Defending Her Dignity (Renegade Love Bodyguard Novel Book 3)

by Jade Webb

  “Oh, for heavens!” she exclaims, her hand clutching her heart. “Why would she ever do such a thing?”

  I force myself to not roll my eyes. “She’s not interested in being cute. She’s interested in learning how to box and defend herself.”

  Muffy shakes her head, a sad look on her face. “Poor girl.” She reaches for me again, this time squeezing my hand, her plastic fingernails digging into my palm. “Your little girl sounds like she just needs a mother figure to help her out. Get her some pretty dresses, do her hair up real nice.”

  At this, I close my menu and place it on the table. I have three choices here: I can be honest with Muffy, tell her that I know this will never work between us and thank her for her time, I can force a smile to my face and just suffer through the remainder of this dinner, or I can fake an emergency. I have proudly never resorted to the third option in my entire dating career. Still, desperate times call for desperate measures. And right now, I am a desperate man.

  All right man. You’re on. Make it look good.

  As I open my mouth to say something, I snap it closed and dive my hand toward my pocket. “Oh, I’m so sorry,” I say as I reach for my phone. “I didn’t know I still had my phone on.”

  Muffy looks at me, her perfectly groomed eyebrows arched in confusion. “I didn’t hear your phone go off.”

  Taking my phone out, I look up at Muffy apologetically. “It’s on vibrate,” I lie. “And this is actually my babysitter. Do you mind if I take it?”

  Before she can respond, I “answer” the call. I wait a few seconds, furrow my brow a bit to look as if I’m listening intently, then drop my mouth open, making sure to sell the shocked look.

  “Oh, God, is she okay? Which hospital are you taking her to?”

  I sneak a glance over at Muffy, who watches the entire scene with a shocked expression. I’m not entirely sure if it’s because I’m convincing, or because this whole charade is so terrible. Nevertheless, I’ve committed to it. I have to finish.

  “Okay, I’ll be there soon,” I say, before “hanging up.”

  I look over to my date. “Muffy, I am so sorry,” I say. “This has never happened before.”

  Muffy holds up her hand and forces a smile to her red lips. “Don’t worry about it.”

  It’s obvious now that she knows my entire performance was a sham. But I’ve committed, and it’s too late to back out. I toss a fifty-dollar bill on the table and offer her a thankful smile as I rush back out the door. Thankfully the valet is quick, and a flash of a twenty-dollar bill gets my car in under a minute. When I’m finally back on the road, headed home, I feel a weight lift off my shoulders. Because thanks to my misadventures with Muffy tonight, I now clearly know what I want. And she’s waiting for me back at home.

  14

  Yael

  “Little fighter, why the long face?” I ask as I take Isabel’s calzone and add it to the other two on the tray before sliding it into the oven.

  Isabel shrugs her shoulders and pulls her eyes away from me. I wrap an arm around her shoulder and sit her down on the long counter. Leaning on the granite, I look at her.

  “Dad is on a date,” she says, her voice soft and sullen.

  “How do you know that?” I ask her.

  “Whenever he says he has a ‘thing,’ it means he’s going on a date. He used to go on a lot more dates, but then he stopped.” She shrugs her shoulders in defeat. “I thought he was done forever.”

  “You don’t want your dad to date?” I ask after a long pause. Already I’m growing uncomfortable with the direction this conversation is going, but I know it’s important for Isabel to share her feelings. And I need to push aside my own complicated feelings for her dad and be there for her.

  “I want him to be happy,” she answers. “But I overheard him telling aunt Gabby and aunt Daphni that all the women he dates just want him for his money. They don’t want to be with him because they like him. And they don’t want to be a step-mother.” Her blue eyes turn glassy as she looks up at me. “It’s my fault that my dad is alone.”

  “No, Isabel. Why would you say that?”

  “Because he’s stuck with me. And if he wasn’t, he could find someone to fall in love with and have a family the right way.” Her eyes overfill with moisture and she begins to cry. “I was just a mistake.”

  I wrap my arms around her and pull her close to my chest. “No, don’t ever say that, Isabel. You are a gift. Your dad is so lucky to have you. You make his life so much better.”

