Keeping Guard

by Sandra Owens

  The elevator door opened, and his...the princess stepped out. If he was smart, he would walk right past her, get in that elevator before the door closed, and remove himself from her life. He’d be doing them both a favor. The door closed while he stayed attached to the wall. Looked like he wasn’t so smart.

  She stopped in front of him and put her hand on his arm. “Are you okay?”

  No. He was not. Funny thing, though. Her fingers were warm on his skin, and the volcano inside him ready to blow cooled down a little. Strange how that worked, her warmth cooling him.

  Still, he needed to be alone, locked in his room where her concerned eyes weren’t trying to see into his soul. He wouldn’t share his ugly secrets, especially with her. Peyton was sunshine, and he wouldn’t allow the dark inside him to kill her light.

  “Can you open the door, please?”

  Hurt flashed in her eyes. “Sure.”

  Already he was disappointing her. He wanted to tell her that that was what he did...hurt people. It seemed only fair to warn her, but the words wouldn’t come. As soon as she unlocked the door, he headed for the guest room. Lucky raced circles around him, excited to see him.

  Damn dog. As much as he wanted to hide, he had to take Lucky out before closing himself in for the night. He grabbed the leash and hooked it on Lucky’s collar.

  “I’ll walk out with you,” Peyton said.

  “No, I’ll only be a few minutes.” There was that hurt in her eyes again. Maybe it was good that she was learning that all he did was hurt people.

  “Okay. You hungry? I can make us a snack.”

  “Thanks, but no.” He walked out. As he waited for the elevator, she ran out. She was going to ignore his wishes? The simmering volcano grew hotter.

  “You might need this.” She handed him a plastic baggie.

  Puzzled, he stared at it. “For?”

  She rolled her eyes, as much as telling him he was stupid. “If he poops, you need to pick it up.”

  Right. He was stupid. “Thanks.” The elevator opened, and he took the baggie. Without another word, he stepped inside. The door closed, and as he rode down, he called himself every vile name he could think of. He was acting like a jerk, and she didn’t deserve that. An apology was in order, and he’d do that when he returned.

  Lucky did his business, and ten minutes later, he was back in the loft. Peyton was nowhere in sight. Her bedroom door was closed, and he paused. He raised his hand to knock then dropped it. He’d apologize tomorrow.

  If he was going to stay here for a few days, he needed his duffel bag. He considered going to get it, but he didn’t want to leave Peyton unprotected, and he couldn’t be around her tonight. He was too much on the edge to be around anyone.

  He’d thought he was doing okay until he’d touched that guitar, losing himself in the music. Then clapping had sounded in his ears when the last note had faded, and he’d been horrified to see a crowd had gathered. If they knew what he’d done, they would have turned their backs on him instead of cheering him on.

  Stretched out on the bed, he stared at the ceiling. He didn’t have to sleep to see those few minutes that were seared into his brain. All he had to do was close his eyes, and it was there, his own personal horror movie playing behind his eyelids. As if that wasn’t enough, when he finally succumbed to sleep, the nightmare came, with one addition that hadn’t actually happened. In his personal hell, Asim looked straight at him with accusing eyes, and then the bomb exploded. So, he resisted closing his eyes for as long as possible.

  He didn’t deserve to play his guitar or anyone else’s, didn’t deserve the pleasure or the escape the instrument brought him. He’d forfeited the right to lose himself in the peace playing it gave him.

  His eyelids grew heavy, slid closed. Asim looked at him with those condemning eyes. Noah jerked up, his scream dying in this throat. Lucky put his paws on the bed and whined.

  “What?” There was concern in the animal’s expression. Even the dog knew he was messed up. If he was still at the temporary apartment, he’d get in his car and drive somewhere, anywhere. But he couldn’t leave Peyton unprotected. Getting up, he stepped quietly down the hallway in his bare feet.

