first move. They met in the middle. Both of them with a kiss that represented all the missed days and nights since they’d met.
“We should talk.”
“You’re right.”
They broke apart, panting, forehead to forehead, still wanting more.
“I don’t know how this is going to work.” Tripp sounded like he’d skated all three periods without a break.
“Neither do I,” she admitted. “We do have a successful long-distance relationship to model one after though.”
“I’ve got several weeks here for training. Then I’m on the road…a lot.”
“And I know how to use a phone.”
“Maybe we should give each other our numbers then?”
Was her smile as silly-in-love looking as his? Still touching their foreheads, they both nodded. Grammy was right. Tripp was definitely worth another try.
“Sounds like we’re going to give this a go.”
“I’d really like that,” she agreed.
Deacon didn’t wait for more discussion. He kissed her like he’d been waiting a lifetime. A kiss with all the promise of the happily ever after her grandmother had described. And all the normal happy life she’d ever desired.
~ About The Author ~
ANGI MORGAN combines Texas settings with characters in realistic and dangerous situations. Bodyguards in Heels is a smash-up of her favorite things to read: a little magic, a little comedy and a little suspense. She loves to pack up her husband and rescue dogs for road trips to locations she’s writing about. They have a goal to travel roads they’ve never traveled and find the best pie in the Lone Star State. Contact her via her website or other social media.