Her Keeper

by Rianna Campbell

  For a while, he’d noticed it a lot, but then he’d gotten used to it being there and he'd paid less and less attention to it. Every time he would see her, the picture would change and it would take a while for it to fade into the background again.

  This was just the same thing, or at least that’s what he told himself. Except for some reason, this time it seemed to be getting worse, not better.

  Maybe it had something to do with the dress she’d worn or the way her skin had felt under his hand. He’d never been that close to her before. He’d never gotten close enough to catch that spiced vanilla scent of hers, and he’d never touched her. He hadn’t even shaken her hand when they met.

  She’d walked into the room and introductions had been made to the whole group of them. It had been a wave and nod situation.

  There’d been something about her that had attracted him from the first, but seeing her in that dress in that club had broken his resolve. Now that he’d gotten close to her, now that he’d seen her in that place, he couldn’t stop imagining all the things that he’d try so hard not to.

  It was like a polaroid that developed and became clearer over time. Every time he thought about her, he noticed more details, more nuances that fed his fantasies and made them feel more real.

  Hell, if he'd been sleeping, he’d probably be dreaming about her at night. It had gotten so bad that he'd had to take a sleeping pill three times in the last week when he usually tried to use them only when necessary.

  So, instead of just Jackson being twitchy and distracted, they’d both been having trouble focusing. Their apartment had never been this quiet for this long before.

  He’d tried to get Jackson to come out with him, maybe grab a few beers, play some pool and blow off steam. His buddy was having none of it, and there was no one else to ask. And wasn’t it just a kick in the balls to realize how small his world was?

  So, instead, he’d watched ESPN until his eyes bled, drank beer, and ate takeout alone in the living room. He was actually relieved when Friday rolled around and it was time to head out to Elysium.

  He was oddly nervous, bordering on excited. He told himself not to be stupid. He’d warned Amanda away. She wasn’t going to be there. Idiot that he was, that didn’t keep him from hoping.

  Parker thought he’d given up on useless things like that a long time ago, but apparently, it not only sprang eternal, but hope grew straight out of concrete like grass in a sidewalk.

  Jackson was out already, having been scheduled during the day, so at least he didn’t have an audience as he checked and rechecked the lines of his suit and the knot in his tie. He shook his head and called himself every name in the book, but he couldn’t help feeling like he was headed off to prom instead of going to work security at a high-end sex club.

  Not that he would know what it felt like to go to prom. Jackson hadn’t gone, so neither had Parker. Jackson's dad had died not long before and after that, he hadn’t cared about any of the stuff that had mattered to him before. He hadn’t gone to football games, which was practically a sin in the great state of Texas. He hadn’t dated, hell, he’d barely looked at girls.

  Parker had been nearly as upset as Jackson when Hank Hunter had died, but he hadn’t been upset in the least to skip the usual social events. It all seemed so… stupid.

  He’d never related well to other people and avoided crowds when he could. Which was why he was now thirty and had one friend in the world. He didn’t mind it. Jackson had walked into his life at sixteen and Parker had never looked back.

  He tried not to think too much about his life before that, and he wasn’t about to think about it now. He wondered what his life would look like if Jackson made a go of it with Janie. And if Janie was half as in love with Jackson as he was in love with her, he had no doubt that he would get her back.

  Jackson was the type of guy who deserved a woman like Janie. He had his rough edges, but Jackson was the real deal. Honor, integrity, valor- all that bullshit you see in the recruiting material- Jackson was the only person he’d ever met who actually fit the bill.

  If life had been fair, he would have been a goddamn General by the time he left the Corps. But since he’d refused to kiss asses and lick boots, he’d risen up the ranks at the same rate as everyone else, which was about as molasses in a snowstorm. Jackson didn’t care about rank or prestige, all he cared about was taking care of his family and keeping his team alive.