  In the living room, he turned on the TV, muted the sound, and flipped through the channels until he found a baseball game. Restless, he roamed the living room. “Wow,” he murmured when he stopped in front of her bookcase. The shelves were filled with vinyl albums. In the middle of the bookcase was a turntable. She was just as obsessed with music as he was. Didn’t mean anything, though.

  He returned to the sofa and tried to watch the game, but the ants were biting, so he dropped to the floor and counted his way through a hundred push-ups. Then he started over.

  * * *

  Peyton heard low grunts and wondered what Noah was doing. Since she slept in only her underwear and a soft camisole, she slipped on the leggings she’d worn earlier and a T-shirt over the camisole. She eased her door open and crept down the hall.

  Lord above and all of heaven’s saints, the shirtless man doing push-ups on her floor, sweat glistening on his back, was the hottest thing she’d seen. Ever. She wanted to lick him. She wanted to press her fingers over those bulging muscles in his shoulders and arms. She just wanted. Period.

  He had on jeans, but that was all. Would he agree to lose those if she politely asked? She had never been so close to perfection in a male, and it didn’t seem fair if she couldn’t touch him. Maybe get some more tingling kisses.

  Just thinking about having her hands on him made her sigh with longing. She hadn’t meant to make a noise, but apparently she had, because he stilled with his face an inch from the floor. He rolled into a sitting position with the grace and fluidity of a gold medal gymnast.

  “Peyton?”

  “Hmm?” He wasn’t even breathing hard. How long had he been at it? Ten push-ups torturing her body like that and someone would have to scrape her off the floor.

  “Did I wake you?”

  “No.” She waved her hand. “Carry on. I’ll just quietly sit here.” And commence drooling. She plopped down on the sofa.

  “I’m done.”

  Well, drat. He eyed the hallway, and she was sure he wanted to close himself up in his room again. She didn’t want him to, so she said the first thing that came to mind. “Will you tell me why you have a hummingbird tattoo?” She was still curious about that.

  Ignoring her question, he stretched his neck, rotating his head in a circle, then went to the window. Even from across the room, she could feel the tension rolling off him. She chewed on her bottom lip, then made her decision. If ever there was a man who needed someone to care about him, it was this one.

  The only reason she knew he was aware of her coming up behind him was the way he cocked his ear toward her. When she was close enough to smell his musky scent, she drew in a deep breath.

  “I stink,” he said, his voice gruff.

  “No.” He didn’t. He smelled like all man, and it was intoxicating. She put her hands on his shoulders and pressed her thumbs into the hard knot at the base of his neck. He stilled, and when he didn’t push her away, she massaged the muscles in his shoulders.

  “Gosh, Noah, you’re tighter than a frog’s butt, and that’s watertight.” She felt like she’d won the lottery when he huffed a laugh. Then he lowered his forehead to the window, and she knew he was shutting down again. Not on her watch.

  “Full disclosure, I don’t really know if a frog’s butt is airtight. There are a lot of things I don’t know, but I do know this. You’re running from something, and if you want to talk about it, I’m a good listener. Sometimes I even give good advice. But you don’t have to talk about anything if you don’t want to. It’s entirely up to you. It’s a proven fact, though, that bottling up the bad stuff hurts the soul.” She moved her finger back to the knot at the base of his neck. “That’s why y
ou’re as tense as a boy about to ask a girl he has a crush on to the prom.” She hated it when she rambled, and she was definitely doing that, but she couldn’t seem to stop. “Were you nervous the first time you asked a girl out? I doubt you were. You probably had girls falling all over you.” She would have definitely been one of those girls. “How old were you when you had your fist kiss? I was—”

  Before she knew what was happening, his mouth was on hers. She was beginning to suspect that this was his way of shutting her up, and if so, she had a whole lot more to say if it got her these amazing tingles invading her body.

  When he’d kissed her before, it had only been mouth on mouth, but this time, his tongue slid between her lips, and every thought in her head was obliterated. Nothing existed in the world, nothing mattered but this man and what he was doing to her.

