Bidding on the Bodyguard

by Kristi Avalon

  Emma stared into her drink as if she were as bottomless as the cup she held. He refilled it, wishing he could refill her drained spirit. “The smell of smoke woke me. I went to the living room. It was engulfed in flames, surrounding my mother. Her hand seemed frozen in the gesture of holding a cigarette. That’s when I knew. She’d passed out with a lit cigarette, dropped it, and the ash ignited in one of the pools of vodka.”

  “Emma.” Her name left his tongue in a gasp of horror.

  The firelight dying in the pit revealed dampness lining her lower lashes. She held out her cup. Even though she’d drunk more than her small body could reasonably hold, he knew they weren’t going anywhere, and he wouldn’t take advantage of her intoxicated state.

  “This is the last refill,” he said. “Or I’ll have to carry you back to the bunker.”

  “Fine.” Emotional weight seemed to squeeze her tone like a strangle hold. “Shane, I don’t share this with anyone.”

  “Thank you for sharing it with me,” he said quietly.

  She looked away.

  Clearing his throat, he didn’t want to sound hooked on the story of her past. But he was—and he craved a happy ending he figured wouldn’t come, a positive resolution to so much pain she’d endured alone.

  Muscles knotted in his back and arms, a reflexive response to the useless wish he could reach back through time and rescue her. Instead, he sat still and listened to her complete her heartbreaking story.

  “I saw mom through the flames, passed out on the couch. I dove through the fire to wake her up. I guess the flames caught on my pajamas. I screamed, and she came to. She waved at the smoke, cursed and held her head. Then I guess her mother’s instinct kicked in. Her eyes cleared. She leaped to her feet, rolled me on the floor and pulled me out of the house. She suffered no damage—except the county decided she wasn’t fit to care for me, and I ended up in foster care.”

  When she swallowed hard, he suspected that time in foster care had been hell. How many surgeries had it taken to repair her burns? Was her mother there, sitting beside her in the hospital, pain-wracked like Emma must’ve been?

  “Mom did everything she could to get me back. Six months later, sober and repentant in front of the judge, Mom won her custody. We reunited.” A weight of sadness shrouded her, thicker than the wooded darkness surrounding them. “It sounds insane, but I wish Jerry had been the first—or the last. He wasn’t.”

  Damn. Shane shook his head, stunned by the disregard Emma had faced.

  “She’d get sober, find a decent apartment on her own and a job that met the county’s income standards, so we could be together again.” Emma shrugged, the glimmer in her eyes dulled by tormented memories. “Of course, she’d meet a guy. Then things fell apart, and she’d find comfort in Southern Comfort, or some alcohol of choice. Never vodka again, but it’s equal substitute. Every six months, she spiraled into her abyss. I went into foster care for six months. Then she sobered up and wanted me back. The cycle continued, year after year.”

  Shane’s hands curled into fists. He wanted to fight for Emma, because the one person she’d counted on had abandoned her continuously.

  He’d faced one abandonment. His father had left their family when he was ten. That didn’t compare to an outpouring of love followed by neglect followed by abandonment, over and over. It would’ve broken most people. If not for her remarkable fortitude, it could’ve broken Emma, too. His heart contracted with compassion.

  I’m so sorry. The words ached in his throat, insufficient to encompass the regret broiling inside him on her behalf.

  “When I was a sophomore in high school, Mom started going to church. She found peace in Jesus, I guess—and real recovery.” Her lips formed in a tight line of sorrow mingled with belated appreciation. “We were inseparable by the time she passed away two years ago.”

  “You forgave her.” He tried to wrap his brain around the strength required to reunite with her mother after a childhood filled with trauma and emotional wreckage caused by the woman she’d most trusted and loved. Somehow, she had let go of the past to forge a future beyond the hurt she still carried, the scars she worked so hard to hide from the world.