  Jackson was an excellent leader because he never bothered to think of himself. And that was exactly what kept him from getting the promotions he deserved. He looked after anyone and everyone, and he didn’t give one good goddamn about how many chevrons were on his collar. Which was exactly why Parker thought he should have had a hell of a lot more.

  Parker hadn’t cared about promotion either, but for completely different reasons. And he certainly didn’t have the right qualities to be a leader. He’d done what was needed and he would have happily taken a bullet for Jackson, but then again, he’d joined for the sole purpose of making sure Jackson made it home to his family.

  He’d done that and managed to make it home in one piece in the process, so here he was. He’d always gone where Jackson went without giving it a second thought, but now…

  That left him with nothing he could really call his own: no family, no ambition, no career. Everything Parker had ever had was because of Jackson.

  His ringing phone pulled Parker out of the whirlwind of his thoughts. It was a number he didn’t recognize, so he sent it to voicemail.

  At least his wandering mind had thrown a wet blanket over that glimmer of hope that he hadn’t been able to quash on his own. After all, he wasn’t the type of guy who deserved a woman like Amanda Hughes. He just thanked his lucky stars that Jackson hadn’t fallen in love with her instead. Jackson would have deserved her, but Parker might have lost his mind.

  ✽✽✽

  Amanda was looking forward to a Saturday night off and was thoroughly enjoying the prospect of a night in with a bowl of popcorn and Netflix. She and Alexandra had had a successful morning of shopping. They’d picked out a style for the bridesmaid’s dresses that would look good on all of them. Angel and Janie had approved them via text based on photos they’d been sent and Alexandra was able to check the last item off her list.

  Afterward, Amanda had gone shopping and gotten groceries for the week, paid her bills, balanced her checkbook, and done three loads of laundry which consisted almost entirely of work clothes.

  She was feeling hella-accomplished having spent her day adulting and now she wanted nothing more than to rewatch The Office until she passed out on the couch. It didn’t matter that she’d watched it all the way through at least a dozen times, it was her go to show.

  She was just about to settle in with her snacks and a bottle of wine when Ricky Bobby- Rick and Bobby- hustled out of their room, bickering as usual. They noticed her on the couch and stopped dead in their tracks.

  They were dressed up, or what passed for it in Bobby’s case, and they looked at her and then back at each other as if they were having a silent conversation. Finally, Bobby nudged Rick with his elbow and whispered something she didn’t catch.

  “You know I can see you, right?” Amanda asked, glancing down at herself to make sure she hadn’t pulled a Frodo. “What’s going on?”

  “We didn’t think you’d be home tonight,” Rick replied, tugging on the cuffs of his neatly pressed white shirt. He was a whiz with the starch and iron, but his sense of style definitely left something to be desired. He dressed like a poorly paid junior professor, but at least he wasn’t wearing the dreaded sweater vest.

  “We figured you’d be working,” Bobby added, running a hand through his shaggy blond curls. His fashion sense was a little better with his dark blue jeans and navy shirt, but he clearly hadn’t ironed it before he put it on. In fact, it looked like it had probably been crumpled up in the bottom of the closet since the last time he’d worn it. Whether or not it had been w
ashed in between was another question entirely.

  “Nope. Night off. Are you guys going out?” Amanda asked, still not knowing what had their panties in a wad.

  “Yeah. We have a double date.” Rick glanced sidelong at Bobby as if he wasn’t sure it was a good idea.

  “Are you… staying in?” Bobby asked. “Like, all night?” He shifted on his feet, looking embarrassed.

  Amanda finally figured out why they were wigged. They shared a bedroom and they had a double date. Meaning, if by some astronomical odds they both happened to get lucky, things would get awkward. They’d obviously decided one couple could just use the couch. That they all shared.

  “Are you fucking kidding me right now?”

  Bobby turned the color of a tomato and looked away. Rick stared at his shoes, silent as the grave.

  “Please tell me you have not had sex on this couch before.” Amanda glared at them.

  “I haven’t,” Rick chimed in, looking pleased with himself.

