That makes up the total sum of our personal possessions.
I remember the lesson we’re in the middle of. “Tomorrow morning when we wake up, we’re going to ride in my boss’s airplane,” I say as she squeals and scurries across the bed with her arms stretched out as if she’s the plane, “all the way to Denver, Colorado.”
She bounces back to me and traces my finger down and lands on Denver.
“Are you going to put a yellow mark on it?” she asks innocently.
“Nope. It doesn’t get a yellow mark.” I leave the bed to finish our packing.
“We’re not going to live there, though, right? We’re going to come back home … right?” Her little voice stings my heart.
“We’ll come back,” I say without looking at her.
“I’m going to brush my teeth and get in my jammies!” Charlie screams way too loud, leaps off the bed and airplanes it to the bathroom.
Breathing deeply through my nose, I fill my lungs with air. I stop packing and regard the map. There is a lot of yellow on it. The yellow marker represents where Charlie and I have lived. It’s complicated. For the first two years of her life, we moved to a new state every month. That required us to live in short term lease apartments or hotels—and those usually weren’t in the nicest sections of town. We stayed to ourselves, I used a new alias for every move, and I used an online program from a state university in Connecticut (where I had lived originally with my dad before he passed away, so I could claim residency). After that I found a mail service I could use as a personal address. It was legal—I still paid taxes to Connecticut—and they sent me my mail wherever I was. So we survived on my school loans and grants. I studied and got good grades and even received some scholarships.
One thing I kept consistent—Charlotte. Depending where we went, it was either Charlotte, Lettie, Harley, and then when she could say her own name it became Charlie—a cute girl’s name that could easily be a boy’s. It was important for her anonymity.
Charlie crashes into my legs and wraps me into a hug.
“What’s this hug for, ladybug?”
“Because I love you.”
“I love you too.” I hug her back. “Climb up and get under the covers.”
She does. I close our suitcase and crawl in next to her. She snuggles close, but my mind doesn’t slow down.
I’d obtained enough credits for an associate’s degree and really needed a fast-track career for the money for us to live. School loans did not give us enough. I heard of Williston, North Dakota, the booming, almost Wild West-like city that was offering workers in the area extravagant wages. I transferred my credits, put Charlie in a daycare close to the college and, in another six months, earned an Associate of Science degree with a certificate in massage therapy while I worked part time at Walmart.
The job at the hospital was like a dream come true. Then two months later, Josh North offered me the fantasy job of a lifetime! If it works out I could even afford our own place where Charlie could have her own room.
My excitement and sense of security shifts as the idea makes a metallic taste come up into my mouth. We’ve already been in Williston for almost a year. How much longer can I get away with not running?
I don’t want to think of the answer.
When we have to leave here, it’s going to be difficult for her. This is the place Charlie considers home.
*****
Once we get through security, a man wearing a suit and standing in front of an airport buggy holds up a sign that reads, Sophie and Charlie.
“That’s us,” I say as I kneel down to retie Charlie’s shoes. Charlie’s new nanny, Brittani, stands back. She knows that when I’m present, I’m a hands-on mom.
I was seriously nervous about choosing a nanny, but Brittani came with excellent references—she just earned her degree in early childhood education and happens to be McGee’s niece.
Suit man smiles. “I’m your ride out to the tarmac.” He picks up our suitcases and sets them in the back of the buggy.
Charlie’s so excited, and she pulls on my arm to hurry me up.
We’re escorted to the other side of the airport before the driver continues through a gated area that leads us outside. December in North Dakota is not for the faint of heart. It’s freezing and a light snow is falling softly from the cloud-covered sky.
“Here we are,” the man announces.
I let my gaze travel from the pristine private jet to Josh North, who stands at the bottom of the passenger staircase with the largest pink stuffed teddy bear I have ever seen.
