Her Cowboy Billionaire Bodyguard

by Liz Isaacson

Graham just chuckled and said, “Why didn’t you tell me Lily had left?”

  “No point,” Beau muttered, hoping this would be a very short conversation.

  “Is she coming back?”

  “Not unless she has to appear in court.”

  “Where is she?”

  “Nashville.”

  Graham made a noise of disapproval, and that almost sent Beau over the edge. Sure, he could be mad at Lily, but he didn’t want anyone else to think badly of her.

  “Well, why are you still here?” Graham asked next.

  Beau lifted his head and looked at his brother. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, it’s obvious you’re in love with her. Why don’t you go find her and make sure she knows?”

  It sounded so simple. “It’s not that simple,” Beau said.

  “Isn’t it?”

  “No.” He sighed and swung his legs over the side of the bed. “I’m fine. I’m getting up.”

  “About the tree lighting—”

  “I’ll get it done,” Beau said, flashing his brother a dark look. “Okay? Leave me alone. I still have six days before Christmas Eve.” And he had no idea how he was going to survive them. Probably how he’d been suffering through the minutes and hours of the past two weeks.

  Or had it been three? Four?

  Beau had no idea, and another wave of helplessness engulfed him, almost driving him back to bed. He stood instead, stretched his back, and said, “Now, if you could just point me in the direction of where the Christmas ornaments are stored….”

  Twenty

  Lily checked out of the hotel where she’d been for less than twelve hours by leaving her room key on the dresser in the room. Over the course of the last week, she hadn’t stayed in the same place for more than one night. She’d kept her hair hidden, unable to bring herself to dye it. Her long, almost white hair was one of the trademarks of the Everett Sisters, and she couldn’t cut or color it. She actually had a contract not to.

  So she smoothed it back and tied a scarf over her head, covering that with the hood from her sweatshirt. When she was satisfied that not a wisp of her hair was showing, she stepped out of the room and forced herself to walk calmly to the rental car.

  She’d left hers at the bus station in Jackson Hole, hidden in the bathroom to call her manager about using the business credit card to rent something inconspicuous to drive back to Nashville.

  “Does this mean you’re coming back?” Shawn had asked, and Lily had confirmed it. She’d said she’d be in Nashville for the New Year, and she still had a couple of weeks to get there.

  The thought of spending Christmas by herself made her chest cinch. She wanted to turn the car around and head back to Wyoming right now. She could and if she drove straight through, she could be back by nightfall. Instead, she turned the car toward Kansas City and drove as if she were going into the city to work. She’d spend lunch at some run down diner or bistro, and then she’d hunt for a hotel in a smaller town a few hundred miles closer to Nashville.

  She didn’t want to go straight there, though if she just got in the car and put the pedal to the metal, she could see her sisters by morning.

  She was sort of hoping the highway would give her the answers she sought. Problem was, she wasn’t even sure she knew the questions to ask, so getting the answers was nigh to impossible.

  “Help me,” she said aloud, glad she could still speak, that her voice worked. She hadn’t been using her vocal chords in quite the way she used to, and she began to hum and then sing one of the Everett Sister’s most popular ballads.

  When she finished that one, she went down the set list for their third album, the one that had broken the record for the most amount of tour money earned by a musical group. They’d broken their own record on the next tour, but their fifth album hadn’t been as popular.

  Lily sang through a few more songs, each one calming her until she felt like she could go ten more miles. Then ten more. Before she knew it, she was only an hour outside of St. Louis. She decided to stop there, choosing a big city over a small one for tonight.

  And she’d be in Nashville by tomorrow, if Rose didn’t email her about Kent. Lily didn’t know where he’d gone, and she hadn’t seen him.

  She’d had three phones since leaving Coral Canyon, and she’d emailed Beau with yet another email address that he hadn’t yet responded to. So she still had one case pending, and she almost hoped it would drag on and on, because then she’d have a tie to him. A connection.

  If he finished her legal work, she’d never have a legitimate reason to contact him.

