by Carol Ross
“I understand that.” He paused to nod, taking a couple of breaths while he was at it. “Let’s consider these lessons one and two.” He held out his thumb to count. “Cell phone on, number one. And number two is a habit you should never ever relinquish. I don’t care who you are. I’d tell my sister the same thing, and she’s not a billionaire’s daughter whose dad was almost assaulted.”
“You have a sister?”
“Yes.”
“Is she—”
“Stay with me here,” he interrupted with an impatient shake of his head. “It doesn’t matter where you are or who you’re with—you keep the door locked. And don’t answer the door if you don’t know who it is like you did for me yesterday, okay? I don’t care if you see the cable guy, the UPS man or a little old lady holding a giant bouquet of flowers.”
“Got it.”
“Not even if Santa Claus is standing out there on your porch do you open that door.”
Nodding, she set her tone to overly serious, “That fat guy can take his bag of gifts somewhere else. What a weirdo.” She swiped a careless hand through the air. “Who wants presents and flowers anyway?”
The chuckle that escaped his lips seemed to surprise him. He shook his head, but his mouth remained curled at the corners like he was fighting a grin. The struggle appeared real, and Harper felt an inordinate amount of satisfaction at causing it.
“I’m serious,” he said, his expression turning stern again.
“I know you are and so am I. Despite my...jokiness, I do want to know this stuff. I understand the value. I appreciate your efforts already, and I’m committed to changing my habits.”
“Good. Then we’re going to talk about your note-writing venture, as well. Why would you leave a note on your door letting everyone know where you are?”
Harper didn’t miss the implication. Holding up a finger, she countered, “I didn’t say where I was, only that I was gone and would be back in time for our meeting.”
“It wouldn’t be difficult to look in the garage and discover that your vehicle is here. Anyone could deduce that you were on the beach, wait here for you and—”
“Except,” Harper interrupted with another finger point, “the security system covers the entire property and would alert me that someone was on my property.” If she only knew how to use that feature, she was sure it would come in real handy. But Kyle didn’t know that she didn’t know.
“You didn’t have your phone on, so how would you get the alert?”
Busted. “If you were a bad guy, you wouldn’t know that.”
“Harper—”
“Fine, I see your point. No more notes.”
Bobbing his head slowly, as if he wasn’t sure whether he could trust her sincerity, he said, “Talk to me directly, okay? Which brings up another point, we’ll figure out a code word or phrase when we’re talking or texting so that in a potential emergency situation, I know it’s you and you know it’s me and that you are, or aren’t, under duress. We’ll also come up with an ‘I’m okay’ wave or hand signal as well as distress signals.”
Yikes. “All right.”
“I’m going to go change. I’ll be right back.”
“Sounds good,” she said. “How do you like your coffee?”
“Hot.”
He left, and Harper heaved out a breath, grateful for a moment to gather her wits. She retrieved a towel and wiped up the water Kyle had tracked inside. At the back door, she noticed her shoes had made a puddle, too, so she opened the door and set them outside. She headed back to the kitchen where she poured coffee into two mugs and wondered what she’d gotten herself into. She’d barely sat down in the living room when Kyle returned, scowling again, she noted with disappointment.
She’d just taken her first sip of coffee when he said, “The door was unlocked again.” He gestured in the general direction of the back door. “I locked it behind me.”
Harper choked on the liquid, and after a nice long cough, she wheezed, “You’re joking, right?”
“Absolutely not.”
“But you were coming right back!”
His response was another menacing stare.
“Wait, were you testing me somehow? Did you leave on purpose to see what I’d do?”
“No! I was soaking wet. Harper...” With a quick shake of his head, he took a seat across from her. Leaning forward, he placed his forearms on his thighs. “This is not a test. It’s a lifestyle.”
“All right. I get it. From now on, I will lock you out every single chance I get.”
“You can’t lock me out, I have a key, but I promise you I will relish using it.”
She chuckled, but he held fast to his serious face. Why did she take that as a challenge?
He said, “For today, let’s start with your schedule. Can you give me a copy of your weekly schedule?”
“No.” What did he think, she was a dentist or an accountant where she could list her hours and appointment times? At his frown, she explained, “That would literally be impossible. I’m a photographer. My schedule varies a lot. Right now, I’m taking photos for a book about the Oregon Coast so it’s all about the scenery and wildlife.”
“Right.” Kyle nodded, looking thoughtful. “Let’s do it day by day, then. Can you give me a schedule each morning? Write down what you’re going to do that day, and we’ll talk about all the ways we’re going to make sure you’re the safest you can be while you do them.”
“Uh, I can try, but it’s—”
“Great,” he interrupted. “Can you do that now? Give me your schedule for today, and we’ll get started?”
Taking care not to let her exasperation show, she answered, “Sure.” Better to show him anyway. She stood and walked into the kitchen where she scrawled a few lines on a notepad before tearing off the page. Back in the living room she handed it over and resumed her seat. “Here you go.”
