Sweet Talker

by Robin Bielman

  “Mm-hmm. The lion I never understood. The German shepherd dream stemmed from our neighbor’s dog. He didn’t like kids and one day he got loose just as I was walking by the house. He chased me home and I barely made it into the house before he took a huge chunk out of my rear end. I was terrified.”

  “And in your dream, he’s flying?”

  “Dreams plural. For a month, I kept dreaming about him. I think he flew because that gave me the power to outrun him for some reason. Which doesn’t make sense, since flight is faster than running, but it worked. And I love dogs now, even German shepherds.”

  “Mine were more of the someone breaking into the house variety.”

  “Makes sense, given who you are.”

  “What do you think your dream from last night means?”

  “That I’m indispensable?”

  “That goes without saying.” I put a plate with two crepes in front of her. Place the bowl with fresh strawberries and the tiny dish with powdered sugar close enough for her to reach. Syrup is also just an arm’s length away. I take my own plate and sit beside her.

  “Thank you. This looks great,” she says.

  “Back to the indispensable thing.” Now is as good a time as any to bring up what the future looks like for us. “Now that your bodyguard gig is up, what happens next?”

  She slowly slips her fork out of her mouth and places it on her plate as she chews.

  “I could hire you,” I say to fill the silence. It’s the first thing to come to mind.

  “As what exactly?”

  “We could keep things as they are. Restaurant manager and bodyguard.”

  “You want full-time protection now?”

  No. I want you.

  Okay, so this probably wasn’t the best time to have this conversation considering I haven’t given it a lot of thought. I know I don’t want her to walk away. I also know she’s my equal so saying I want to hire her might give her the wrong impression. Not that anyone who works for me isn’t my equal. But there is a balance of power that exists between a boss and employee. And that’s not what I want with Pascale.

  “I…” Normally, I never falter with my words. I’m in command at Royal, in business meetings, and at functions small and large. Around Callie, it’s hard to think straight. Or leave myself too open.

  “If it means being with you, yes,” I say.

  She twists in her seat. “Let me get this straight, you want me to be your bodyguard for real so we can hang out together when I’m not at the restaurant being your manager?”

  “Sounds about right.”

  “It has nothing to do with your safety?”

  “Correct.”

  “And in this scenario, do you see us kissing again?”

  Now she’s getting it. “Definitely.” I cut into my crepe, at ease with the direction our conversation is finally taking.

  “There’s a name for this, you know. And it has nothing to do with executive protection.”

  “What name is that?”

  She looks at me like I can’t possibly be that clueless. I shrug and take a bite of my crepe so she can fill me in.

  “Dating,” she says, eyebrows raised to emphasize how unaware I am, only she looks adorable so I don’t care how oblivious I seem. There’s also a spark in her eyes that tells me she wants to date me, too. We’ve got a second chance here, and we should take it.

  I turn in my chair so our knees touch. “Stay in LA and date me, Callie Nic.”

  Those pretty green eyes of her soften, but she says, “I don’t date my clients.”

  “No problem. I really don’t want a bodyguard.”

  “You date co-workers?”

  “If that means you’ll stay on as my manager then yes, I do. But I realize it’s not your real job, and that as soon as we find a replacement you’ll be leaving to protect someone else.”

  “I can’t promise that will be here in LA, Ethan.”

  I take her hand and hold it in my lap. She looks down. “I know,” I say. Sucks. But I do know. “So, give me until my time is up.” This time, knowing she’s leaving means I’ll keep my heart in check.

  However, I also plan to use that time to my advantage. To make her fall in love with me so she’ll want to figure out a way to have the job and the man. Then I’ll let my heart be all in.

  She raises her head. “I already planned to do that.”

  “Not only at the restaurant.”

  “Okay.”

  “Okay. Okay?”

  “Yes.”

  “Fantastic.” I lift her hand and press a smile to her skin as I kiss her knuckles.