  “Sure you would,” she told herself. “You like him.” Lily stopped speaking, because she really disliked lying to herself out loud. She more than liked Beau Whittaker, and way down deep she knew it. She didn’t want to let that truth up too far, or she might call him and tell him with real words.

  “He’ll never forgive you.” She sighed and leaned her head against the window. She decided she couldn’t drive anymore and got off the freeway when she saw the first hotel sign. She checked in, using cash she’d gotten in Denver, and made it to her assigned room without incident.

  She hadn’t meant to use the exact same reason as his previous girlfriend and client had used to break up with him. But it had worked, no matter how much hurt she’d seen in his eyes. No matter if she hadn’t wanted to say it or not.

  No matter that it wasn’t really true.

  “Oh, it’s at least partially true,” she said to the empty room. Yes, she had loved the lodge, and the little of Coral Canyon that she’d seen. She had wanted to stay and decorate that gigantic Christmas tree, and experience the tree lighting ceremony with Beau and his family.

  She wondered if he’d gone in her bedroom yet, or if he’d let Bree take care of the linens. She’d already gotten him a Christmas gift, smuggled into the lodge by Celia after one of her trips to town, and she’d left the present on the nightstand in her bedroom.

  She hoped he hadn’t gotten it yet, not that he had and had then decided not to email her a thank you.

  “Doesn’t matter,” she whispered as she dragged her suitcase closer to the bed. She unzipped it and got out what she needed to take a shower, hoping the hot water could help her relax but fearing that she wouldn’t be able to do that until her cases were settled and she’d figured out what to say to Beau.

  She pulled up to the gate where Vi lived, a tremor of anticipation skipping through her system. After rolling down the window, she pressed the button and waited. Vi had a doorman that checked all traffic in and out of the house, and his voice came through the speaker with a distinct English accent.

  “Who may I say is here?” Rupert always asked the same thing. He was never impolite, even when he had to turn someone away.

  “It’s Lily, Rupert,” she said, pulling her shades down slightly so he could see her eyes. “I’m not sure if Vi knew I’d be here today or not.”

  “One moment.”

  Lily sighed and leaned her head against the back of her seat. She felt spent, like she didn’t have anything inside of her to give. But when Rupert said, “Please pull forward,” in the same voice she’d heard him use countless times before, she found the strength to do just that.

  Move forward.

  As she eased her rental car down the meticulously landscaped lane and around the bend to the front door, she hoped her reunion would be joyous. Her sisters spilled from the double-wide doors as she put the car in park, and she could see their jubilation plainly on their faces.

  It was enough to spur her from the car, a shriek riding the back of her throat.

  “Lily!” Rose laughed as she flew down the stairs ahead of Vi and slammed into Lily, grabbing onto her and giggling like a little girl.

  “You’re home.” Vi engulfed them all in a hug, and Lily put one arm around each of them, her tears instant and hot in her eyes and on her face. Oh, how she’d missed them. There was nowhere as comforting as her sister’s arms, and she held the
m tight, tight, tight.

  When she pulled away, she wasn’t the only one crying, thank goodness.

  “You’ve ruined my perfect makeup day,” Vi said, wiping her eyes. “My eyeliner was so crisp.” She gave a tear-filled laugh, and Lily just beamed at her.

  “You look great,” she told her sister. Vi did not have a contract for her hair color, but she kept it the color of ripe wheat. Lily knew that came out of a bottle, but Vi had never told anyone that but her family. “I love you guys.”

  Rose slipped her arm around Lily and hugged her close. “It’s so good to see you. Come tell us everything.” And when Rose said that, Lily knew she’d have to do exactly that. Another wave of exhaustion rolled over her, but the moment she stepped inside her sister’s house, she felt the same peace that had existed in the lodge in Coral Canyon.

  “So is everything settled?” Vi asked, curling her slender legs under her body.

  “Almost.” Lily pushed out her breath as she sat, her eyes drifting closed too. “One case left.”

  “And you came home?” The surprise in Vi’s voice wasn’t hard to find.

