And Ricky hadn’t been parked out front, so Gage was counting the night as a win.
Now he just needed to figure out how to move out of bodyguard territory and into the boyfriend zone.
Chapter Seven
Sheryl’s fingers ached after holding the rope so tight while Javier drove stakes into the ground so they could straighten this row of trees. The winds coming off the water could be murder, and these four-year-old trees needed some support to help them grow straight and tall. That was, if Mother Nature didn’t send a hurricane to wipe them all out.
“Almost got it,” he said, taking the rope from her and pulling it even further. How he did that, she wasn’t sure. She thought she was strong—and she knew she was. It took muscles to lug around bags of gravel and bark, bend and squat and dig and prune.
She loved every minute of it—except when her fingers hurt like this. Her mother had arthritis, and Sheryl suspected she probably did too. With how much she used her hands during the day, it wouldn’t be surprising.
“Okay,” she said, exhaling as she looked down the sidewalk. “Only seventy more.”
Javier laughed, and Sheryl smiled. There weren’t seventy more trees to do. It just felt like it. “How’s Melinda?” she asked as they moved down to the next tree.
“She’s doing okay,” Javier said. He’d been with The Heartwood Inn grounds crew for as long as Sheryl could remember. She’d thrown a wedding shower and then a baby shower for his wife, and their first baby was due any day now. “She’s taken to walking morning and night, trying to induce labor.”
“Does that really work?” Sheryl asked.
“Obviously not.” Javier flashed her a grin. “I’m still okay to have time off when the baby does come, right?”
“Of course,” Sheryl said. She had an entire temporary crew lined up to prepare the beach for the upcoming surfing championship. She could get whoever she needed to stay on while Javier was gone. “You’re missing the best part of the year, though.”
“You’re such a liar.” He ran his hands up the tree trunk, and Sheryl felt his love for the tree. She felt the same way, and she’d always been comfortable and at home caring for plants, flowers, trees, and shrubs. “Raking the beach is the worst time of the year.”
“Oh, come on,” she said. “You’re telling me you’re going to miss the banana split party we have when it’s finally done?” She handed out bonuses during that party too. She knew raking and landscaping sand that would just get destroyed once all the spectators showed up was a torturous job.
She paid well, and she never had a problem getting extra men on the crew. She always gave out a little extra cash upon completion to everyone, and some got more than a little. They had prizes and contests, Sheryl worked as hard as her crew did.
“Can I come to the banana split party and just skip the raking?”
“I think I might have a mutiny on my hands if you did that.” Sheryl pulled the rope again, and Javier sized up where to put the stake.
“Well, let’s hope the baby comes after the surfing competition then,” he said. “I do like the banana split party.”
“I knew it.”
“And you should come to dinner soon,” he said. “Melinda is in full nesting mode, and she cooks all day long.”
“Maybe she’s trying to entice your son out with the scent of good Mexican food.”
Javier laughed, the sound filling this quiet patch of the resort. “Maybe. That doesn’t seem to be working either, but I’m eating well.”
“What’s she making tonight?” Sheryl wondered if she could take Gage. How would she introduce him? He’d talked about kissing again last night, but they hadn’t done that. After they’d left the bonfire, things between them had turned strained, though he’d managed to lighten the evening with talk of fairies, of all things.
He was an enigma to her. Sometimes he could be the kindest, most charming man she’d ever met. And sometimes he was simply annoying. Rough around the edges. Tactless. He was handsome, though, and strong, and sexy, and she liked that he had a past she didn’t know about yet.
It was that past that hid the true man underneath that kept her interest and kept her from writing him off completely, though he did rub her the wrong way at least fifty percent of the time.
“Sopapillas,” Javier said.
“Isn’t that a dessert?”
“I didn’t hear the main dish,” he said, taking the rope from her. She shook out her hands as he leaned his weight into the rope and secured it to the stake. “Once she said sopapillas, I stopped listening.”