  A phone sounds, the ring coming from inside the purse Callie left on the countertop last night. I release my hold reluctantly and she pulls her cell out of her bag. She makes a quizzical face at the number on the display.

  “Hello?”

  I hear the person on the other end ask if he’s reached Pascale Nichols.

  “Yes, this is she.”

  The man gives his name and says he’s an attorney, but I can’t make out the rest. As he continues to speak, all the color drains from Callie’s face. Her hand shakes. Her posture caves in. She shrivels before my very eyes, and I hate it. Whatever bad news she’s receiving, I hate and want to make it better. I move to wrap my arm around her shoulders, but she slides off the barstool and leaves the room.

  She doesn’t want me right now, she wants privacy. I sit and stew, waiting for her to return. Different scenarios play through my mind. Did something happen to her parents? Her sister? Another relative or a friend? From her reaction, it’s got to be personal.

  I wait another five minutes before I go find her. She’s sitting outside the family room on the terrace. I grab the blanket off the arm of the couch and then step outside. Clouds cover the sky and sit on the horizon this morning. The ocean is placid. A seagull gives a squawk overhead. I drape the blanket around her.

  There’s room on the chaise beside her so I take it. For a couple of minutes, the two of us stare quietly out to sea.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” I ask.

  She glances at me, her eyes filled with tears and her cheeks damp. Shit. She’s been silently crying while I spotted a few dolphins in the distance. I immediately take her in my arms and hold her tight. She wraps her arms around my middle and burrows into my chest. We stay like that for a while.

  “What happened?” I ask softly.

  It takes her a minute to lift away from me, and I appreciate that she’s willing to face me while we talk. She wipes at her eyes and takes a deep breath. I once again lace our fingers together. She’s not alone in this, whatever this is. She didn’t leave me a choice the last time she was hit with bad news, so this time I sure as hell am not letting her run.

  “I’m not even sure where to start,” she says.

  I squeeze her hand to let her know I’m not going anywhere. She can take her time.

  “You know my last assignment was with Ireland.”

  “Yes.”

  “She had a boyfriend. His name was Grant and he and I…” She presses the back of her free hand under her nose. “He and I developed feelings for each other. I was fired from the job because he kissed me and Ireland caught us.”

  I take a steadying breath. “Were you in love with him?”

  “No.”

  I’m relieved but sense a “but” coming.

  “But I did—I do love his daughter, Rylee. She’s four—” her eyes search the air for something “—almost five now. Her birthday is next month.”

  Is. Which means the little girl is okay and something must be up with Grant.

  “That was Grant’s attorney on the phone. He called to tell me Grant was in a car accident. He…he didn’t survive.”

  “I’m so sorry.” I give her a hug, not letting go until she pulls back.

  “Rylee was at school when it happened, so she’s okay.”

  “A blessing,” I say.

  “Yes.” She swallows like there’s a golf
ball in her throat. “I need to get on the first plane I can to Seattle.”

  “I can help with that. Have you on one of our private jets and wheels up as soon as we get clearance.”

  “No, that’s okay. I—”

  “I insist,” I interrupt. “A commercial flight will take probably twice as long with making a reservation, checking in and going through security.”

  “Okay. Thank you.” She seems to relax ever so slightly with that taken care of.

  “I’m happy to go with you. If you want.”

  She searches my face, considering what, I don’t know. My sincerity? Determination? Whatever it is, my pulse spikes. “I’m not sure how long I’ll be gone,” she says.

  It’s my turn to study her. “Is there something else?” Of course, there is. Grant’s attorney called. Not a friend or family member or his ex-girlfriend, Ireland.

  Callie nods. “It’s about Rylee.”

  I frown. “Was her mom in the car too?”

  “No, her mom left when Rylee was a baby. Signed over all parental rights and Grant never heard from her again.” Callie works a groove into her bottom lip, running her teeth over the soft, pink flesh. “Grant had no other immediate family.”

