She spoke in a less-than-angry voice, and Gage knew she didn’t want all the hassle. Ricky stared at her for another few seconds, the tension drawing taut between them. “All right,” he finally said. “You can call off the dog then.” He threw Gage a dark look and turned to go.
Sheryl waited until the metal door closed behind Ricky, and then she wrenched her hand out of his. “Dog? What have you been doing?”
“Nothing,” Gage said.
“He said I needed to call you off. Have you been bothering him?”
“No,” Gage said. “I may have sent a patrol car by his place this morning. It was nothing.”
Sheryl glared at him. “I can’t believe you.”
“Me?” he asked. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”
She went into her office and came back out with her purse. “I’d like to go home now.”
“No lunch?”
“I don’t feel like eating,” she said.
“Who was dinner with tonight?” He moved in front of the door so she couldn’t storm away from him again.
“Someone who works here with me,” she said, refusing to look at him. The way she stared over his shoulder was unnerving and annoying. “His wife is about to have a baby, and she’s an excellent cook.”
Gage wanted to fix whatever had snapped between them. Last night, he’d said some stupid thing about fairies. Today, he had nothing. So he said, “Sheryl, I’m sorry. Okay?” He stepped forward and put his hand under her chin, guiding her gaze to his. “I’m sorry. I thought you wanted help with Ricky. I thought you might be in your office while he kept you there by being in that chair.”
“And South Port?”
“I didn’t think,” Gage said.
“Because I go to South Port,” she said, lifting that chin so his fingers didn’t touch her skin anymore.
“I believe you.” Though, he didn’t really. South Port was in a seedier part of the island, and not many tourists went down there either. The only thing to see was the murals and the beach, but there were many more miles of better beach along the southeast, eastern, and northern parts of the island.
“It’s okay,” he said. “I’ll take you home, and you can decide about dinner. I’d like to go meet your friends.” She hadn’t said much about them, spending most of her time talking about her family. He turned and opened the door, stepping back to hold it open for her.
She kept her eyes on his as she passed, finally looking forward when she stepped outside. She got behind the wheel of her car while he mounted up on the bike. He didn’t know what to think. Had he blown his shot of ever being more than “her muscle” or “her dog” because he’d said something rude about South Port?
Sheryl seemed to be able to forgive easily, and she felt things deeply. Maybe she just needed some time to get over what he’d said. And you need to think before you speak, he told himself as he followed her out of the parking lot and up the street toward her cottage.
The ten minute drive to her house passed quickly, with the sun beating down on the island and the wind barely a visitor that day. He got off his motorcycle and went with her up to the door. “I’m sorry again,” he said. “Really. I’ll have my phone with me, so text me if you want me to come back and go to dinner with you.”
“I don’t need to text you,” she said, turning into him. Only a couple of feet separated them, but it felt like miles to Gage. He couldn’t look anywhere but into her eyes, and she couldn’t seem to look away from him either.
Hesitantly, she reached up and cradled his face in the palm of her hand. “Javier said we can come at six.”
Joy burst through Gage, causing a smile to form on his mouth. “Great,” he said. “Do you want me to stay now? Or I can come back. I don’t think Ricky will bother you anymore.”
“Really? You believed him?”
“I honestly have no idea what to believe,” Gage said. And thinking was so very hard with her hand still holding his face.
“Go get something for lunch at the food trucks,” she said. “And then come back. But be warned. Melinda Garcia makes a mean sopapilla, and the spread of food there tonight will be epic.”
“So don’t eat too much now,” he said, translating for her.
“Right.” With that, Sheryl tipped up onto her toes, swept her lips across his other cheek, and darted into her house.
Gage stood on the porch, staring at whatever was in front of him. What in the world had just happened?
“She’s hot and cold,” he muttered to himself as he turned to look at the closed door, and then spun to walk down the steps to his bike. Truth was, he ran hot and cold too. A sentence could trigger him, and then he’d be angry. Sheryl seemed to be made of the same stuff, while he’d thought her to be his opposite before.