  Isabel continues to sob against me and I press a soft kiss on her head. When we hear the side door to the kitchen open, we both look up in surprise. Julep instantly jumps from her spot sitting by Isabel’s feet and excitedly rushes toward Lawrence. He gives a quick scratch behind her ears before the smile fades from his face as he sees Isabel’s tear-stained cheeks.

  She rushes out of my arms and runs toward him. When she reaches him, Lawrence picks her up and presses a kiss to her cheek. “What’s going on, Isabel?”

  Isabel shakes her head and swipes the back of her hands across her cheeks. “Nothing, Dad.”

  He looks at her skeptically but places her down on the ground. “Okay, if you say so.” Looking up at me, he offers me a tired smile. “How was your day?”

  “Good,” I answer. I’m dying to ask him about his date, and why he’s home so early, but I know it’s not my place. And I don’t want Isabel to get upset again.

  He looks toward the oven and a smile overtakes his face. “Did you make one for me, too?”

  Isabel smiles and nods. “Of course!”

  Grabbing his hand, she leads him to sit at the chair behind the island counter. “What do you want to drink, Dad?” she asks as she walks toward the fridge.

  He looks up at me, his brow quirked, clearly surprised by her sudden attentiveness, before answering. “I’ll just have some water.”

  Isabel eagerly pours him a glass of water and takes the seat next to him. She spends the next twenty minutes enthusiastically retelling her day as the calzones bake in the oven. Every few minutes, she’ll look back at me to fill in a few details, but she doesn’t pause long enough for me to add much. She’s just so excited to have her dad back for the night.

  When the oven timer finally goes off, I slide the three calzones out of the oven and pop them onto plates.

  “Careful, Isabel,” I caution as she grabs hers.

  “Dad, can we all eat at the table tonight?” Isabel asks.

  Lawrence, at first visibly caught off guard by her question, quickly recovers and smiles at her. “Sure, kiddo.” He looks toward me. “Is that okay with you?”

  “Of course,” I answer automatically. I follow the duo into the adjacent informal dining room. I had learned there are two kinds of dining rooms in this house: informal and formal, though I’m still not entirely sure why two people need two separate dining rooms. I grab the seat across from Isabel and next to Lawrence. Oddly, the whole arrangement feels very domestic, very different from the dinners I had eaten alone back home, when my father would work late into the night. And as much as I had enjoyed cooking, it was difficult to enjoy it when there was no one else to share a meal with. But tonight? Tonight, I would enjoy.

  “And that is how we discovered that Miss Isabel had a real, certifiable monster living under her bed,” Lawrence finishes as he winks at his daughter.

  Isabel dramatically rolls her eyes and sticks out her tongue at her dad, who smiles triumphantly in return. The whole exchange unexpectedly sends a shaft of comforting warmth through me. The obvious love shared between Lawrence and Isabel is one I’ve longed to experience my whole life. But instead of feeling the familiar pang of jealousy, I feel included: as if I’m part of this small unit, a loved member myself. And even though it’s only been a few weeks that I’ve been here, I’m surprised by how easy it’s been to feel at home here, to feel welcomed. And that feeling simultaneously thrills and terrifies me. Because my time here has a clear expiration date, and it
could be dangerous to believe that any of this could be permanent.

  “Earth to Yael!” I hear Isabel’s voice call out, tearing me away from my thoughts.

  I look up to see Isabel and Lawrence both watching me, curious smiles on their face.

  “You okay, there? Looks like we lost you for a second,” Lawrence asks.

  I shake my head and force a smile to my lips. “Sorry, I was daydreaming. How was everyone’s dinner?”

  Isabel smiles and rubs her belly. “Amazing! I make the best calzones,” she proclaims right before she jumps from the table and rushes into the kitchen.

  Lawrence grabs for my plate and stacks it on top of his as he follows his daughter into the kitchen. Collecting all the glasses, I follow behind.

  “Dad,” Isabel whines, her lips forming an adorable pout.

  “Once you finish your homework, you can play,” Lawrence says, shaking his head.