  “What were you going to do about Jace and Dylan?” Amanda asked, looking around the apartment. She could certainly use some backup in this conversation. Jace was the levelheaded peacemaker of the bunch. He actually was a junior professor, though he dressed more like a college student. On a budget. Apparently, when you taught film studies they didn’t expect as much from your wardrobe.

  And Dylan was the only one of them with an honest to God, capital J job. Investments or something like that. Why he even needed roommates was a mystery to all of them and a subject that he refused to discuss. He took boundaries very seriously, which is why he’d flip his shit if he knew that Bobby was doing the nasty in a common room.

  “Jace is out of town until tomorrow,” Bobby replied with a shrug. “He left a note on the fridge.”

  How had she missed that?

  “What about Dylan?”

  “Went home to visit his parents this weekend.”

  “This is what I get for living with guys,” Amanda muttered to herself as she got up off the couch, taking her bowl of popcorn and bottle of wine with her to her bedroom.

  “I owe you one!” Bobby called after her.

  “Yeah, you fucking do. And you can start by getting the couch professionally cleaned.” She slammed her door behind her with a stifled scream of frustration.

  Amanda sighed as she set the bowl and bottle on her nightstand and flopped onto her bed. One night of vegging on the couch. That didn’t seem like too much to ask. But, no. Thing one and thing two had a date so she had to clear out of her own living room on the off chance that they both got laid.

  She pulled out her cell phone and called Alexandra. Maybe they could have a girls’ night or something. Dinner, drinks- anything so she wasn’t stuck in this bedroom by herself for the rest of the night.

  “Hello?” Alexandra answered.

  “How’s my favorite sister?” Amanda replied.

  “What do you need?”

  “What are you talking about? I can’t just call to say hello?”

  “You can, and you do. But I just saw you this morning and you only say things like that when you need something.”

  Amanda sighed and admitted the truth. “I’m being sexiled.”

  “What?” Alexandra laughed.

  “I’m being restricted from the common areas because Rick and Bobby have a double date.”

  “Why does that matter?”

  “They share a room, Lex.” Amanda gave her a minute and eventually, she got it.

  “Oh! Oh, that’s gross.”

  “Yeah. Please rescue me and tell me you’re free. We could have dinner. I’ll even pay.”

  “Sorry, Mandy. I have plans already,” Alexandra murmured apologetically. Amanda could practically hear her blushing.

  “Gross,” Amanda replied in her sister’s own words.

  “I’m really, really sorry,” Alexandra said. “Any other night I would, but Connor and I have hardly seen each other all week.”

  “It’s fine.”

  “How about lunch tomorrow?”

  “Can’t. I have to be at work at noon.”

  “Breakfast? Brunch?” Alexandra suggested.

  “Really. Don’t worry about it.”

  “Okay. But call me this week?”

  “Sure,” Amanda promised.

  “Love you.”

  “Love you, too.”

  Amanda ended the call and went to her contacts list. She scrolled through looking for other options and came up with nothing. Until her eye snagged on a new contact she’d added last weekend.

  Kate Monroe’s number glowed back at her and she remembered the woman vividly. She’d liked her almost immediately. She’d been poised, classy, but also kind and easy to talk to. She was tempted to give her a call until she remembered Parker’s stern face as he’d put her in the Uber and told her not to come back.

  She sat staring at her phone and chewing her thumbnail. It was probably a good thing that her job kept her from being able to have her nails long anyway because she’d never been able to grow them out and polish didn’t stand a chance.

  She gnawed away as she replayed that short interaction at Elysium. Her brain kept getting hung up on how good Parker had looked in that suit. Which made her wonder what he would look like without it.

  Suddenly she was angry with herself. Why was she obsessing over him and what he thought? He’d told her not to come back and she’d just… what? Didn’t question it? What the hell was that about?

