“Could I talk to you for a moment?” He stepped back and tilted his head toward the porch. “Alone?”
“Sure.” She tossed her clipboard on the table and moved through the living room and out the front door, holding it for him. “But you should button up that shirt before you give my neighbors a heart attack.”
He shut the door behind them and glanced through its window, checking on the three men, who were all still in place. He turned to Autumn. “I seem to be missing something. Who are these guys?”
“Potential bodyguards.” She delivered the statement as if it was perfectly reasonable.
“For you? Is this because of the guy from last night?” That wasn’t a bad idea. She’d had a traumatic experience and needed to know that she was safe. It was overkill, but if it helped her to… She shook her head, interrupting his chain of thought.
“No. For you. You agreed on a bodyguard.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Uh… yeah, you did. In bed. Right after you told me that I could have access to your calendar and travel schedule.”
He shook his head. “No. I didn’t say any of those things.”
She huffed out an irritated breath. “Yessss, you did. You can’t change your mind now. I already signed a contract with the security firm.”
“You WHAT?”
There was a cheerful honk from behind them, and he turned to see a minivan pull in next to his truck, the passenger door opening. A miniature blonde body tore around the front of the van and sprinted across the lawn and onto the porch, her arms outstretched. “Auttieeeeee!”
Autumn bent down to pick up the child, who started talking the moment her feet left the ground. “Mommy let me drive in the neighborhood. I steered and everything.”
“Oh really?” Autumn rubbed her nose against the child, and his heart skipped a beat at the sight. The child looked like it could be her own, and he shifted uncomfortably at the rapid right turn his brain took at the vision. It must be the sex, clouding his brain and sending his thoughts into left field.
Speaking of which…. He angled left, trying to get in Autumn’s line of vision. “What do you mean, you signed a contract?” He couldn’t afford bodyguards, and had definitely not agreed to one, much less three.
“Hello.” An older version of Autumn stopped on the bottom step, a toddler in hand, and looked up at him. It was the cute mom from his neighborhood, the one married to the pencil pusher. And oh… the pieces clicked into place. Autumn had mentioned a sister, who lived by him. This was her? Sister and cute mom were one and the same? Maybe she hadn’t been checking him out when he’d run by. Maybe she had been taking notes and reporting back to Autumn. His self-esteem slumped off to lick its wounds.
The woman peered at him. “You don’t look like Adam.”
And… who was Adam? He had never experienced jealousy with Nicola, but it suddenly barreled into this situation, ears pricked and guns holstered.
“Adam’s in love with his ex-girlfriend,” Autumn tossed over her shoulder as she put down the blonde child. “This is Declan. I mean, I know you know who he is, but it feels like we are crazy people if we act like you know who he is.”
“Right.” The woman’s grin widened as she met Declan’s eyes. “Because, obviously, we aren’t crazy.”
“I’m Paige!” The young girl stepped forward, somberly sticking out her hand while sporting a one-tooth-missing grin.
He bent at the waist and shook her hand. She let go and skipped past him, yanking open the front door and swooping into the house. He glanced at the boy, who hid behind his mother’s leg.
“This is Caleb,” the woman offered. “And I’m Ansley, Autumn’s sister.” Hypothesis confirmed, though his confusion was still at nuclear levels.
“There are STRANGERS in your house!” Paige reappeared in the front door, alarm on her face. “Three STRANGERS!”
For shit’s sake. This was a three-ring circus. Autumn waved her inside. “They’re safe. Just ignore them and take Mr. Oinks outside. Help him find his ball. You too, Caleb.”
The little boy sprinted past Declan as if he was the boogie man, leaving his mother standing on the step. Ansley folded her arms across her chest, a knowing expression tugging at her mouth as she glanced between him and Autumn. “So… this is an interesting course of events.”
“Super interesting,” Autumn agreed. “Turns out, Declan is absolutely cool with me protecting him, and we are ramping up security protocols to improve his safety.” She turned on one foot, breezing past him and into the house, his attempt to catch her arm easily thwarted with a move that could have earned her a Heisman.