  Lily opened her eyes to catch the tail end of an exchanged look between Rose and Vi. They were going to find out everything anyway, because Lily didn’t keep a whole lot of secrets from her sisters. It made recording and working together difficult.

  “I hired the best lawyer in Wyoming,” she said.

  “Of course you did,” Rose said, an obvious encouragement for Lily to keep talking.

  “And he also happened to be this rugged, sexy mountain man with a law degree.”

  “Oh, boy,” Vi said. “How is it that she gets to meet all the interesting men when she’s supposed to be in hiding?” She looked at Rose as if she’d just asked a serious question, then tossed a playful smile at Lily.

  But Lily couldn’t smile back. Her heart hurt too much. “I left him there. Kent showed up, and I freaked out, and I left the cowboy lawyer in Wyoming.”

  Several beats of silence passed, broken when Rose said, “Get her her guitar, Vi. Let’s see what she’s been working on.”

  Lily didn’t want to tell them she hadn’t been working on anything. The Lily she’d been when she’d left them here in Nashville was a workaholic. Someone always jotting down lyrics or finding new ways to rhyme.

  Vi got up and left the room, and Lily looked at Rose. “I haven’t played a guitar in over a year.”

  Rose just blinked at her. Asked, “What?”

  “I didn’t work on any songs while I was gone.”

  Vi returned, Lily’s guitar in her hand. The veneer on the front gleamed as if they’d had it polished weekly while she’d been gone. Guilt gutted her, and she accepted the instrument from her sister.

  “She says she hasn’t played,” Rose said. “You haven’t written one song?”

  Lily shook her head, taking a few moments to get the guitar settled in her lap the way she liked it. Playing the guitar felt natural to her, and her fingers found their places on the board easily. She plucked, knowing she’d have some serious pain until her calluses reformed.

  “I wrote down some lyrics at first,” Lily said above the low guitar music. “But nothing serious.”

  Until Beau. Then she’d had all kinds of lyrics come to her. She hadn’t organized them into anything resembling a song though.

  “Well, it’s time to get serious,” Vi said. “Lee said he can’t wait to see you in the studio in January.”

  Lily glanced at Vi, an internal groan forming in her chest. Instead of letting it out, she said, “I think I might have a song for Beau.”

  “Beau?” Rose asked. “Is he your boyfriend?”

  “Was,” Lily said. “He was my boyfriend.”

  And all at once the lyrics she needed to express her sadness, her frustration, and her depression appeared in her mind.

  “We should probably write this down,” she said, her fingers picking out a tune.

  “I’m recording,” Vi said, holding up her phone.

  “All right.” Lily played through several more notes, then opened her mouth to sing, at home here with her sisters, with this guitar in her lap, with songs streaming from her.

  She felt comfortable here in Nashville.

  But she still wanted to be with Beau.

  “When he was my boyfriend,” she started, the words coming out slowly in the middle of her range. “The sky shone the deepest blue. The wind hummed a merry tune. When he was my boyfriend….”

  “Oh, chicken and biscuits,” Vi said, and Lily cut off the next part. She looked at Rose and then Lily, her eyes wide.

  “What?” Lily and Rose asked in tandem.

  “She’s in love with him.” Vi giggled and clapped, her glee almost sending Lily into a rage.

  “That’s not true,” she said quickly, glancing at Rose as if her younger sister would be able to tell if Lily loved Beau just by looking at her.

  Did she love Beau?

  Of course she did.

  The guitar thunked on the ground as she let it slip from her grasp. She sucked in a breath, and Rose said, “Oh, my heck. You’re in love with him!”

  A fresh set of tears pricked her eyes, but Lily was so sick of crying. “So what if I am? It doesn’t change anything.”

  “Oh, honey, of course it does.” Vi tapped on her phone a few times, hopefully to stop the recording, and got up. She took the guitar from Lily and set it aside so she could put her arm around Lily’s shoulders.

  “All right,” she said. “Songs later. Tell us how you’re going to make up with Beau.”