  She slips her hand free of mine, breaking our connection. I wait for her to elaborate, running through different scenarios in my head. “He’s named me Rylee’s legal guardian.”

  That was not one of them. “You had no idea?”

  “No.”

  “This means…” I trail off, feeling the nervous and worried energy radiating off her. I think this means Callie is about to become a parent, which no doubt changes everything.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Unexpectedly Yours

  Pascale

  I glance down at the text on my phone. Every day for the past two weeks Ethan has texted he’s thinking about me. It’s nice and it’s not. Because he’s thinking of me. Not me and the little girl who’s now under my care. Not that I should expect him to think about Rylee. He doesn’t know her. But I do wish he’d said something about her. She’s a part of me now—a blessing arising from unimaginable loss, and I’ll protect her and nurture her until my last breath.

  She waves to me from the sandbox in her backyard. I wave back through the window, my heart more full than empty. Being extremely precocious, she’s grasped her dad’s death better than I expected. She told me the other day, “Daddy is in heaven with the angels so we don’t have to worry about him.” She understands death is irreversible, and that Grant isn’t coming back. That permanence has understandably left its mark on her—she has moments of great sorrow, likes to know I’m close by, and has asked some tough questions about dying and the loss of life. Her teacher told me there is no right or wrong behavior and that children grieve their own way. Gradually, Rylee will overcome her sadness. The key is to always be open and honest with her. To be patient.

  I can do all that.

  When she’s older and asks about her dad’s accident, I’ll tell her the details. That he was driving through an intersection on his way to her school when a large sport utility vehicle struck his side of the car. The SUV driver had suffered a massive heart attack and went into cardiac arrest right before entering the intersection. It was no one’s fault. Just bad timing. Paramedics weren’t able to resuscitate Grant or the other driver.

  Rylee’s dark curls blow in the mid-morning breeze as she plays with a bucket, shovel, and her collection of plastic insects. It’s the first day since I arrived that the sun is shining, and we’re leaving. Thanks for the sendoff, Seattle.

  “The moving van is all packed,” my mom says, joining me at the window to watch Rylee.

  “Thanks, Mom.”

  She puts her arm around me. “You hated playing in the sand when you were little. You’d complain it got in your shoes and when I told you, you could take them off, you complained it got between your toes.”

  “I don’t remember that.”

  “Moms remember everything.”

  I suck in my bottom lip. Will I remember everything about Rylee from this day forward? The things she says and does. The silly moments and the hard ones. My phone vibrates in my hand, pulling me from pondering the question. It’s my dad texting to say things are moving along on his end and he hopes Rylee and I have a good flight. No doubt he’ll text my mom next to tell her to have a safe drive.

  My parents have been instrumental in getting me to the place I am right now. After Grant’s funeral, my mom, a retired attorney, flew out to help with any legal issues that may have come up with Grant’s will, but after meeting with the court, guardianship was a done deal. Grant left me his most precious belonging without any contingencies. He left everything else to Rylee.

  If my family had been here in Seattle, I would have stayed rather than uproot her from everything she knows. She’s never had grandparents or an aunt—Paige can’t wait to meet her—and while overwhelming, it’s also something warm and comforting and Rylee has taken to my mom with quiet certainty.

  Grant’s home sold in one day. The profit, along with every penny of Grant’s savings, is in a trust for Rylee. The moving van parked out front is loaded with everything from Rylee’s bedroom and a few other things she wanted to take with her. We donated all the other furnishings and household goods to charity. Clearing out Grant’s room was tough. My mom took Rylee to the park that afternoon so I could box up his clothes. I saved his personal items—his watch, cuff links, a fraternity pin and some other small mementos—to give to Rylee one day. All the framed pictures of the two of them are coming with us, too, so I can put them out.