He followed her into the house, the screen door almost slapping him in the face. “We need to discuss this. I don’t know what you’re talking about, but there’s no way any of these guys”—he nodded to the suits who were still in their place around the table—“are following me around.”
Autumn stopped on her way to the kitchen and turned, peering up at him. “You said I could.”
“I strongly disagree with that statement.”
“You were a little sleepy.” She shrugged. “But you did, you told me I could hire these guys, and now I have so….” She smiled sweetly up at him.
He narrowed his eyes, her eyelashes literally batting at him. “You can’t do that. I can’t”—he lowered his voice—“I can’t afford them.”
“Oh!” She waved a hand in the air. “I’m paying for them. Don’t worry about that.” She dismissed the costs of three armed guards as if she was covering his hamburger at a fast food joint.
He glanced at the security and stepped closer to her, resisting the urge to cup her waist and drag her against him. “I don’t think you can protect someone against their will. If I don’t want them following me, they can’t follow me.”
“Ah, but that statement flies directly in the face of her full-time job,” Ansley butted in, her voice sing-songy as she waltzed past them and into the kitchen, pulling a gallon of milk out of the fridge.
“Look how quiet they are,” Autumn pointed out. “It’s like they aren’t even here!”
Declan gritted his teeth. “I’m going to say it one more time, and then I’m going to walk out of here. I don’t know what I told you last night, after whatever voodoo magic your body unleashed, but I’m not having a bodyguard. And I’m not sharing my schedule or notifying you of travel arrangements.” He pointed to the trio of men. “If I see any of you anywhere near me, I’m calling the police.”
He stepped back and Autumn’s face fell in disappointment. “But…”
Before she had the chance to say another word, or bat those big eyes, or seduce his mind into signing over his entire life, he stormed out the front door and got into his truck, leaving all of the crazy behind.
23
I sent the gentlemen from Met Security on their way with a plate of brownies, mucho apologies, and a voided contract. They let me keep my deposit, which was a nice gesture, especially considering the early Saturday house call. Ansley didn’t let me off the hook as easily.
“Voodoo Magic your body is unleashing? This I need to hear. Now, sit. Drink. Talk.” She pushed a hot cup of coffee toward me and took the closest stool. From the backyard, Paige and Caleb tore back into the house, chased by Mr. Oinks. Ansley pointed to the living room without turning her head. “Watch cartoons,” she called out.
“Nickelodeon?” Paige called out.
“Sure. Whatever.”
“Easy. That’s a slippery slope to a life of crime.” I widened my eyes theatrically. Paige’s ban of SpongeBob was completely unfounded, and a rule I broke with wild abandon every time I babysat her kids.
“Shut up and talk. Please tell me he made passionate love to you all night long.” She clasped her hands in front of her as if in prayer.
“Yes.” I lifted the coffee cup and took a tentative sip. It wasn’t bad. Too much sugar, but I could deal with that.
“NO,” she gasped, covering her mouth with one
Alex & Ani-laden hand.
“YES,” I whispered, hiding my grin behind another sip of the coffee. “But that’s all over now.”
“All over,” she said slowly. “Why is it all over?”
“Well, you saw his dramatic exit, in which he threatened to call the cops.” I listed the first hurdle off with my thumb, then moved on to my index finger. “Then the bigger issue, which is that I am not here to have wild and delicious sex with Declan Moss.”
“You’re not?”
“No. I’m here to protect him.” It’s like she doesn’t understand what mortal danger is. A PLANE almost smote him. It took out a Toyota Highlander. There was a mailbox who never got to say goodbye to its family. Half a house that was pulverized in the explosion. Everyone was just tossing this humongous event aside as if it was a fender bender in the Publix shopping center.
“Oh, God.” Ansley rolled her eyes. “Have you ever thought that this is the universe pushing you two together? Just ignore your ridiculous idea of premonitions and mortal dangers and embrace the fact that a real live man spent last night in your bed.”