  He slid his hands down to her hips and pulled her to him. She slipped her hands around his neck, needing anything and everything he was willing to give her. He plundered—that was the only word for it—her mouth, lighting her body on fire. She whimpered, wanting more.

  “No,” she said when he pulled away. “Don’t stop.”

  “You need to stop making me kiss you.” He scowled at her, and then he walked away, disappearing into the guest room, shutting the door behind him.

  “Not in this lifetime,” she muttered. She fully intended for there to be more kissing. And hopefully, other body-tingling stuff.

  * * *

  Peyton slapped her hand over the clock, shutting off the blaring alarm. She hated mornings and usually hit the snooze button five or six times before rolling out of bed and stumbling to the bathroom. She was slipping back to sleep when her eyes popped open.

  Was that coffee she smelled. And bacon? How could she forget the sexiest man alive was sleeping in her guest room? Suddenly wide awake, she scrambled out of bed. Ten minutes later, wearing a pair of red shorts and a black sleeveless top that tied at the waist, she walked into the kitchen. Her smile faded when she found it empty.

  A plate was on the warmer, and she peeked under the paper towel covering it. A dozen or so slices of perfectly cooked bacon were on the plate. “Like bacon much,” she murmured. He’d also made a pot of coffee, and she poured a cup.

  Coffee in hand, she walked down the hallway, stopping at the open guest room door. The bed was perfectly made, and she wondered if he’d even slept in it. Where was he? Lucky was missing, too, so Noah was probably out walking his dog.

  The doorbell chimed, and she went to the door and peeked out the eyehole. Seeing it was Dell with her bathroom door, she let him in.

  “This will only take a few minutes,” he said.

  “I really appreciate it.” True to his word, he was done in fifteen minutes. After she paid him, he left. She went to the living room window. “There you are.” Noah stood next to Joseph, the two of them seeming to be in a serious conversation. They talked for another few minutes, and then Noah and Lucky headed her way.

  Taking advantage of the chance to study him, her gaze roamed over him. One thing she noticed was his alertness. She’d bet he was aware of every person around him. If Dalton was lurking nearby, she didn’t doubt Noah would know. That made her feel safe.

  He moved with a confidence she’d never seen in a man before, and as his long legs ate up the sidewalk, power radiated from him. “You’re one sexy boy, Noah Alba.” He looked dang good in jeans and a T-shirt that did nothing to hide one fine body.

  Seconds before he entered the building, he looked up at her, and she realized that he’d known she was watching him. He didn’t smile, just kept his eyes locked on hers until he disappeared from sight.

  She fanned her face as she let out a long breath. Not sure what his mood would be this morning, she decided to finish the breakfast he’d started. It would give her something to do instead of attacking his body as soon as he walked in the door, although that would be her preference.

  What did she want? She considered eggs, but that didn’t excite her. “Pancakes,” she said at seeing the box in her pantry. By the time Noah arrived, she had a pan heating on the stove, and was stirring the mix.

  Lucky ran to her as soon as Noah unclipped his leash. She kneeled, laughing when he tried to lick her face. “Good morning, you sweet thing.” She glanced at Noah. “Good morning to you, too.”

  He grunted something that sounded like “Morning.”

  Okay, grumpy Noah was still in the house. “Dell was here and replaced my bathroom door.”

  “Good.”

  “How about pancakes to go with all that bacon?” She stood and lifted an edge of the paper towel covering the bacon. “Are you going to eat all that?”

  “One can never have enough bacon.” He snatched two pieces, broke off the end of one, and handed it to Lucky. The dog scarfed it up, then lifted begging eyes to Noah.

  “That’s it for you, dog.”

  She flicked a finger against his arm. “His name’s Lucky.”

  “He couldn’t care less what I call him.”

  Now he was just being ornery. “Well, I care.” She was on to him. By refusing to use the dog’s name, Noah was keeping the animal at a distance, not wanting to get attached. “Why do you have him if you don’t want him?”

  “Good question. Ask Jack when you see him.”

