by Onley James
The man standing before him had to be six and a half feet tall at least. He had shoulder-length auburn hair, but he’d swept the top part off his overly symmetrical face in some bastardized version of a man bun that shouldn’t look hot but somehow worked on him. He had a beard too. Elijah hated beards. They were gross and most guys were using them to hide a weak chin… but his dick was not getting the message. It was already attempting to say hello to the stranger. Damn this heated swimming pool. What was he supposed to do with this lumbering behemoth?
Elijah floated closer, head spinning with possibilities as he tried to force his anxiety back down to his baseline of six instead of the twelve that had his heart racing. In the sunlight, the man’s eyes weren’t green or brown but literal gold, so light they almost glowed like some mythological creature. He also had freckles everywhere. Freckles were not hot. Freckles were why laser treatments existed. This guy was like a unicorn, a unicorn in the skin of the world’s hottest, tallest, lumberjack highlander.
Elijah blinked rapidly when he realized he was picturing his new bodyguard in nothing but a kilt slung low on narrow hips. He pinched his thigh hard enough to bring tears to his eyes. No good would come from heading down that road. Lucy held out a giant blue towel, but his gaze flicked to the stranger. “Yeah, I wasn’t expecting company, so I’m not wearing a bathing suit.”
Shepherd—which was just a stupid name—squatted beside the pool, his gaze falling below the waterline. “Oh, I know. You were floating face up when we got here, and this water is crystal clear. My compliments to your pool man.”
His voice… that voice would be a problem. He needed to focus, to erect a mental roadblock to keep from fantasizing about his new bodyguard. But isn’t the safest place in the world under this hulking lumberjack of a man? Nothing would hurt him under there. He fought a groan. He also needed to stop thinking about the word erect immediately.
He plastered a wan smile on his face and maintained eye contact as he ascended the pool stairs like a queen walking to her throne, accepting the towel from Lucy and wrapping it around his waist. As he passed the taller man, he flicked his gaze upwards, sucking in a breath as he took in those strange eyes from mere inches away.
A knowing look slid across Shep’s face as he hooked one brow upwards. “You okay?” he asked, a smile playing on his lips. Jesus, he even had freckles on his lips. His very kissable perfect lips.
Elijah slicked his hair back with both hands, his lip curling in a sneer. “You smell like an ashtray.”
Whatever reaction he’d hoped for, it wasn’t the slick grin that split the older man’s face. He leaned into Elijah’s space, inhaling. “And you smell… salty.”
“I don’t like you.”
Shep’s hand slapped over his heart. “That’s a shame. I had us already picking out curtains.”
Elijah pulled a face. “Wow, you’re hilarious. Did we pay extra for that or are you another hack comedian trying to move out of mommy’s house once and for all?”
The giant ginger did this thing where he scraped his top teeth along his bottom lip before grinning and it was the single most erotic thing Elijah had witnessed in his life. If he had been wearing panties, they might have fallen off. He swallowed hard, forcing himself to concentrate as the other man spoke.
“I get paid to guard your body. The jokes I give for free, rabbit.”
“Rabbit?”
“Yeah, that’s what I’m going to call you,” he said as if it wasn’t negotiable.
Why rabbit? He was certain it wasn’t a compliment. His hand fluttered to his throat in an overly feminine gesture Lucifer hated. “I really wish you wouldn’t.”
“I mean if you feel that strongly about it...”
He pressed his mouth into a firm line. “I do, yes. Quite strongly. Thank you.”
Shepherd smiled with too many teeth. “Hey, you’re welcome. Anything for you… rabbit.”
Un-fucking-acceptable.
Elijah huffed before turning and stomping his way into the house like a petulant child. Once in his room, he unplugged his cell phone from the charger only to find three missed calls from Lucy and one text in his group chat from Wyatt that ominously read:
Wyatt: Did you see him yet?
The sting of betrayal was almost too much to bear.
Elijah: Tell me you two didn’t know about this?