  My dad has been at my house clearing out the guestroom and painting the walls seafoam green, just like Rylee had here. Mom’s driving the rented van to California. She insisted, for Rylee’s sake, saying an hour in a car, let alone eighteen, is too long for a young child. Paula Nichols rocks in case you haven’t figured that out yet.

  “I hope the kids moving in here enjoy the sandbox.”

  “You’re the only child I know who didn’t like sand, so I’m sure they will.” She gives me a squeeze before releasing her hold.

  “What if we don’t get along, Mom?” I ask, my gaze still on Rylee. She’s waving her little arm in the air with a butterfly in her hand, pretending the winged creature is flying.

  “You did before.”

  “It’s different now.”

  “I have no doubt you two will figure it out. She adores you.”

  “I don’t want to screw up.”

  “Oh, you will. More than once. Being a parent is the hardest job in the world and it doesn’t come with a manual so the only way we get through it is to do the best we can and know that sometimes we’ll falter and say or do the wrong thing. If you’re like me, which you are, you’ll beat yourself up and then you’ll get over it. Promise to do better next time. I did have the luxury of starting with a baby who didn’t talk back or have her own opinions yet. I grew into motherhood, while you’re wading into knee-high water. But you’ve got us, sweetie, to help whenever you need it.”

  “Thank goodness.”

  “I should probably hit the road,” she says. “I’ll see you in two days.”

  “Thanks so much for everything.” I give her a big hug.

  Leaning back, she gives me her stern, do-not-argue face. “You’ve got this.”

  I watch through the window as she scoops Rylee up in a loving embrace to say goodbye. Rylee goes willingly and my legs almost give out. This is happening. I’m taking that little girl home with me. I’m putting a roof over her head, food in her belly, clothes on her body, and my heart beside hers. I’ll go to bat for her. Watch over her. Die for her.

  In two short weeks, my love for her grew exponentially.

  It’s scary and thrilling at the same time.

  *

  Rylee is sound asleep in her booster seat in the back seat of my car. She conked out before we’d even left the airport parking garage. While a drive to catch our flight, some w
ait time, and a three-hour plane trip isn’t a big deal to me, apparently it tuckers out a four-year-old. I glance in the rearview mirror. Her head is tilted so far to the right I get a kink in my neck just looking at her. Her tiny mouth is slightly open. And her stuffed monkey is crammed securely under her arm.

  Despite the LA traffic, for the first time since I received the call from Grant’s lawyer fourteen days ago, I feel some tension leave my shoulders and upper back. My slice of heaven is only a few more miles away and I’m looking forward to Rylee making it her home, too.

  My phone rings through the Bluetooth, Serenity’s name popping up on the digital screen on the console.

  Another thing I’ve learned about four-year-olds—or at least my four-year-old—is that she’s a deep sleeper.

  My. She’s mine. My heart gives an especially forceful beat.

  I press the button to receive the call through the car speakers. “Hi, Ren.”

  “Hey, are you back?”

  “We are. Rylee’s passed out in the back seat and we’re about five minutes from the house.”

  “How are you?”

  “I’m a lot of things, but mostly I’m okay. It’s good to be home.”

  “Can I bring you guys over some dinner?”

  I glance at the clock on the dashboard. It’s a little after seven. “I think I’d like to keep it just the two of us for our first night together, but thanks for offering.”

  “I can’t wait to meet her,” Serenity says with atypical sweetness. Not that she isn’t a nice person—she is. She’s just missing the maternal gene. “And she better be as awesome as you say she is or I’m going to try harder to convince you to come back to work with me.” Ah, there’s the Ren I know and love.

  “She is.” I stop at a red light. Make a right.

  “Are you sure about this?”

  “About retiring from bodyguarding? Yes. I need to stay in one place now. And I need something that puts me at zero risk of harm.” My eyes flick to the rearview mirror again to peek at the little girl who’s changed my life.

  “Fine. Rylee can have you. But once a month we need to do drinks, at the very least.”