  Lily blinked at her. “I’m—what? You think I should make up with him?”

  “Of course, silly,” Rose said. “If you love him, you should be with him.”

  “He lives in Wyoming. You guys know that right? It’s like, two thousand miles from here.”

  “Does he love you too?” Vi asked, which only made Lily’s head swim. And then spin. And then sink.

  “I don’t know,” she whispered. He’d said a lot of things, but never those three words. “I left him there.” She glanced from one sister to another. “Do you think he could forgive that?”

  “Well, you’ve told us precious little about him,” Vi said as if she were the Queen of England. “Do sit a spell and tell us more, and then we’ll help you decide.”

  “I know!” Rose clapped her hands. “You could write him a song.” Her eager eyes switched from Lily to Vi. “To make up with him. She needs to write him a love song.”

  Twenty-One

  Beau stared at the heaps of boxes he’d brought in from the garage. They held glass balls in an assortment of colors and sizes, but Beau couldn’t get himself to even get one out. And hanging enough on the twenty-foot tree to make it look festive? That so wasn’t happening.

  He turned away from the tree, bypassed the kitchen, and went right on outside. He’d already been down to the stables that morning, but his feet took him there again. Bareback wanted to go riding, but the thick snow made it impossible. The best Beau could do in winters like these was try to keep the outdoor arena clear, but he’d even stopped doing that this year.

  So he stroked the horse, unable to even disclose why he’d come again. Somehow the horse knew, and he pressed his nose into Beau’s shoulder.

  Beau’s phone rang, and he wanted to ignore it. Ignore life. Ignore everything. Instead, he pulled the device from his coat pocket and checked it.

  A California number. His heart bobbed to the back of his throat, and he swiped the call on quickly.

  “Beau Whittaker,” he said in his best lawyer voice, the one he used to use when he had an office on Main Street.

  “Hello, Mister Whittaker, this is Hilary Clark from the Los Angeles Civil Court. Are you able to attend a hearing on December twenty-third?”

  “This December twenty-third?” Beau turned as if he’d find a calendar hanging on the wall of the barn. “Like, in three days?”

  “Yes, sir, we realize it’s short notice, but a sp
ot came up on the judge’s calendar.”

  “Absolutely,” Beau said, thinking maybe he’d call Eli and just spend the holidays in warmer weather. Skip the tree lighting completely. Ignore his life, like he’d just been hoping he could. “I can be there.”

  “Excellent, I’ll put you on Judge Finley’s schedule.”

  “Does the defendant need to be there?” he asked.

  “Not if you have the sworn statements,” she said. “Though it could help if she was. It’s your call.”

  “Thank you.” Beau listened to a few more details, promised to check his email that would have a message confirming everything, and hung up. He glanced around at the horses, his mind spinning.

  “I should tell Lily, shouldn’t I?” he asked them.

  None of them answered. He closed his eyes and prayed to know what to do, but God apparently wanted Beau to make this decision himself, because he didn’t get an answer either way.

  Instead of deciding, he went up to the house and booked a flight for the following morning. Packed a bag. Called his mother. Texted Eli—who would be in Colorado to see his wife’s mother.

  And when Beau boarded the plane the next morning, the Christmas tree at Whiskey Mountain Lodge was still void of a single ornament.

  December twenty-third dawned bright and beautiful, the sound of ocean waves in the back of Beau’s mind. This had not been like any December Beau had ever known, and he wondered why in the world he lived in Wyoming.

  He enjoyed a morning stroll down the beach, though the wind was whippy and chilly. After dressing in his best suit and double and then triple checking for the files he needed, he called a car service so he could get to court on time.

  He had not called, texted, or emailed Lily about the hearing. He’d win, and then he’d let her know everything was over and done. He’d send a bill and be done with her.

  His chest squeezed at the thought, and his heart flopped around like a fish out of water. But he’d do it, because she’d been very clear in her decision. She had also not called, texted, or emailed him since driving out of his life. Fine, she had once, just to let him know that he could send an email to yet another address and she’d be checking it regularly.