He watched as two sets of dots danced. Charlie was the first to respond.
Charlie: Know about what?
Elijah flopped back on his mattress.
Elijah: My new bodyguard! The Last Highlander.
Wyatt took longer to respond.
Wyatt: Hey, Charlie is the one that recommended Linc to Lucifer, so this is her fault.
That traitor.
Elijah: Charlie!
Charlie: What? I was drunk.
Wyatt: You’re always drunk, you lush. But he’s insanely hot, no? Did you know he has an identical twin brother? An identical gay twin brother?
Elijah took a minute to ponder the notion that there were two of them, trying to lasso back thoughts of being spit-roasted between giant ginger twins.
Elijah: That is hardly the point.
Wyatt: This is exactly the point. Play your cards right and maybe you can get yourself a big, burly gingerbread man to put his icing all over your cake.
Elijah bit his lip, refusing to play this game with them. Charlie and Wyatt thought everybody should be getting laid all the time because they were both always getting laid. Wyatt had his hunky fiancé, Linc, and Charlie… she was more about the hook-up du jour. They were constantly trying to assure Elijah that there was no problem that dick couldn’t solve.
This was a disaster. He didn’t want somebody looming over his shoulder twenty-four hours a day. He needed at least one place where he could just be himself, one place where he didn’t have to hide who he really was. He had things… personal things he liked to do… things he needed to be alone to enjoy.
Charlie: Wyatt’s right. If Lucifer handed you some man candy, I say eat him.
Elijah: You’re forgetting the highlander likes tacos, not eggplant.
Charlie: But his brother likes eggplant!
She followed up her tweet with two eggplants and a peach emoji.
Elijah: Listen, nobody is putting their eggplant in my peach. Got it?
Wyatt: Fine but maybe if you had a little more eggplant in your diet, you wouldn’t be such a miserable cow all the time.
Elijah: Well we don’t all have hot Daddies glazing our peaches anytime we bat our lashes.
Wyatt: Please. You’ve got a super-juicy peach. There are a million guys who would Daddy you so hard. You could have so many eggplants. All the eggplants. Maybe the Highlander’s brother?
Charlie: This conversation is making me hungry.
Elijah: You’re both dead to me. We’re not friends anymore.
Charlie: We’re still doing mimosas and mani-pedis at your house tonight, right?
Elijah: Duh.
Shep lit a cigarette and took a drag, his gaze lingering long after Elijah had pivoted. Disappointment settled in. The boy was so… excitable. Something about the way his cheeks flushed, and his gaze had darted about like a scared rabbit a split second before he’d exited the pool as regal as a king. He was… contradictory. His actions, his affect, his demeanor all so at odds with each other. Shep liked it. It was something different—the boy was something different—after forty-two years of sameness. Shep wanted to play with him some more.
“Hey. You.”
He turned to see the dark-haired woman coming at him, waving her hand at the trail of smoke coming from his cigarette like she was trying to see through the thick haze of a four-alarm fire. Was everybody in LA this dramatic?
“Smoking is illegal pretty much everywhere in California. Lung cancer is a real thing and your second-hand smoke is risking Eli’s life. You know that, right?” she asked, glaring at his cigarette.
He took a deep drag, slowly exhaling the
smoke into her face before dropping it to the ground, stamping it out beneath his boot heel. “All gone. Crisis averted.”
She coughed then sneered at him. “Listen, Carpenter—”
“Shepherd,” he corrected, knowing full well she hadn’t forgotten his name in the ten minutes since she’d introduced him.
“I knew it was some biblical occupation,” she said, brushing off her mistake. “I wasn’t expecting you to be so… well, like this.” She waved her hand at him. “I can’t have you doing… that thing you were just doing. That ends now or I’ll have to have you replaced.”
He frowned, trying to puzzle through her cryptic statement, but nothing came to mind. “I don’t follow. The thing?”
She planted her hands on her hips, her red nails looking like blood splatter against the fabric of her pants. “Yeah, you and Eli with the flirty-flirty.”