Kyle bent his head and studied the words. Across the top, she’d written the date and underlined it. Underneath that she’d added, “Office Work—8:37 a.m.—until I get hungry (usually around 11:30).”
Keeping his chin down, he looked up at her, eyebrows raised in question. If Harper knew him better, she might describe the expression as sardonic. Possibly, he was amused.
“Like I was trying to explain earlier, my life is currently focused on the scenery and wildlife, which revolves around the weather. And I’m sure you know how unpredictable the weather is here on the coast. When the weather is good, I’m out taking photos in the mornings and again in the late afternoon and sometimes into the evening. Or I might be out all day.”
“Where is out, usually?”
“Oh, that varies, too. It can be right down here on the beach or hiking in the woods or the middle of town—or some other town or interesting location along the coast. Occasionally, people book me for photo shoots. I’ve been traveling to the various lighthouses and historic buildings and forts. I take an occasional boat trip up a river or out on the ocean. Today is simpler because of the rain. But if the weather clears, which it’s supposed to do this afternoon, then...” She broke off with a helpless shrug.
“Okay,” he answered, and Harper knew he was trying to absorb this information. She wondered if he was regretting taking the job at all. “We’ll just worry about today for now. What is office work, exactly?”
“Today, it’s editing photos, returning emails and bookkeeping.” She made a show of checking the time on her fitness tracker. “In fact, I better get going. It’s 9:22. Shoot, I’m late.”
His eyes lit with something she couldn’t quite identify while the left side of his mouth curved up. She already liked that side because she’d learned it was a sign that he was fighting a smile, elusive as it was. Harper decided she better cut her losses before he lectured her again about taking all this safety stuff seriously. Which she was, truly. She
wasn’t sure why she felt the need to provoke him into lightening up like this.
He cleared his throat. “So, after lunch...?”
“I’ll update the schedule for you then, or even before that if it stops raining.” With that, she added a wink, pushed to her feet and took her coffee cup off the end table. Then she sauntered down the hall and into her office where she shut the door behind her with a soft click. Once safely ensconced within the room, she spun a circle and sighed a huge breath of relief. Despite her determination to not let Kyle Frasier intimidate her, he made her feel...something. Some things actually. What those were exactly, and what they meant, had yet to be determined.
* * *
IN THE LIVING ROOM, Kyle sat frozen in his chair, staring at the spot where Harper had just disappeared and feeling both relieved and unhappy. Less than an hour on the job and he was already reconsidering this decision.
Just when he’d thought he’d discovered a way to ease his grief and remorse over Owen, he’d managed to add another layer of guilt instead. It was also going to increase the level of difficulty in accomplishing this mission. And that’s exactly the way he needed to view this job. As a mission. Where there was no place for emotion. All of which would be so much easier if Harper would stop touching him and making him laugh.
Kyle lifted both hands and raked them through his still-damp hair. Why hadn’t he anticipated this? He and Owen had always had so much in common; it only made sense that they’d be attracted to the same woman. He tangled his fingers behind his neck, taking a moment to absorb the repercussions of this revelation. He’d spent his life performing some of the most dangerous military missions in the world. He could handle this, he assured himself. All he needed to do was keep his guard up, remind himself that, dead or alive, Harper was Owen’s girlfriend. Just because his buddy had died, it didn’t change that, at least not from his perspective. And just like him, Harper was still grieving Owen’s death. Kyle’s one and only job here was to help keep her safe.
CHAPTER FIVE
“IT WOULD BE so cool to go back in time and see this place like Lewis and Clark did, don’t you think? Except without having to schlep the four thousand miles to get here.”
Kyle pressed his lips together in an effort not to smile as he and Harper strolled along the sidewalk in Astoria, a historic, artsy, upbeat little city located a few miles inland from the ocean and perched right on the edge of the Columbia River. As predicted, the weather had cleared, and Harper had decided to spend the afternoon at the town’s Spring Fling Festival since she’d missed out the evening before.
Kyle estimated they’d walked roughly five miles with Harper snapping photos of everything from the boats on the river, the eclectic mix of people, their pets—including one pig, a ferret and too many dogs to count—to several of the beautiful Victorian homes and historic buildings. Also included were some of the artwork and crafts for sale at the booths, as well as the artisans who’d labored over the creations.
Kyle used the time to instruct her on some basic precautions: how to be aware in a crowd, what dangers to watch for and the most vulnerable positions at their various stops. He encouraged her to utilize her artistic eye and memorize details and faces. He taught her how to tell if someone might be following her and what to do if they were. They agreed on their hand signals and practiced those.
In between Kyle’s directives, Harper shared fun facts. Did he know Astoria was the oldest city west of the Rocky Mountains? The town was named for the fur-trading mogul John Jacob Astor whose great-grandson later died on the Titanic. The Astoria-Megler Bridge was over four miles long, and they close it once a year for a fun run. The 1985 cult classic film The Goonies was filmed here. On it went. And Kyle enjoyed every second. She had a way of imparting information with a mix of enthusiasm and wonder, which she interspersed with a smattering of the ridiculous that made even the otherwise mundane seem interesting. Or funny. The challenge was keeping his commentary to himself, refraining from asking follow-up questions and just generally trying not to engage on a personal level.