A warmth spreads through me that I wasn’t prepared for. Josh is 6’3” and 205 pounds of pure chiseled muscle; he’s a powerful fighting machine, and here he is wearing a black North Face coat, distressed denim jeans and rugged work boots while holding this massive, fluffy, pink bear.
Our driver stops. Charlie is staring in wide-eyed awe at Josh and his offering. I pull myself from the buggy and lift Charlie to the ground. She stands close by my side, unsure of her next move.
Josh drops to one knee to get on her level. “You must be Charlie! I’m so happy to meet you. I’m Josh. I work with your mom.”
Damn that boyish smile. It betrays a side of him that can be tender and gentle.
“I like your bear,” Charlie says, peeking from behind my leg.
“Oh, this isn’t my bear,” Josh states. He turns the bear’s face toward his own ear and acts as if he’s listening intently to the secret the bear is sharing. “She says she’s here to play with you on the plane ride.”
“Really?” Charlie’s smile grows instantly.
“Yep, and if you like her, you could even bring her home and keep her.”
“Wow!” Charlie breaks free of me and runs, throwing her arms around the teddy bear’s neck and squeezing for all she’s worth.
I smile as I walk closer. “It’s going to need its own seat.”
“You’re probably right,” Josh laughs and then says a friendly hello to Brittani.
As we ascend the stairs and board the plane, the captain and co-pilot greet us, along with one stewardess who leads us to our seats. The jet is luxurious with subtle leather seats and couches and tables or trays next to them.
I’m surprised we’re alone. “Where’s the team?”
“McGee and Caruso have already been in Denver the past few days getting things prepared, and Silva’s in a meeting with someone, somewhere,” he says. “Where would you like to sit?”
Charlie runs and flings herself and the bear onto the couch. She rolls, giggling, and tangles her arms and legs around the new toy.
“Charlie looks happy,” Josh says, obviously proud of himself.
“Yeah, she does.”
Josh holds his hand out to a comfortable looking armchair that faces another. I nod and unzip my coat.
“Please, let me.” Josh quickly moves behind me and helps me slip the coat off before setting it aside.
I sit and watch, a little hypnotized, as he de-shoulders his own coat then pulls his Bronco’s sweatshirt over his head. When he does, his t-shirt gets pulled up underneath it.
It doesn’t matter how many times I see him half naked, I’m swept away each and every time. His eight pack abs ripple and his chest flexes with his effort. As he stretches taller, the waist of his jeans dips low, revealing that sensual V-line—or Adonis Belt—like an arrow pointing downward to his …
I rip my eyes away just as his head resurfaces.
He tosses the clothes on the seat behind him and takes the seat opposite me. His black t-shirt clings to him.
I clear my throat. “How long is the flight?”
“Just a little over an hour. It’ll give us some time to talk.”
I see and talk to Josh every day, so why do I feel nervous?
We all buckle in for takeoff and, once we’re in the air, Britt takes Charlie over to seats that face a table to put together some puzzles.
“I wanted to tell you about what the itinerary fo
r this trip looks like.” Josh takes some papers out of a briefcase that’s beside his seat. “Today and tomorrow are strictly training days—grueling and intensive. Time with you is going to be the best parts of those days.” He says this, and it fills my stomach with butterflies. What exactly does he mean?
He continues, “Friday and Saturday mornings and afternoons are packed with promos and photo shoots. They’re boring but you’re welcome to come. Friday and Saturday nights however are significantly important. Friday night is Denver’s Imagine There’s No Hunger event at Hard Rock Café. It’s casual attire, and a lot of Grammy award winning performers will be there. Saturday evening, Nike is holding a sport’s celebrity benefit auction at the Denver Performing Arts Complex. It’s a formal black tie occasion.” He pauses for a moment while he studies me cautiously. “I was wondering if you’d accompany me.”
I can’t find my voice.
“Don’t say anything if you’re thinking no.” He lifts his hand. “Just let the idea set a bit. You’d have a blast, these events are really exciting,” he persuades then lays his hand over his heart. “I’d be the perfect gentleman,” Josh swears, but a mischievous spark lights his eyes as he leans in closer to me. “And when’s the last time you did something really fun?”