Shep tilted his head, examining the woman. “You thought we were flirting?” Shep took a moment to mentally flip through things he perceived as flirting, positive he hadn’t gotten that one wrong. “That was not flirting. If anything, I was rude.” How fucked up were the people in this town that they mistook being a dick for flirting? Shep had spent most of his life feeling like he was from another planet, but these people were truly alien to him.
“Rabbit. That’s what I’m going to call you,” she mocked, dropping her voice low in a terrible impersonation that made him sound like he had the IQ of a turnip.
“I don’t talk like that,” he muttered.
She rolled her eyes. “Look, I get it. He’s hot. He’s a celebrity. He’s just bitchy enough to knock your Kinsey rating from one to three, but I’ve finally gotten his career back on track and he will be every bit the star his grandfather was.”
What was a Kinsey rating? His brow hooked upward. “Still not sure exactly what that has to do with me.”
She made a disgusted noise. “Are you kidding? It’s hard enough keeping his cat in the bag without you trying to sniff his tail like the big bad wolf,” she snapped. “Eli and I have a deal. When he’s at home, he can be the queen of the castle, but out there, I need him to be approachable Ellen gay, not yas-queen-glitter-twink gay. His career depends on it, and so does mine.”
Her muddled metaphors were giving him a migraine. Still, he kept a casual smile on his face. “I’ll say it again, slowly this time. There was no flirting. I’m just here to do a job. I don’t answer to you.”
If steam could have come out of her ears it would have, but still, she crossed her arms, giving him an almost deranged smile, clearly determined to establish her dominance. “You obviously don’t know who I am. Ask around. I can make your life very, very unpleasant.”
She was already making his life unpleasant. He didn’t have time for this shit. He let his mask slip, losing his affable expression for one of utter indifference. The color drained from her face and she swayed away from him. He kept his voice low, his tone calm. “I don’t have to ask around. I don’t care who you are. But I’ll offer you a bit of advice. Don’t fuck with me or I’ll be the one making your life very, very… unpleasant.”
For a split second, she seemed like she might choke on her own tongue, but to her credit, she recovered quickly. “Fine. I suppose I read the situation wrong. But you have to understand, Hollywood isn’t like other places. Eli needs to be likable and non-threatening. That’s why he has Robby.”
“Robby?” Shep parroted.
“Yes, Robby Shaw is an adorable, family-friendly, studio approved Nickelodeon gay with a hot new tv show on NBC. He’s perfect. He’s exactly what Eli needs. Not some hot Scottish porn star with more muscles than brain cells.”
Shep blinked. “Am I the hot Scottish porn star in this scenario?”
She bared her teeth. “Just keep it in your pants, Carrot-top. Eli has an interview with ET in three hours. The car will be here in thirty. Make sure he’s ready.”
He could still hear her heels clicking on the travertine tiles when he left in search of his prickly new charge, assessing the property as he went. The house was a nightmare by security standards with a back made almost entirely of floor to ceiling windows on both floors. If anybody was to breach the perimeter, they would have unfettered access to every room in the house. Even the front of the home held two large windows, spanning either side of the entry and another bank of windows along the second floor. The only thing working in Shep’s favor was that it sat in a gated community that boasted of their fortress-like protection and round-the-clock security presence.
The inside of the house was equally problematic. In true Mid-Century modern style, the bottom floor was one cavernous room filled with sleek, modern oversized furniture, which seemed like a sad attempt to create a cozy space in what was a small warehouse. Other than the kitchen and guest bathroom, there was only one other room off the first floor—the master bedroom. Shep didn’t like Elijah’s ground floor bedroom, but he’d deal with that later.
He wandered back toward the bedroom in question. The door sat ajar. He was lifting his arm to knock when the boy emerged, brushing against Shep as he passed despite the vastness of the hallway.
“Were you spying on me?” he asked, tone casual, like he was asking about the weather.