Possibly breaking his own guidelines, he added, “I’m not so sure about going back in time that far. I’ll also pass on the camping out for three months in the wintertime without proper provisions.”
“Same. No thanks. I think I read somewhere that it was an unusually wet winter that year. Imagine that without your rubber boots and Gore-Tex. Do you like camping?”
“With the right supplies.”
Kyle did like camping and backpacking. He’d spent his childhood camping with his dad whenever they could get away. He was grateful for the skills his dad had taught him as well as the time they’d spent together. That knowledge had given him an advantage when it came to his Special Forces training. But he didn’t share any of that even as he wondered what she’d say next.
“Can you believe I’ve never been camping?”
“No, I—” he said, biting back the offer to take her. He was surprised, seeing how her dad was such an environmental advocate. “Everyone should try it at least once,” he added, pleased with his self-restraint and diplomatic reply.
“I don’t feel cheated or anything. Not everyone gets to grow up in a lab like I did, which was very cool. My toys were discarded microscopes and old lab equipment. That’s actually how I discovered my love for photography. My dad gave me a camera that had outlived its usefulness.” After a pause, she added a wistful, “That camera became my best friend.”
Her tone held the customary lighthearted tenor he was already accustomed to, but there was something about the joke that fell flat. The sincerity of it, he decided. And the picture of loneliness it presented. The vision of Harper as a little girl in an empty lab with a camera as her only playmate appeared before him, tugging and twisting at his heartstrings. Ready to break his own rule, he started to ask her about that, about what her life was like as the only child of an eccentric, ambitious scientist.
The vibration of his phone in his pocket stopped him. A text from Josh. Kyle’s stomach took an anxious dip as he stared at the display, rereading the message multiple times, Call me ASAP. Something we need to discuss. It’s about Owen.
Owen? What could that possibly mean? He had no idea. But for Josh to go all ASAP on him meant it was important. His finger hovered over Josh’s grinning avatar. But he couldn’t leave Harper in the middle of the street to make the call. And he didn’t want to talk about Owen in front of her.
Kyle looked up to find Harper studying him curiously. “Is everything okay? Do you need to take care of something?”
“Oh, uh, yeah. I mean, no, it’s fine.” He tapped out a response, Can’t talk now. Will call when I can. And then, as was his habit, he deleted both messages before slipping the phone back inside his pocket. The conversation would have to wait until later when he got Harper home and settled in behind her security system and he had some privacy.
“It’s a good idea to get in the habit of deleting messages on your phone that might give someone an idea of future plans and where you’ll be at any given time or date. That sort of thing.”
“Makes sense,” Harper said agreeably. “Do you want to grab a bite to eat before we head back? There’s some great food in this little city.”
“Sounds good,” Kyle said, realizing he was getting hungry.
They continued on, and Harper asked, “Do you like sushi?”
Ugh. Sushi was fine, but it meant he’d be grabbing a burger later. It tasted okay, but it didn’t stick with him for long. “Sushi is fine,” he said. “If that’s what you like.”
“Oh.” Harper flashed him a quick apologetic grin. “I don’t actually.”
Kyle responded with a questioning frown. “Then why—?”
She pointed, and Kyle saw they were walking past a restaurant with a sushi sign in the window. “I was just wondering if you did. I don’t get the craze. It’s not very filling, is it? It’s mor
e like an appetizer to me. Don’t get me wrong, appetizers are fun, but they’re not a meal. Sushi and a sandwich, sure. But just sushi and I’m already planning my next meal.”
Kyle couldn’t help but smile at that. He forced himself to turn away to avoid sharing a moment. He looked out toward the wide expanse of water that was the Columbia River and the over four-mile-long bridge spanning its width. He wondered if she’d be interested in running over the bridge with him someday? Because that sounded fun and she’d probably make jokes the entire way. He wanted to ask about her favorite foods. He wanted to know all about her, including the camera that served as a substitute for a little girl’s best friend.
Kyle had hoped that spending time with her would curb his growing attraction. Not happening. She was so...easy to be with. It was tempting to let his guard down and establish a friendship. But he knew that getting to know her better was not a good idea, not when he already felt the way he did. This was discouraging.
A woman pushing a stroller emerged from a shop on the sidewalk ahead of them. A little boy pranced next to her, clasping an ice cream cone that was rapidly melting into his sleeve. A slightly older girl munched on a paper-wrapped cookie she held in one hand while clutching a leash attached to a giant dog with the other.
“What about ice cream?”
“What about it?”
“Do you like it?”
“Yes,” he answered without elaborating, all the while speculating about her favorite flavor and hoping she’d volunteer it.