I haven’t had fun for years, I think.
“I’m really camera shy,” I lie. Well, not a lie exactly—I just don’t mention the reason I’m camera shy.
“Then I’ll protect you from the photographers.” He smiles as if I said yes simply by contemplating it. “The only photographers will be at the red carpet entrance, but I know other ways into both buildings, and the photographers aren’t permitted into the events. So you won’t have to worry about that.”
“Uh …” Am I going to make a bigger deal out of this than it is? He’s not hitting on me; he’s only asking me to some really fun sounding parties. “I don’t have anything to wear to either event,” I respond finally. I’m stalling and I know it.
“Hell, you have all kinds of shopping options in Denver. And to sweeten the deal, you can buy the clothes on the company’s dime.” He winks. He has it all figured out.
“Let me think about it.”
“Alright, but don’t wait too long—” He’s about to say something else when his cell phone goes off. He snatches it from his pocket, looks at the screen, annoyed, then back to me, apologetically. “I have to take it.”
I nod.
Josh answers, “Hey, Silva.” He stands and walks away down the aisle.
I lean back against the seat and peer out the window into the clear blue sky that surrounds me. I feel my eyes slowly close. The safety I feel up in the air and being here with Josh is unprecedented.
*****
I wake as the plane lurches forward. I feel the familiar sensation of landing and open my eyes.
Josh is looking at me with softness in his eyes. “Sorry. You looked so peaceful that I couldn’t wake you.”
I feel a little embarrassed and a little flattered, and I’m really hoping I hadn’t snored. I stretch and say, “Sorry, I think you had more you wanted to talk about.”
“That’s okay, we’ll get another shot.”
In that moment, Charlie runs over to us and, to my utter shock and surprise, leaps up into Josh’s lap!
“Will you hold my hand off the plane, Joshy?”
“You bet!” “Joshy” answers and taps the tip of her nose with his fingertip.
Charlie giggles.
“How long was I asleep?”
“Long enough for Charlie and me to get to know each other better.”
“Mommy, we played Go Fish and I won!” Charlie crows. “We played dollies too. Joshy was Prince Charming.”
Of course he was. “I’m so happy you had fun.” I reach out my arms and she tumbles happily into them. I wrap her in an overprotective hug, but keep my face light when I look over her shoulder to Josh, who looks like he just had the time of his life.
*****
After we all check into the hotel—the Four Seasons, actually—McGee whisks me and Josh away to the training center. The place is huge, three times the size of the facility in Williston. It’s packed with people, and Josh keeps me close at his side this time until formal announcements and introductions are made.
Josh speaks into my ear, “I have to go in the back and get suited up. Angie at the front desk is good-people. Get to know her; she’ll give you the ins and outs and politics of the place.
I nod. “Got it.”
It feels like a new sense of trust has developed between the two of us. I’d swear he can see when I’m uncomfortable, and he seems to know just what to do to help me feel more at ease.
Walking toward the front desk, the men and the women regard me with complete respect. I smile or nod politely back, realizing the depth of their devotion to Josh.
“Hey, girly! I’m Angie. Anything I can do for you, just let me know,” the blond-haired, blue-eyed woman who looks about the same age as me says and thrusts her hand out.
“Nice to meet you.” I shake her hand.
She looks around us and sees there are no prying ears close by before she says in a hushed tone, “So how long have you been working for Josh?”
“Less than a month.”
She sizes me up a bit, then tells me, “You’re the first woman masseuse he’s ever had on his team. You must be good.”
“Thanks.”
“Here, come around the desk, I have an extra stool. You can keep me company.”
“How long have you worked here?” I make conversation as I sit down.
“Going on four years. It’s a great place to work, plus I get to be around my hubby more.” She nods her head, indicating a muscled-up man who’s working on a teardrop shaped boxing bag. “Got to make sure the ladies are behaving themselves.” She winks.