“You’re terrible,” she said with a laugh.
He laughed too, noticing how she rotated her wrists. “You okay?”
“Fine.” She smiled at him. “And I think I will come tonight, if I can bring a…friend.”
Javier’s whole face lit up. “A friend? What kind of friend?”
“Oh, don’t get excited,” Sheryl said, instantly regretting that she’d said anything. “He’s actually my bodyguard. Ricky’s been following me around the island.”
A storm crossed her friend’s face. “Ricky Van Nuy? What a loser.” He took off his work gloves and pulled out his phone. “Want me to talk to him?”
“No,” she said. “I’ve already taken care of it.” When he looked doubtful, she said, “Really. So use that thing to text Melinda and say I’ll be there with my bodyguard, Gage.”
“Gage Sanders?”
“You know him?”
“Sure,” Javier said, focusing on his phone. “My dad’s used him for security a couple of times at the water park.” His family owned the park here on the island, and they hosted four huge concerts every year that Sheryl assumed they probably needed extra security for. “Nice guy.”
“Is he?” Sheryl cocked her head and watched as Javier finished his text.
“You don’t think so?” He looked at her, searching for something Sheryl was sure he’d find. Gage had said she wore everything on her face.
She looked away quickly. “I mean, he’s got quite the bark.”
“Bark is good for a security guard,” he said. “And a bodyguard.”
“True,” she said, turning away to get another length of rope. This conversation needed to end, right now. Because Javier was absolutely right. Gage’s loud bark was extremely good for a bodyguard—just not for a boyfriend.
Sheryl finished with the trees. Finished her paperwork. Finished her work for the day completely. She needed to stop by Olympia’s office to give her an update—and find out what was going on with her and the delicious drink of water she’d been with last night.
So she washed up and made sure she didn’t have a piece of errant bark in her hair before going upstairs to her sister’s office. She didn’t bother to knock as she opened the door, and she found her sister sitting at her desk, a bowl of salad in front of her. Typical Olympia. Eating lunch at almost two o’clock in the afternoon.
“Oh, hey,” she said, mixing in her pine nuts, goat cheese, and cherry tomatoes. “What’s up?”
“I wanted to talk to you for a minute.” Sheryl sighed as she sat in the chair across from Olympia. Her body hurt, and she might have to concede and take some pain medication.
“How was the bonfire last night?” Olympia asked, taking a bite of her salad.
Sheryl didn’t want to talk about the bonfire. Not really. “It was fun.” Her voice sounded false, even to her.
Olympia swallowed, her expression turning stern and older-sisterly. “I saw you holding Gage’s hand.”
“Yeah, well.” Sheryl shrugged, heat crawling up her neck. Things had gone well at the bonfire. It was after that they’d turned south. “He thinks it’ll keep Ricky further away, but it doesn’t seem to be working.”
“No? I think it’s working with something, Sher.” She lifted her eyebrows, a wicked grin forming on her face.
Sheryl shook her head. “He’s my bodyguard, not my boyfriend.” She wondered how many times she’d have to make
that defense.
“Yeah, maybe you should practice saying that with more conviction,” Olympia teased. “And maybe tell him, so he stops holding your hand in public.” She took another bite of her salad as Sheryl started laughing. She really hadn’t said the words with much conviction.
“He’s kind of…overbearing,” she said, thinking maybe this could be a conversation about how to be in a relationship instead of an update on her stalker.
Olympia set her salad aside, the conversation turning real. “But you still like him.” She wasn’t asking, and Sheryl appreciated that her sister would take time from her crazy schedule to talk to her about a personal matter. Olympia always had, though.
“Maybe,” Sheryl said, confused about how she felt about Gage. Why couldn’t he just be Prince Charming and sweep her off her feet? “I don’t know.”
“Where’d you find him?”
“He came highly recommended,” Sheryl said. “He’s worked private security for events on the island for a couple years. I called him, and he was available in the evenings.”