I groaned, wilting sideways on the stool. “And oh my God, it was so good. Ansley... he…” I tried to find the words to describe the event.
“Was talented?”
“Beyond talented. Could be a gigolo in his spare time.”
She slid the coffee creamer in between us and looked down at it suggestively. “Would you say he’s built like a gigolo also?” She ran her hand up the height of the jug in a way that made her meaning perfectly clear.
I knocked her hand off the container before she started jacking it off. “I don’t want to ruin your day with a detailed description of how gorgeous his coffee creamer was. Just know that keeping him safe has become a lot harder to do.” I pulled open the fridge and stuck the creamer on the shelf.
“Oh, a lady? That’s what you are?” Ansley scoffed, giving an exaggerated nod. “Good to know. Alright, penis size aside, just tell me. Was it just sex or was there emotion in it?”
Of course, my sister would ask the one question I didn’t want to ask myself. I scratched an itchy place on my scalp. “I don’t think two strangers can have emotions between them.”
“He’s not a stranger to you,” she pointed out. “You’ve known him, in some way shape or form, for … what, three months now?”
“Six,” I corrected her. “It was right after Mom.” Died. I couldn’t say it, but didn’t need to. I straddled the stool and picked up my coffee.
“Right.” Her voice softened. “So… six months. I’ve never asked you, because you’re so damn business-like about the entire thing, but don't you think you’ve developed some feelings for him during that time?”
“No!” I pshawed the idea, blowing on the top of my coffee in an off-hand gesture that completely hid the windmill of thoughts that churned around my skull.
I hadn’t developed feelings for Declan. Not when I saw him drop off a bagel every morning for the homeless woman who sleeps behind the downtown bus stop. Not when I saw him play basketball with Ansley’s neighborhood kids. And not when I watched him laugh, his eyes crinkling, teeth showing, dimple popping. Or when he worked over lunch, his glasses on, pen scratching across a pad of paper, handsome brow furrowed.
I had not developed any feelings whatsoever for Declan Moss. And those non-existent feelings had definitely not deepened by having his eyes soften when they’d roamed over my body. My professional composure hadn’t cracked when he’d whispered my name across my skin, his lips skimming, breath tickling. I hadn’t fallen even a little bit when he’d been inside of me, his mouth on mine, the warm weight of his naked body above me.
“It’s okay if you like him,” Ansley said gently.
“I don’t.” I shook my head emphatically and she gave me a look, the sort of one she used to give me when I ate all the ice cream and then lied about it. But the truth was, it didn’t matter if I liked Declan Moss. It was irrelevant. Declan Moss may have given me the best sex of my life, but I wasn’t going to stack orgasms and tingly kisses on top of a man’s safety and well-being. End of discussion. Goodbye, toe-curling ecstasy. Hello, binoculars and portable first aid kit.
“And he doesn’t like you?” Ansley scooted her stool closer to the counter and pried open the foil on the plate of remaining brownies.
I ignored her question, moving back through Declan’s last words, directed at the bodyguards. “If I see any of you anywhere near me, I’m calling the police.” Maybe it had been a little too sudden of me, to call the security company and conduct interviews. I’d just gotten excited at the prospect of bringing in professionals, men with guns, advanced surveillance, and those cool little ear mics.
Ansley broke one chocolatey square in half, offering it to me. I dipped it into the coffee and took a small bite, trying to find a new angle to approach him with. Something to do sober, with my clothes on, all professional-like.
“Let’s talk about damage control.” Ansley tapped the counter in front of me to catch my attention.
“Okay.” I pulled my hair into a high ponytail. “Damage control. How do I do that?”
“I think you should give him some time,” Ansley suggested. “You’ve just freaked him out a little. I mean”—she gestured to the bare spot where the bodyguards had previously stood—“I don’t know why you thought inviting three Dwayne Johnson lookalikes to a post-sex breakfast was a good idea, but I can go out on a limb and say that he probably thinks you’re insane. Especially if you told him the reason you’re following him.”