  “I’ll do that.” She looked forward to dinner tonight. Maybe she’d learn more about Noah from his friends.

  His phone buzzed, and he put it to his ear as he walked away. While he was talking, she made pancakes. Because she had an open floor plan, she couldn’t help hearing his side of the conversation, and she guessed he was talking to his friend, Jack.

  “I’m going to have to bring her with me,” he said.

  She glanced over to see him looking at her. Bring her where with him? He didn’t appear very happy, and she wondered if he regretted agreeing to stay here. Sometimes she was impulsive, and this was one of those times. No doubt the last thing he wanted to do was follow her around while she tried to find a job.

  “Bring me with you where?” she asked when he finished his call.

  “To Jack’s dog training place.”

  “No can do.” She set their plates on the table. “What do you want to drink? I have juice, coffee, and milk.”

  “You don’t have a choice.” He crossed to the coffeepot and poured a cup.

  “Excuse me?” She put her hands on her hips. “You’re not the boss of me.”

  “Wrong, princess.” He picked up a handful of bacon and wrapped two pancakes around the slices. “Be ready to go in twenty minutes,” he said as he walked out of the kitchen with Lucky on his heels.

  “Hey,” she yelled, but he kept going. She followed him down the hallway. “I’m talking to you.” He closed the door in her face. She banged on it. “Noah, open the blasted door.”

  “Fifteen minutes now,” he said from the other side. “I’d suggest you change into some old jeans, and if you have an old pair of running shoes, those would be best.”

  “I’m not talking to you through a closed door.” Silence. “You really are a jackass!” The blasted man chuckled. If he thought she’d fall in line like a good little soldier, he had another think coming. “I have things I have to do today.” She opened the door. “Like find a...”

  She forgot what she was going to say.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “You’re naked.”

  Noah glanced down at himself. “Not true.” He still had on his boxer briefs. “Another few seconds, and you would’ve gotten an eyeful.” Her gaze roamed over him, and if she didn’t stop looking at him like that, she was going to see physical truth of just how much he wanted her.

  “Ah...” She blinked like someone coming out of a trance.

  “I was about to jump in the shower. Want to join me?” He lifted a brow, daring her.

  “Ah...
” Her cheeks turned pink, and she stepped back. “I’ll just go change.”

  “You do that, princess.” After she shut the door behind her, he glanced at Lucky. “Do me a favor. If I so much as touch that woman again, bite me in the ass.”

  Peyton Sutton was proving to be dangerous to his sanity. Why was he even attracted to her? His life was one of deployments, dangerous situations, and training. Rinse. Repeat. Any woman wanting a ring on her finger was to be avoided at all costs.

  Peyton wasn’t a woman a man walked away from. She wasn’t a one-time thing, and he wasn’t a man who stayed. But he did like that sassy mouth of hers. Who knew he’d find that a turn-on? And the way she blushed? Made him want to discover where else she turned pink.

  All those were reasons he should walk right out her door and put her in his rearview mirror. He would, too, if Joseph hadn’t told him that Peyton’s ex had shown up early this morning and doubled his offer for Joseph to spy on her.

  So he’d stick around for a while. He’d make sure his runaway bride didn’t end up married against her wishes. As soon as that mission was accomplished, he would do her a favor and get out of her life.

  Until then, he’d have to be her shadow. He needed to stop at the apartment and get his duffel bag on the way to Jack’s dog place, and he made a mental note not to forget the picture of his mother that he’d put in a kitchen drawer. It wouldn’t be so bad having Peyton hang out for the day. She could play with the puppies while he did whatever Jack had in mind for him.

  * * *

  “What did you say this place is?” Peyton asked when he parked in front of the dog kennels.

  “Operation K-9 Brothers. Jack trains therapy dogs for our brothers and sisters in need.”

  “When you say brothers and sisters—”

  “Our fellow military personnel, especially those suffering from PTSD.” He reached over the seat and clipped the leash on Lucky’s collar.

  “That’s really awesome. And you’re a part of this?”