  “What good would resentment do?” she whispered. “When all’s said and done, things don’t even out the way they should, but they end up the way they’re meant to.” A tear slid down her face. As he lifted his hand to smooth it from her cheek, she wiped it away. He dropped his hand. “I cherished those last, precious years with her.” The cup in her hand began to sag. He took it from her before it spilled.

  Still battling his own twin demons of regret and remorse over a moment in time he’d give anything to go back and change, he stared into the embers of the fire. “You’re amazing,” he said, beyond humbled. “Emma, seriously. You inspire me.”

  The lack of response caused him to look over. Within the darkness, he realized she’d fallen asleep. Physical and emotional exhaustion had claimed her.

  He hoisted out of his seat, ensuring she was settled against the picnic table before he took their cups and rinsed them in the lake to avoid attracting insects. When he returned from the water’s edge, he capped the remaining bottle of sangria. He stared down at her and sighed.

  The experience she’d shared held no valor. She’d received no medals for her exceptional bravery. No one would commend her in a ceremony hosted by the highest military officials. She would never stand before hundreds of misty-eyed, lauding gazes, the way he and the other marines had been acknowledged for attempting to rescue the special forces unit.

  Emotion wedged in this throat. His heart pumped fiercely in his chest. Emma had received nothing but separation from her train-wreck mom, her only family, followed by a sentence of years in the foster care system.

  She out-braved him by one to a thousand.

  After all she’d endured, the thought of this sweet, innocent, incredible woman getting mugged by three thugs made him want to drive his fist into someone’s face. A nearby tree fielded the punch. His furious shout echoed across the lake.

  He shook out his hand. Flexing his knuckles to make sure everything still worked, he headed for the bunker.

  In the giant duffle he brought, he’d packed a tent. A one-person pop-up, easy enough to construct and make his excuses to the winning bidder in case she had been…someone he didn’t want to share the bunker with, to put it politely.

  A marine always carried a backup plan.

  Ironically, he wanted to share a hell of a lot more with Emma than a bunk bed. He wanted to share his whole damned life.

  An app on his phone provided the flashlight that led him back to the bunker. Upon entering, he grabbed a blanket from the closet and tucked it under his arm. He hauled out the well-compacted tent, slung it over his shoulder and made hard strides back to Emma at the lakeside.

  Relieved to find her slumped over but unharmed, he set up the tent in the dark like an athlete draws on muscle memory to perform a move he’d practiced hundreds of times. Spreading the blanket to cushion them, he exited and considered how best to move her into the cramped confines. He sure as hell would never leave her exposed to the mosquitos and unpredictable elements.

  Scratching his jaw, he thought about placing her inside the tent and sleeping with the blanket against the trunk of a tree. But he couldn’t bring himself to miss the opportunity to lie beside her and hold her in his arms all night.

  “C’mon, Marine. Let’s figure this out.”

  Eventually, he settled on the idea of bracing her on top of him as he crab-crawled into the tent. When they made it inside, he closed the zipper, cocooning them. He gently rolled her off him to position her head on his bicep, as he spooned her beautiful form. His arm draped over her waist reverently. He combed her hair back and kissed the spot behind her ear.

  “Thank you,” he whispered.

  The words encompassed too many emotions he couldn’t dissect or explain. He spooned her, aroused beyond belief. Yet holding her was enough. More
than enough.

  Feeling sleep pulling at his lids, he closed his eyes. His lips held a smile. “Good night, pretty girl.”

  Chapter Seven

  AN ENERGETIC BIRD call pierced Emma’s sleep. The robin sang a crescendo of jubilance that triggered a dull throb in her head. She cracked one eye open.

  Seeing the paleness of morning light, she squeezed both eyes shut, willing sleep to snatch her back into dark bliss. Her lashes tangled, caked with left-on mascara. She frowned. She always removed her makeup before bed.

  When she yawned, her tongue felt thick from dehydration, her brain fuzzy with a lingering trace of intoxication. She stretched her aching legs and toes, feeling the weird sensation of a hard, raised mound snaking beneath her from her hip to her calf like a tree root.

  Huh?