Thinking about it all just made him more confused, and he pushed every thought away as he put on his helmet. He just needed to ride. Let the wind and the birds at South Port tell him what to do.
So he set his bike north to go around the island the long way, and he just enjoyed the ride.
South Port buzzed with energy, and Gage got a footlong with extra spicy brown mustard—his favorite lunch. He found a bench in the shade and sat down to enjoy the surf coming in. The wind. The birds. The people. The scent of something fried. He liked it all. He thought he might like it more with Sheryl beside him, but he wouldn’t be asking her to come to the food truck rally at South Port again.
His phone rang, and he glanced at the number. “Michael.” He hadn’t heard from his brother in a couple of weeks, so he swiped on the call and set aside his hot dog. “Hey, bro.”
“Gage.” Michael laughed. “It’s good to hear your voice.”
“Yeah? Where you at?”
“Oh, I’m still home,” he said. “Got a job with the cable company for now. Marie and Maggie want you to come visit.”
“Right.” Gage scoffed. “Your wife and daughter want me to come?” He couldn’t go, not without asking for a lot of time off. He could get to Peach Tree in a day, but then it was a day back, and if he stayed for only a day, that was three days of work. Almost a week.
Fine, not a week, but Gage hated going home.
Michael chuckled. “I’m actually thinking we need a vacation on the beach, and you live on Carter’s Cove.”
“Sure, come on over,” he said. “The island is full of people right now, but it’s a great place to spend a day on the beach.” Or a week, as most families did.
“Okay,” Michael said. “It’s just me who needs a vacation on the beach.”
Gage sat up straighter and glanced around like there might be someone eavesdropping on him. “Mike? What’s going on? Give it to me straight.”
“Marie asked me to leave for a little while,” he said. “And I need somewhere to stay.”
“Leave?”
“Move out,” he clarified.
Gage blinked, unsure of what to say to his little brother. “I’m sorry. Yeah, uh, yeah. You can come stay with me. Tell me all about it.”
“Okay.” Michael sighed. “Wow, making this call sucked as hard as I thought it would.” He laughed, but there was no joy in the sound. “Can I come tomorrow?”
“Sure,” Gage said. “Of course.”
“You still working the ferry in the morning?”
“Yes,” Gage said. “But you stop by any time you want. Britta will be there, and I’ll be home just after one.” They continued making plans, and Gage hung up. His hot dog had long gone cold, and he didn’t have an appetite for it anyway.
His brother was separating from his wife. “So strange,” he muttered to the sea in front of him. Michael and Marie had always been rock-solid. Maggie, Gage’s niece, was seven years old, and she adored her father. Gage had never seen a family so strong.
If they couldn’t make things work, how could Gage ever expect to have a meaningful, lasting relationship?
Heck, he couldn’t even send the right text to the woman he wanted.
Chapter Nine
Sheryl changed out of her dirty clothes and showered before she collapsed into bed. Her thoughts revolved around Gage, and several minutes passed before she was able to drift off to sleep.
Problem was, the man starred in her dreams too, and he was always the thoughtful, vulnerable, apologetic man she’d seen a few times now. When she woke, the shadows coming through the windows fell in long slants, and she knew she was late. She also remembered how brash and blunt Gage could be, and it seemed like she’d constantly be at war with herself about the man who’d come suddenly into her life.
She stood, a sigh leaking from her body. A dog barked, and she yelped as her bedroom door wasn’t even closed. But that dog bark meant Gage was in her house with Britta.
Sure enough, a moment later, the great big mutt came trotting through the doorway, and Sheryl wanted to bend down and pat her. But she wasn’t dressed, so she scampered into her bathroom first, saying, “Just a second, Britta.”
Thankfully, she didn’t hear Gage at all, and she managed to pull on the appropriate clothing before heading out into the living room. Gage was just sitting up, his eyes still half-closed as he wiped his big hands down his face.