Shep smirked. This kid… He ignored the strange taunt. “Time to go, rabbit. The scary woman says the car is on its way.”
“I wouldn’t mind, you know,” Elijah told him, throwing a smoldering look over his shoulder. “You watching me, that is.”
Now that was flirting. Shep trailed after the younger man almost without thought. He was getting whiplash. Was this not the kid who’d hissed and spit at him like a wet cat ten minutes ago? “I thought you didn’t like me?” he heard himself say.
“I don’t see what that has to do with anything,” Elijah countered, crossing the living room into the blinding white kitchen with its natural wood counters and gleaming appliances. He hopped gracefully onto the island, before snagging an apple and taking a huge bite. Shep stared as the juice ran down the boy’s chin, his cock hardening as he contemplated catching the drops with his tongue. Was Elijah’s skin as salty as his attitude? He shook his head. Where the fuck had that thought come from? He blamed Lucifer.
The kid smirked then like he could read Shep’s mind. There was something intriguing about that prospect. What would Elijah think of Shep’s poorly wired circuits? He turned the notion over while they studied each other, neither willing to speak. Shep couldn’t get a bead on this kid. Was the boy being provocative? Flirting? Some strange hybrid of the two? Was this behavior the reason for his manager’s poolside warning? Elijah was a jumbled knot of contradictions and Shep wanted to pick at him until he unraveled.
With Elijah perched on the counter, Shep couldn’t help but notice his clothes. Fitted jeans, a baby-blue zip-neck cardigan the same color as his eyes, and gleaming brown leather boots. The outfit looked like they’d pulled it straight from a Nordstrom’s mannequin. It was trendy, boring, and completely unsuited for somebody as shiny and fascinating as Elijah. There wasn’t a trace of the fussy boy he’d found floating naked in his pool. “Is this what approachable gay looks like?” he mused out loud.
The sparkle in those bright blue eyes dulled as he glanced down at his clothes. “I see you’ve talked to Lucifer.”
“She may have mentioned something, yeah.”
He waved a hand. “It’s not a big deal. It’s only clothes. At least I don’t have to hide who I am anymore.”
Lie. “So, this is who you really are, huh? A mopey day trader in sensible shoes?”
“Well, we can’t all shop from the Paul Bunyan catalog, can we?” he murmured, letting his gaze rake over Shep with interest.
Shep couldn’t shake the feeling that this was all to make him nervous, like the boy hoped this flirty banter would make Shep uncomfortable enough to leave. This kid did not understand how futile his campaign was. If Shep could have felt bad, he might have. Instead, he grinned. “Does studio-approved Robby sh
are your love of cashmere sweaters? You must be so happy together.”
Elijah’s eyes widened, his jaw tightening until the muscle there ticked, but he didn’t take the bait. Interesting. Was that the real Elijah peeking his head out or just another personality the boy was trying on for size?
He sulked as he finished half of his apple before jumping from the counter and dropping the remains into the garbage. His gaze flicked towards the front of the house. “Car’s here,” he muttered before stalking off in the direction of the front door. Shep stared after him, a strange sensation washing over him. The boy was a tornado, destructive even when still, and every time he disappeared Shep couldn’t help but mourn the loss.
He hadn’t had many expectations going into this job. He hadn’t really needed the money, but his parents had driven home the point that people like him needed to maintain appearances. Forty-two-year-old men had day jobs. His previous line of work left his resume… sparse and his previous employer wasn’t likely to recommend him given how they’d parted ways. He’d called Jackson hoping the man would know of somebody looking to hire someone like Shep. He hadn’t expected Jackson himself would make an offer. He hadn’t expected to find something so intriguing in his new charge.
Shep liked to tinker, liked to take things apart and see how they worked, regardless of the damage it caused. He only realized something was wrong with him the day he’d told his mother he wanted to be a surgeon. She’d looked so hopeful for a whole minute. When he’d told her it was the only way he could cut people open and see what was inside, she made him his first doctor’s appointment. He was five.