“I bet he was.” Olympia grinned in a wicked way. “Did you send him your picture before he accepted the job?”
Sheryl rolled her eyes, now ready to leave the office. Gage would be here any minute anyway. “No, I did not.”
“Did you get his picture? Because I bet you think he’s gorgeous.”
Sheryl did think he was gorgeous, but she didn’t want to admit it. So she shrugged one shoulder and said, “Maybe.”
“Oh, but he’s your bodyguard,” Olympia teased. “And he’s kind of annoying.”
“He’s been taking me home for a couple of nights,” Sheryl said. “I barely know him.”
“Does he stay over?”
“No,” Sheryl said. “Ricky’s sort of backed off.”
“Tell me about this Ricky. We employed him?”
“For a few weeks,” Sheryl said, somewhat relieved to be back on topic. She felt whiplashed all over the place. First, she wanted to talk about Gage. Then she didn’t. “His name is Ricky—Rick—Richard Van Nuy. He said he was working on a water main for the Oscarson’s. That was why he was parked outside my cottage.”
Olympia frowned and picked a nut off her salad. “But they live quite a bit down the road.”
“I know. He said the water line was right on the edge of our property.”
“And is it?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t see it, and Gage said Ricky didn’t know what he was doing.” Sheryl sat back in her chair. “Anyway, I just came to update you on that. And to ask you about Chet. Did you figure out what you are?”
Olympia went mute, clearly inside her own mind. “Not really,” she said, but Sheryl started laughing before she’d even finished speaking.
“I can see it in your face, sis,” she said. “You kissed him.”
Olympia looked like she’d swallowed the most delicious treat in the world. “Maybe.”
“Good for you. It’s been way too long since you’ve been out with someone.” Sheryl knew what Olympia had been through. She’d had her own version of a man cheating on her, though it wasn’t nearly to the same degree as Olympia. Still, she knew that wounds like that took a very long time to heal, and the simplest of things could reopen them.
“I know,” she said. “We’re…he’s going to work for the inn next week during the surfing competition. I’m getting to know him. That’s what we are.”
“And you get to kiss him good-night,” Sheryl said. “Sounds like a sweet set-up.” And she suddenly wanted that set-up too. A bodyguard-slash-boyfriend who picked her up from work and kissed her goodnight.
“Yeah.” Olympia pulled her lunch back in front of her and glanced at her laptop, code for I need to get back to work.
“Okay, well, I’m going to go home,” Sheryl said. “Gage should be here any minute. He works the ferry in the morning.”
“Oh, wow. Those start running at six.”
“Yeah, he’s ex-military. Says he doesn’t need as much sleep as normal humans.” Sheryl laughed, because Gage didn’t seem to do anything the same as normal humans.
Olympia smiled, got up, and gave her a hug. “If you like him, honey, he could be your bodyguard and your boyfriend.”
“Jury’s still out,” she said, her phone chiming. As she checked it, everything happy inside her died, replaced with only annoyance. “See? Look at this text. What am I supposed to get from that?”
She gave the phone to Olympia so she could see what Gage had said. Are you ready? I’ve been here for five minutes and don’t see you. Want to go to lunch?
“Is he annoyed with me?” she asked. “Because I’m not standing on the curb the moment he pulls up? Like, I don’t need that in my life.”
She didn’t want to be bossed around. She ran a grounds crew of sixty-four people. Maybe she didn’t get done with work right at two o’clock, right on the dot.
“I think he’s asking you to lunch?” Olympia handed the phone back. “Maybe he’s just saying he’s here, and he’s been watching for you, and he wants to take you to lunch.”
“Maybe.” Sheryl headed for the door, frustrated. “I’ll text you later.” She opened the door to find the cause of her irritation standing in the hall. “Oh. Gage. I’m coming.” Jeez. He’d come looking for her? What next? He’d go into the bathroom with her?
She stepped past him, not willing to snipe at him in front of Olympia, but there was a storm brewing her chest, and he better watch out.