Britta barked again, and he said, “Shush, dog,” in a surly tone.
“It’s time to get up, sleepyhead,” she said as if she herself hadn’t just woken up.
“Oh, hey,” he said, quickly standing. “I didn’t meant to fall asleep. There’s just something…comfortable about your place.” He flinched. “I mean your house. Your couch. It’s a comfortable couch.” He patted it as if it were a dog, and Sheryl looked at him, trying to figure out what he was saying.
He cleared his throat. “When do we need to go?” He bent to pick up his phone. “Oh, looks like right now.”
“I just need to finish getting ready,” she said, though her stick-straight hair would hardly take any time at all and she never wore a lot of makeup. “I just thought I heard Britta, so I came to see if you were here too.”
“I’m here too.” His eyes met hers, and the moment turned scalding hot.
“What did you have for lunch?” she asked, the words barely making it out of her throat.
“Footlong,” he said. “It’s one of my favorite foods.”
That got her to laugh. “Of course it is. You have the diet of a twelve-year-old boy.”
“Hey, it’s working well enough so far,” he said with a grin, and this was the man Sheryl really liked. The one who smiled and teased and flirted. She liked Gage when he was himself, not Gage when he was a bodyguard.
You should fire him, she told herself. Ask him out instead. Startled by the idea, she turned back to her bedroom and said, “I’ll be right out.” She hurried through her makeup, hair, and jewelry, returning to the living room in under ten minutes.
The back door stood open, and she heard Gage whistle for Britta. They came in together, the dog coming over for a real rub down this time. Sheryl laughed as she ran her hands along the dog’s back, as Britta wove between her legs like a cat, nearly knocking her off her feet.
“Britt, come on,” Gage said, and the dog trotted over to him. “Can I leave her here?”
“Sure,” Sheryl said.
“Let me just get her some water.” He started opening cupboards, a panicked look on his face quickly forming.
Sheryl giggled and hipped him out of her kitchen. “I’ll get her some water.”
“I can do it.”
“I’m sure you can.” But Sheryl pulled out a big, plastic mixing bowl and filled it with cold water while Gage stood there and watched her. “There you go, Britty baby.”
“Oh-ho.” Gage chortled, and Sheryl grinned at him.
“Okay,” she said. “Let’s go. I’ll text Javier that we’re just leaving.”
Gage slipped his hand into hers as they went out the front door, leaving Britta to slurp her water happily in the kitchen. Sheryl got her own helmet latched this time, and the backs of her thighs burned a little against the black leather seat on his motorcycle. But there was nowhere else she’d rather be, so she wrapped her arms around him and said, “Ready.”
Twenty minutes later, they pulled up to Javier’s house, which was only ten minutes from Sheryl’s. “I don’t like yelling directions from behind you,” she said as she took off her helmet.
“Yeah, that wasn’t ideal.” He put their helmets in the saddlebag and looked toward the house. “So how are things going tonight?”
“Things?”
“Yeah,” he said. “Am I holding your hand? Not holding your hand? How are you going to introduce me?”
Sheryl liked that Gage asked hard questions, seemingly without any embarrassment. She liked the tousled look of his hair, the way he took care of details like watering his dog and stowing the helmets out of sight.
“I don’t know yet,” she said. “I guess we’ll find out.” The front door opened just as she finished talking, and she started walking that way. “Hey, Melinda. Oh, my holy stars in heaven. You look like you’re going to pop.”
And she so did. Sheryl practically ran up the sidewalk and steps and put her hand on Melinda’s elbow, because there was no way the woman could balance as front-heavy as she was. Sheryl had dealt with quite a lot of jealousy over the years as her friends got married one by one, moved on from their single lives, and started families.
The green-eyed monster reared its ugly head again, but she covered over the feelings with a smile. Melinda was older than her, and this was her and Javier’s first child. Not everything had to be accomplished by age thirty. And Sheryl wasn’t that much older than thirty anyway.