  Both eyes popped open. She stared up at green nylon fabric above her resembling a tent. She grasped for bearings and found none.

  “Oh, my God.” She shot up to sitting. She glanced over to find a man beside her barely clothed in boxers and a gray undershirt, displaying a vast expanse of muscle. Military tags flashed like aged silver coins on his chest. “Oh. My God.”

  Not the worst way to wake up—the vague thought flitted through her mind as she scrambled away, ripping open the tent’s zipper only to feel her arms give out and tree roots tear the skin of her elbows. Ow.

  “Easy, sweetheart,” came a sleep-roughened voice from inside the tent. “You got a little drunk, then fell asleep on me. My ego is bruised, but your honor is intact. I promise.”

  Silver-blue eyes in a tanned face poked out from the tent flaps. “Shane.” She breathed a sigh of relief before she glanced around, baffled. “We stayed the night out here? How did we end up in a tent?”

  Flipping onto his stomach, he hoisted himself onto crossed arms. The angle revealed a stunning view of every finely hewn muscle in those guns and broad shoulders, not to mention the tight ridge of muscle delineating his pecks until his undershirt blocked her roaming gaze. His hair, much longer on top than the sides, draped in careless arcs over his forehead.

  Wow. She’d wager every woman at the auction would’ve paid more than she had for this view. And the heart-stopping smile that came along with the package.

  Then the obnoxious robin tweeted loudly, and the throb in her head intensified. She found a stone under her hand and threw it in the bird’s direction. “Shut up.”

  Her aim fell purposely short. The only living thing she hit was the mushroom mass collected on the side of a fallen log.

  Amusement twinkled in Shane’s eyes. “You’ll feel better after a liter of water and some breakfast.”

  Once they returned to the bunker—with Shane gallantly carting the bulk of their load—he made a mouthwatering breakfast of bacon and eggs, and she showered right after. Human again, and less pissed off at nature, she twisted her damp hair into a bun. She emerged to find his forearms covered in soap suds, rinsing the last dish from dinner the night before.

  “I should’ve cleaned up, after you made that awesome dinner over the fire last night and breakfast this morning.”

  He reached for the dish towel. “I’ll let you make it up to me.”

  “What did you have in mind?”

  Their glances met. Heat created a searing arc of tension between them.

  Those thoughts remained unspoken as he looked away. He tossed the dish towel onto the counter. “I think you should try the obstacle course again.”

  Hurt lodged under her ribs, knowing he agreed with her—she’d failed the first time. Even though she’d finished the course, the victory had felt hollow.

  “Hey,” he said, “I know what you’re thinking, and you’re wrong.”

  She hugged her arms around her waist.

  “You need to understand something.” He walked up to her. His hands came up to cradle her neck as her head fell back into his grasp. His thumbs brushed her cheeks. “No one, not even the kids at this school, face that obstacle course alone. That’s what you thought you needed to do, and I respected that.”

  She swallowed. He shifted his hands to settle on her shoulders.

  “Real triumph comes when you realize you need others to help you succeed. A marine doesn’t go into enemy territory and conquer the bad guys single-handedly. Individuals with elite training come together to create a badass team. That team achieves more than any one marine could by himself. Today, we’ll tackle the obstacle course together.”

  “But you helped me yesterday.” The need for his interference still nicked her pride. A stubborn remnant leftover from her childhood, she still wanted to think she could do anything she dared to accomplish by herself. She didn’t want to need a man, the way her mother had required a male presence to superficially provide an inner strength she’d lacked. A misplaced frustration, but Emma couldn’t entirely shake that old, ingrained go-it-alone determination.

  “Maybe this time you’ll look for my assistance. Try asking for my help when I’m on the ropes or the wall right beside you, instead of assuming you could or should do it alone. We’re up against the odds with each other, you and me. We’re a team, better together than apart.”

  Her breath stilled in her chest.

  Isn’t that what you’ve always wanted? A true partner, in life and in love?

  Since childhood, she’d told herself that level of partnership didn’t exist. What if she’d been wrong?