  “Fine,” she concedes, before racing out of the kitchen and up the stairs to her room.

  “I was going to have a glass of wine and sit outside. Would you like to join?” Lawrence asks, gesturing to a bottle of red wine sitting on the counter.

  I hesitate a moment. While every cell in my body is screaming “YES,” the rational side of my brain is warning me to be cautious. Don’t get attached, Yael. Ignoring that nagging, sensible voice, I smile and nod. “I’d like that.”

  I follow Lawrence outside, where we sit on two wooden chairs overlooking the pool and expansive backyard. Julep follows us outside and makes a few laps around the yard before settling comfortably at our feet.

  After pouring a glass for me, Lawrence fills a second one for himself. We drink in silence, both of us watching the sun as it slowly creeps back toward the horizon.

  “So, were you on a date tonight?” The question leaves my lips before I have a chance to call it back. Not that I want to, I admit. My curiosity has been pricking at me all night and I want to know why he came home so soon.

  I look over at Lawrence to find him smiling at me. “How did you know?”

  I shrug and take a long sip out of my wine glass. “Isabel knew. Something about how whenever you say you have a ‘thing,’ it really means you have a date.”

  Lawrence lets out a low whistle and smiles. “That girl is too smart for her own good.” He pauses a moment before turning to look at me. “Is that why she was crying when I came back?”

  I nod. “She feels guilty. Feels like it’s her fault that you haven’t been able to fall in love again.”

  “What?” he asks, his brows knit in confusion. “How is that possible?”

  “I think she overheard you saying something to your sisters about how hard it was to date as a single father, and how women only wanted you for your money.”

  “Well, that last part is true,” he concedes. “And yeah, it is harder to date as a single father. I’m not just looking for a partner, I’m also looking for a mother for Isabel.”

  “That must be hard,” I say. And truthfully, I can’t imagine how difficult it must be not knowing if someone is interested in you or your wallet. And then the added pressure of wanting to ensure that they will be a good mother to your daughter? That would be enough to scare me off.

  “It is when I get dates with someone like the woman from tonight.”

  I arch my brow, intrigued. “Sounds like a good story.”

  Lawrence laughs. “First of all, she was a model who has never actually modeled. She did have a secret portfolio she wanted to share with me, though. Secondly, she had these really sharp red nails that kept cutting into me. And third, she believed that Isabel needed a good mother figure and someone to put her into dresses and style her hair.”

  I choke back a sip of my wine. “God, I would love to see Isabel handle that one.”

  Lawrence chuckles. “I know, right? Poor Muffy would have lasted ten minutes.”

  I shake my head. “Muffy? That was her name? I don’t believe it.”

  “Believe it,” he says, before taking a long sip from his glass. His expression changes, the easy smile fading away. “All I could think about was how I wanted to come home. And be here. With Isabel.” He pauses, placing his wine glass on the table between us, and turns to face me. “And you.”

  I look at him, unsure how to respond. His face is so honest; it’s like I can read every emotion so easily on him. He isn’t afraid to show me how he feels. So why can’t I be that open with him?

  Because you grew up with an expressionless father who showed love by tying you to chairs for six hours. No wonder you’re emotionally stunted, Yael.

  I want to open my mouth, to tell him how I feel. But how do I feel? Sure, I’m attracted to him. I mean what woman—or man—walking by this perfect human specimen wouldn’t be? But still, acknowledging my feelings would mean they were real. Then something would change between us. And it could end in disaster. And the only way to prevent that was to keep this door closed.

  I bite down on my lip, unsure of how to start. “Lawrence, I—”

  “You don’t have to say anything,” Lawrence says, cutting me off. He offers me a reassuring smile as he picks up his wine glass again. “I just wanted you to know.”

  I snap my mouth closed, determining it’s better in this moment to stay silent than to say something I may regret. Because if there is anything I might regret most in this world, it’s admitting that I think I want to be with him, too.

  15

  Yael

  I pull into the long, curved driveway of Isabel’s private school with two minutes to spare. This morning had been a tough one. Lawrence has been unexpectedly away for the last three days, after needing to go to Boston for a series of important meetings.