Melinda smiled and said, “I’m so glad you came. Javier acts like I’m going to break.”
Sheryl took her hand off Melinda’s arm and let her waddle into the house first. She glanced back at Gage, who was just now coming up the steps. One look at his handsome face, and she knew how tonight was going to go.
She put her hand in his and went in the house after Melinda, the air conditioning delicious on this hot, humid South Carolina night. “Mel, this is my boyfriend, Gage.”
“Boyfriend?” Javier called, darting out from behind the wall that separated part of the kitchen from the living room. He laughed as he wiped his hands on a kitchen towel and tossed it on the counter. “I knew it. Sheryl.” He shook his head and came into the living room. “You’re a sneaky one.” He shook Gage’s hand. “I’m Javier Garcia.”
“Javier,” Sheryl said, her voice a little tight. “He’s worked at the inn forever.”
“Forever?” Javier scoffed. “Nope. But a while. This is my wife, Melinda.”
“Gage Sanders,” Sheryl said before Gage had to introduce himself. “Javvy says you’ve worked for his family’s water park a couple of times.”
“Oh, of course,” Gage said, polished and perfect—exactly the man Sheryl had dreamt about. “Riverdale, right?”
“Right.” Javier beamed at Gage. “My father runs the place.”
“Good concerts there,” Gage said. “Tell him I’m available any time.” He glanced at Sheryl, his hand tightening in hers. “Except for the surfing competition. I’m working that.”
“Oh, he knows better than to schedule something against the surfing,” Javier said. “Come in, come in. You don’t have to hover by the front door.” He moved back into the kitchen, Melinda following him.
Sheryl went before Gage, glad she’d gotten an awkward introduction out of the way. “Holy cow, Mel.” She took in the spread of food in front of her. “I told Gage you would do this, but it’s still a little overwhelming.”
“Oh, it’s just tacos,” she said.
“Just tacos?” Gage had joined Sheryl. “This looks amazing.”
Melinda had prepared authentic refried beans, Spanish rice, fresh tortillas that Sheryl had seen her hand-roll in the past, and all the toppings. Little bowls held cheese, lettuce, olives, tomatoes, salsa, and a variety of sauces.
“Which one is the spiciest?” Sheryl asked
, reaching for a handful of chips.
“The red one,” Javier said. “The green one is more mild.”
“I’m starving,” Mel said, and Gage added, “Me too.”
“Oh, he’s always starving,” Sheryl teased, glad when Gage’s dark eyes sparkled instead of turning hard.
“Hey, that footlong was hours ago,” he said. “And I forgot to tell you my brother is coming into town tomorrow.”
“Oh?” Sheryl took the plate Javier handed her, but she didn’t immediately dive into assembling her taco. “You can have the day off, if you want.”
“Day off?” Mel asked at the same time Gage said, “That’s not necessary.”
Sheryl looked back and forth between Mel and Gage. “Uh, Gage is sort of my bodyguard too.”
“Bodyguard with benefits, babe,” Javier said, throwing a teasing look at Sheryl. She rolled her eyes and started making her tacos as Mel nodded.
Melinda and Javier cleared out of the kitchen, and Gage moved around to the other side of the counter to spoon beans and rice onto his plate. “Is that true?” he asked, not looking up from his food.
“Which part?”
“Bodyguard with benefits?” He looked at her then, and Sheryl shrugged.
“I guess we’ll see.”
He chuckled and shook his head, finished piling chips on his plate, and joined her friends at their dining room table. “Oh, hello there,” he said to their pup, and Sheryl took a few extra moments in the kitchen to spoon on a healthy amount of sour cream. Mel bought it for her, she knew, and she also knew the green sauce would exceed her spice level, so a lot of sour cream was needed.
She watched Gage for as long as she dared, and he certainly seemed at ease folding over his taco and lifting it to his lips.
Heat shot through Sheryl as she watched that mouth, wondering what it would feel like against hers when the kiss was real.
Bodyguard, Not Boyfriend Page 6