I considered her advice. It was pretty solid. I could give him a few days. Let him cool off, then approach him with an organized proposal, the start of a negotiation, one where I’d wow him with my PowerPoint skills and he’d turn over full access to his life, or at least his calendar. And I could drop the idea of bodyguards for now. That request came from an ego inflated on post-coitus bliss, encouraged by his easy acceptance of my other requests. In hindsight, maybe I should have made sure he was fully awake.
“So, I should leave him alone.” I tested the idea aloud. “For a few days.”
“YES.” She smiled, and she had dots of chocolate in her teeth. “Just forget about him for a little bit. Let him come back to you. Trust me, he will. And in the meantime, maybe you can find a new focus for your life. Something that doesn’t involve this gorgeously virile man who you have absolutely no attraction for.”
“I’m working on a scrapbook for Mrs. Robchek,” I pointed out. “A new one.”
“Awesome,” she said dryly. “Anything else?”
I fell silent, my life pretty empty once you pulled out Mrs. Robchek’s latest keepsake. My backyard had never looked more beautiful, the damn thing behaving perfectly with only an hour or two of work per week. I was considering ripping out the front planters just to give myself something to do. “Maybe I’ll go back to—”
“You’re not going back to school,” she interrupted. “You’ve graduated from that damn school twice now. The only thing you’re learning is how to throw money away on useless degrees.”
I made a face at her, twisting in my seat to avoid the sight of the framed diplomas, hung neatly beside my fridge. My mind flitted back to Dr. E’s recent suggestion that I start a business. I had wasted a lot of time thinking over what I might do, but short of starting a pig rescue farm, I was drawing a blank.
“And when’s the last time that Mrs. Robchek paid you?” Her chocolate teeth situation was getting worse, but interrupting her to point it out would have been rude. Better to let her waltz off to Trader Joe’s with a muddy smile, since she had so much nitpicking on her plate. I ran my hand over the granite island top and wondered if they were still running the special on mangoes. If they were, I’d have her pick me up some. A mango and strawberry salad sounded scrumptious.
“Huh?” She reached over and poked me.
“Mrs. Robchek’s on a limited budget,” I defended the poor old woman.
“Then she need
s to stop ordering scrapbooks for her dog. There aren’t that many events that need chronologizing in a dog’s life. And speaking of which…” she glared at me. “I haven’t even gotten a scrapbook for Caleb yet. And he’s THREE.”
“I’m working on Caleb’s book,” I promised. “It’s going to be fabulous.” Talk about demanding clients who didn’t pay. At least Mrs. Robchek walked Mittens and Morkie past Declan’s house three times a day and gave me updates. With that sort of intel, who needed timely payments?
She stood up and stretched, her body twisting left and right as she attempted to pop her back. “Don’t forget, we’re going to the fair next weekend.”
I nodded, stealing the remainder of her brownies.
“There’s still an open invitation for you to come. You can ride the Gravitron and barf on teenagers.”
“As delightful as that sounds, I think I’ll pass.”
“Whatever.” She shrugged, and lifted her bag over her shoulder. “I’m headed to get groceries. Want to come?”
I mused over the idea of staying, stretching out on the couch with Mr. Oinks and watching Squidward giving Spongebob the business. Instead, I pulled a paper towel off the roll and passed it to her. “Sure. And here. You’ve got brownie all over your teeth.”
24
The day of the plane crash had started with a dick. One in full color and high resolution in the text messages of Nicola’s phone. Declan had stared at the image, unable to comprehend what it meant. His eyes had slowly dragged up to the text that had preceded the image.
Still hungry? I got something for you…
The dick pic came from a sender named Brittany Gym, which was equally puzzling, until he realized that Brittany was a code name, and whoever had sent the photo had clearly screwed his girlfriend, and on multiple occasions. He scrolled back through the text history, his anger growing with each one. By the time he got to the earliest text, one three months old, he’d wanted to rip the phone in half and climb a hundred-story building, just to chuck it off the roof.
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