“The guy who looks like Charlie Hunnam?” My eyes do a double-take.
She laughs loudly. “That’s my honey! He actually works as a stunt double for the real-life Charlie Hunnam.”
“No way! You know him personally? Sons of Anarchy is one of my favorite shows.”
“Yeah, he’s a really cool guy.” She smiles toward her man. “But his stunt double—holy shit, he’s hot!” She fans herself with her hand.
“Zero argument from me; the resemblance is wicked uncanny.” And it is.
“Where did you meet Josh?”
“Williston. He busted himself up pretty good during a house fire and was in the hospital for a while.”
“Sounds like Josh.” She peers at me sideways. “You’re not from Williston though.”
My heart pounds.
“My aunt is from Boston. You have a bit of that accent.”
I smile with relief. “Yeah, I lived in Massachusetts for a time. Must have picked it up.” So she wouldn’t ask any more about me, I say, “Are you from Denver?”
“Nope, met Cam in Hollywood. I was working as an extra on a movie he was stunting in. It was love at first sight,” she answers. “Josh was called in for his fighting expertise and did some on-set training and choreography with Charlie and Cam for a while. Now Cam and I have a second home out here so he can train under the same gurus who work with Josh.”
“That’s exciting.”
I’m immediately distracted from the conversation as I see Josh come out from the back wearing nothing but a pair of skin-hugging red shorts. His leg muscles are cut and corded in all the right places. He’s barefoot. Josh has beautiful feet. His hands are wrapped with red tape. As he comes out of the hallway into the main area, I watch as he directs his gaze to the front desk. My heart skips when those rich, brown eyes meet mine. His expression, which holds what looks like concern, melts a bit into relief. He redirects his focus to the sparring opponent that waits in the ring to warm him up.
“Are you guys a couple?” Angie asks, startling me back to reality.
That was personal. “No.” I shake my head. “Not a couple.”
“Well
, I think he would be if you wanted to,” she says matter-of-factly.
My brows pinch down. “Why do you say that?”
“Um, because he watched to make sure you got over to me before he took off into the back, and now that he’s back out, he’s checking on you again.” She tilts her head to look into my face and, in doing so, forces me to look at her. “I’ve never seen him so attentive.”
That’s easy to explain. “Some jerk in Williston tried putting his hands on me at the gym on my first day. Josh made sure no one would do it again.” I can’t help but smile at the memory of the guy going down to his knees. “That’s all he’s thinking about.”
“Yeah, okay. If you say so,” Angie quips curtly. “Want to grab lunch with me?”
“I would, but I should stay for now in case they need me.”
“Do you like Chinese?”
“Love it.”
“Good, I’ll grab takeout. There isn’t much estrogen in this place. It’ll be nice to have a new friend,” Angie says. “I’ll be back in a bit.”
“Sounds good.”
Angie hops away from the desk, grabs her coat and purse from the back of her chair and rushes off.
Friends. I was definitely in short supply of those.
*****
“Oh my God, Silva is trying to kill me,” Josh whines as I press my fingers into his back, scrolling over his ribs.
“I think it’s a conspiracy,” I agree with a smile.
“Yeah, he wants to get rid of me so McGee can take my fights. They’ll rename it the EUFC.”
“What’s that acronym mean?” I chuckle.
“Elderly Ultimate Fighting Championship.” He laughs at his joke.
“Come on now, be nice. Dan Henderson is 44. That’s not so old.”
“You know that?” He sounds astounded.
“If I’m going to work for a UFC champion fighter I think I should know a little bit about the sport.” I smile, proud of myself. “McGee could be a contender.”
“Don’t tell me you’re on their side?” he groans.
I laugh. “No way, I’m no traitor.”
I warm Mandarin orange and other invigorating citrus essential oils mixed with organic coconut oil in between my palms before I spread it onto Josh’s lower back. The scent is divine.
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