Chapter Eight
Gage waved to Olympia and turned to follow Sheryl down the hall. “I just hadn’t heard from you.”
“I was talking to my sister,” Sheryl said. “I literally just got your text. Yes, I’m hungry. We can go to lunch.”
Gage had a hard time keeping up with her, that blonde ponytail swaying violently as she marched away from him. So she was angry. Well, so was he. He jogged the last few steps to the door that led back down to the lower level of the inn, where her office was.
“Ricky is down there.” He put his palm on the door so she couldn’t pull it open. Her eyes finally looked up and into his, but she didn’t look like the scared rabbit she’d been last night.
“Well, let’s go see what he wants,” she said.
Surprise arched his eyebrows. “Is that what you want to do?”
“You’re the one who said I can’t run away from him every time he shows his face.”
“That’s not exactly what I said.”
“Move, Gage.”
“Why are you so upset?”
She shook her phone at him. “You made it sound like waiting five minutes for me was a horrible crime against humanity.” Her fury stormed across her face, but she was still drop-dead gorgeous. Maybe more so because of it.
Gage wanted to quip right back at her, but he drew in a slow breath first. “I thought you might have locked yourself in your office, Sheryl,” he said, slowly and without any emotion whatsoever. “So I was a little worried. That’s all.”
The wind that had gotten her all bunched up deflated, and her shoulders slumped. “Is he really down there?”
“He really is.” Gage removed his hand from the door. “And if you want to go talk to him, I’ll go with you. But then I really do want to go to lunch. All the food trucks are going to South Port today.”
Gage loved a good food truck. And he loved the vibe at South Port, where murals lined the storm surge walls with messages of hope and love for those who’d lost their lives in previous hurricanes and gales.
Sheryl frowned. “South Port?”
“Do you not grace the southern part of the island with your presence?” As soon as the words left his mouth, Gage knew he’d made a huge mistake. “Sorry,” he said. “That was rude. Let’s go talk to Ricky.”
“And to think I was going to invite you to go to dinner with some friends of mine tonight.” Sheryl yanked open the door, practically hitting him in the face.
He opened his mouth to retort, but
nothing came out. “Wait. What?” But she was gone already, off to face Ricky alone, absolute anger in her footsteps flying down the steps. He hurried after her, though in that moment, he had no doubt that Sheryl Heartwood could take care of herself.
She was only a few paces ahead of him when he came out of the stairwell, and Ricky had stood from the chair he’d been waiting on.
“What are you doing here?” she demanded, her fingers curled into fists. “You’re not allowed on the property, and I know you were following me on your bike the other day.”
He was? Why hadn’t Gage heard about that?
She came to a stop, and he went to her side, watching Ricky for any signs of sudden movement.
“I just wanted to talk to you,” Ricky said, his eyes pleading when he looked at Sheryl. They turned hard when they moved to Gage. “Alone. Without your muscle.”
“I’m not her muscle,” Gage said. “She can take care of herself.” He reached over and slid his hand around hers, working to uncurl those fingers. “She’s my girlfriend. There’s a difference.”
Sheryl looked at him, searching for something. But he wasn’t going to give her the answer right then. He’d dealt with men like Ricky before, and the best thing to do was stick to one idea. Never let the other person see how he felt.
“She told you no, man. More than once.”
Ricky frowned, his eyes sparking with danger. He looked back at Sheryl. “I can’t believe this meathead is your type.”
Gage drew in a breath through his nose. He wasn’t a meathead just because he’d served in the military instead of going to college. He didn’t even frequent the gym that much, because six a.m. came early enough as it was.
“More so than you,” she said, finally slipping her fingers through his. She squeezed, and Gage thought it might be more about her anger than her need for him. “Ricky, just go. Leave me alone. If you keep doing things like this, the police said I can have you brought in for questioning, and then I can get a restraining order.”
Bodyguard, Not Boyfriend Page 5