  Amanda Hughes didn’t just do as she was told. She was a grown woman and not even her father told her what to do. He’d been smart enough to stop issuing demands when she was sixteen and had instead started finding different ways to make “suggestions.”

  She’d still had rules and punishments, but he’d learned that telling her flat out what she could and couldn’t do was the fastest way to start an argument.

  And she had a strong, sudden urge to do exactly what she wanted and screw Parker Hanson and his high-handed imperative sentences.

  She pressed send on Kate’s number and listened to it ring as she got up and went to her closet.

  “Hello?” Kate answered.

  “Kate, hi. This is Amanda Hughes. I don’t know if you remember, but we met last weekend at Elysium.”

  “Ah, yes. I was hoping you would call sooner or later. What can I do for you?”

  “I was wondering if your offer still stands?”

  There was a slight pause and then Kate chuckled softly, her voice low and smokey.

  “I’ll put your name on the guest list and I’ll come find you when you get here.”

  “Thank you,” Amanda said, genuinely pleased.

  “Of course.”

  Now Amanda just had to get ready. And she absolutely did not think at all about Parker Hanson as she carefully selected her lingerie and clothes. Nope. Not at all.

  After a quick shower and shave, she pulled on a black lace bralette and underwear to match before pulling on a leather mini skirt and sheer, sleeveless blouse.

  A pair of black booties with a stiletto heel went on next and when she checked her reflection, she was satisfied.

  She didn’t have a lot of places to go aside from work, but Amanda had always had an eye for fashion and when she did go out, she liked to look her best. She might not always have a perfect manicure, but her wardrobe was her pride and joy.

  This was a little more skin than she would normally show, but she had good legs and even though the blouse was sheer, it was buttoned up almost to the top. Not that she had much cleavage to show. She was a B cup at best, but she didn’t mind. They fit her frame and at least she wouldn’t have any back problems from lugging around a pair of oversized melons.

  She threw a bit of mousse into her hair and left it to air dry into soft honey-colored waves around her face. A little blush and mascara, red lipstick and she was out the door within an hour. Not record time, but it would do.

  Forty minutes after that she was rolling up to the front drive o
f the Elysium and once again marveling at the sheer size of the place.

  She paid the driver and made her way up to the front door, where she faced a moment of terror. What if, like last week, one of Connor’s guys was at the front door? Shaking herself out of it, she reminded herself she was a big girl and she wasn’t going to worry about what her sister or her fiancé thought of her extracurricular activities.

  She didn’t ask about their sex lives, and the least they could do was return the favor.

  Luckily, it wasn’t something she’d have to worry about, as the man at the door wasn’t anyone she recognized. He was tall and tan and young… and decidedly not lovely. Nope, definitely not one of Connor’s guys.

  She gave him her name and after a quick glance at the list he waved her through with a bored, half-hearted sweep of his hand.

  She tucked her clutch beneath her arm and made her way into the club’s bar area.

  Ordering herself a cocktail, she turned and surveyed the room. There was a decent crowd, men in designer suits and women in high-end fashion mingled and chatted. There was some flirting here and there, but nothing more than a hand that lingered on an arm, or at the small of the back, for an extra moment.

  It all appeared so innocent, you’d never know what really happened here once you mounted the stairs and ducked into the private rooms there.

  Not that she knew precisely what happened there either. Colin had made some vague suggestions in an attempt to flirt, which she’d refused to encourage for obvious reasons. Parker had made some that were vaguer still, but her imagination had run pretty wild in the absence of any concrete details.

  It was like when someone said, “we need to talk.” You always imagined a hundred things that it could be about, and what you came up with was usually worse than the truth.

  She’d certainly imagined some pretty kinky shit, but she was sure there was a lot she couldn’t even imagine. That was why she was here, after all. At least partly.

  She was careful to keep her focus on the ground floor, watching small groups of people form and disperse and reform in the large lobby of the club. She did not look up at the second-floor balcony where she knew there would be at least one member of security looking out over the club.