  And when he had to pack his suitcases, Isabel had been so disappointed, and I could tell Lawrence had been as well, but she had kept a brave face for him. That is, until, yesterday when he was due back and had to reschedule his flight to a later time. That had not been fun. And unfortunately, I was beginning to see a new side to Isabel: one that apparently had severe separation anxiety and a tendency to burst into inconsolable crying spells. Yeah, definitely not fun.

  And, when Lawrence hadn’t been able to answer his phone this morning, Isabel had another complete meltdown. It was only after several bribes—including promising to buy her a cookie after school—that I had managed to get her here at all.

  I help her out of the car and kneel down before her. Her cheeks are still stained a bright pink from her hysterical crying earlier in the morning. I brush an escaped blonde curl from her round face and wipe away her remaining tears.

  “Isabel, can you give me a smile before you go to school today? I can’t go my whole day without seeing you smile.” I pout, offering her my saddest, most pathetic, face. She shakes her head “no” as her blue eyes again fill with tears.

  “Isabel, I—” Before I can finish, I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket. Praying for a miracle, I dig it out and offer Isabel an excited smile as I turn my phone to her, showing her the FaceTime caller ID. When she sees her father’s name on the screen, a large smile takes over her face and she hastily brushes the wetness from her eyes.

  I slide my finger over the screen to answer the call and hand the phone to Isabel, who instantly grabs it and clutches it her tiny hands.

  “Daddy?” she asks, her voice a good ten octaves higher from the excitement.

  “Hey, kiddo! How are you?” I can hear Lawrence ask on the other end of the line. I peek over Isabel’s shoulder to see his face on the small screen. He’s wearing a white button-down shirt with the collar open, and a tie hangs loosely at his neck. Dark circles rim his eyes, and it’s easy to read the stress and exhaustion radiating off his face.

  “Dad, you were supposed to be home now. When are you coming back?”

  “I know, baby. I’m so sorry. But I’ll be home soon. And I know you have to be in class, so I wanted to tell you I love you and to have a fantastic day.”

  At his words, Isabel nod
s her head along, her wide, toothy grin never leaving her face. “Okay, I love you, too!” Out of the corner of her eye, she spots a small group of girls and waves excitedly toward them. Turning back to the screen, she gives her father a smile. “I have to go now, so talk to Yael!” she says as she shoves the phone into my hands and runs toward her friends walking inside. From full-on meltdown to happy and skipping in under five minutes flat.

  I hold the phone in my hand, and stare into the small pinhole camera, doing my best not to cringe when I see myself in the tiny square in the corner. God, I should have brushed my hair today at least. I have been purposefully avoiding Lawrence since our conversation a few days ago, when he had told me that he had left his date because he wanted to come home to see Isabel… and to see me. After that comment, he had thankfully changed the subject, but his words still continued to echo in my head. And I couldn’t deny that I felt something shift between us, drawing us closer to the edge of … something. Whatever it was, it was new territory for me and borderline terrifying. The idea of possibly falling for a man like him was devastating. I was so out of his league, it was laughable.

  “Uh, hi Lawrence,” I mutter as I smooth some of the flyaway hairs at my temple.

  “Hi, Yael. How’s it going?”

  I shrug my shoulders. “Good. Isabel misses you a lot, so thanks for calling. She was really upset this morning.”

  Lawrence sighs wearily and combs a hand through his chestnut hair. “It’s hard for her when I’m away. Thank you for being there with her.”

  “Of course,” I say, sucking in my bottom lip as I study him further. He looks terrible: his eyes are bloodshot and a small pile of takeout boxes lay in a haphazard pile at the corner of his desk. It looks like he pulled an all-nighter. “You know, you don’t look so good,” I comment.

  Despite his obvious exhaustion, Lawrence laughs and shakes his head. “You always know just the right things to say.”

  I bite my lip and cringe, realizing that maybe I should start working on my filter. “You’re right, that was terrible. I’m sorry.” I look at him again and offer a strained smile. “You look…fine.”