  What if Shane offered the opportunity to experience something profound, even belief-changing? A chance to accomplish challenging feats with him, together, as a team, even if it only lasted one weekend?

  She took a step back, and he let his hands fall to his sides. “I’ve never been part of a team,” she admitted.

  He nodded. “I know.”

  “What if I’m no good at it?”

  “You’re one of the most kind, caring people I’ve ever met.” The gentleness in his eyes reflected the truth in his words. “You aren’t built to go it alone. None of us is. Let me be there for you.”

  If she agreed, she’d open herself to someone on a level she’d never dared. But like she’d told herself when she raised her hand to bid on him, with life coach Mae’s words spooling through her thoughts, her new ideals were about taking chances and growing, no matter the cost.

  Even if she paid the price with her heart.

  When it came to Shane, she just might risk it all.

  Feeling vulnerable and reckless and oddly free, she nodded and mirrored his smile. “Okay. Let’s tackle this obstacle course together.” She rubbed her neck, wishing she could order a full-body massage, though she wouldn’t exchange this for a pampered spa day. Regardless, yesterday had kicked her ass. “Can I take ibuprofen first?”

  Shane chuckled. “Whatever you need, babe. I’m along for your ride.” He winked. “We’re in this together, remember?”

  From the attitude she’d started out with yesterday, hell bent on facing the hardest challenges alone, today Emma did a one-eighty. Shane had rarely seen someone adapt so quickly to a new mindset. Judging from her inclusiveness, she’d taken his words to heart, choosing to depend on him and face each obstacle as a team.

  He suspected her resilience had a lot to do with her past, and how much she’d already adapted and overcome to get to this point. Did she know that? he wondered.

  If she didn’t, he planned to encourage her fresh perspective and bolster her confidence at every opportunity. Several times, as they tackled the course together, she looked at him with a smile. She amazed him, took his breath away by how she helped him, as much as he helped her.

  One time, she bent to tie his shoelace when he hadn’t realized it came undone. Another time, she unhooked his dog tags from the rope they’d tangled around. She became her best when looking out for someone else. He understood and felt the same.

  You are a beautiful person, Emma. So strong. What you thought was weakness is your strength.

  When they arrived at the top of the second wall, where she’d fro
zen yesterday, she panicked again. He joined her there, reaching for her hand. Her eyes lifted to his, and time stopped. Only the two of them existed.

  He squeezed her fingers. “Together, remember?”

  Blowing out a hard breath that flicked sweat from her temple, she returned the pressure. “Together,” she repeated.

  Though it was slow going, he stayed with her until she completed the obstacle. When they reached the bottom, she beamed. Her victorious laugh was infectious. The sound rang in his heart. He picked her up and spun her in his arms.

  “I knew we could do it,” she said, her eyes glowing at him with appreciation.

  His breath caught in his lungs. Few moments in the past five years shone as brightly the ones he’d shared with her since they met Thursday night.

  When she paused at the final obstacle, barbed wire strings slung low as far as the eye could see, he waited alongside her. She swallowed. “Here is where you saw my scars.”

  “I did.”

  “You said nothing.”

  “No.”

  “Why?”

  He waited until she looked him in the eye before he answered. “Most people don’t realize how much beauty can come from pain. How much pain endured becomes beautifully enduring.” He blinked before emotion filled his eyes. “You’re the most beautiful person I know, Emma.”

  When her eyes welled, he wanted to snatch her up and take her to a place where nothing would hurt her ever again. But that wasn’t reality. He couldn’t save her from the pain she’d known in the past. He could only make the present count.

  “Thank you,” she whispered. “I’m in good company.”

  He nodded toward the field of barbed wire before them. “Let’s do this?”

  “Let’s do this.” She sent him a wobbly smile, filled with trust that touched his heart. “Together.”

  They angled, elbowed, reached and clawed their way, side by side, through the pit beneath the wicked wires. She untangled him. He untangled her. She pulled him forward. He pulled her forward.