Love on the Run (Pine Harbour Book 5)

by Zoe York

The hallway was full of people, but she made noises about heading to the tour bus, then kept on walking, finding a cab on the app on her phone.

  The last thing she did before she told the driver to take her to the airport was send a text message to Jackie. I’m taking off for a couple of days. Going to see Hope. Don’t tell anyone where I am.

  Chapter Three

  Canada Day

  Pine Harbour, Ontario

  * * *

  DEAN Foster knew better than to worry about his brothers.

  They were all grown-ups, after all.

  Gainfully employed.

  Jake was even having a baby. Matt and Sean weren’t anywhere near being that adult, but they worked hard and played hard and Dean hadn’t had to take care of either of them for nearly a decade.

  But you never turned off the worried older brother instincts. Not when you were all they really had.

  And the tightness at the back of his neck told him something was wrong with Sean—more than the usual emotional shit that stewed in the twenty-six-year-old’s head.

  He’d tried to find out what was going on when they went for a run early that morning. Sean blew him off, swore up and down it was just work stuff. So Dean asked Matt if he knew anything as they set up tables in the Pine Harbour Park for the annual BBQ.

  “He’s just being moody,” Matt said, his attention on their task at hand.

  “More than usual.”

  “Maybe he’s getting his period.”

  “That’s not funny.”

  “Only because you don’t have a sense of humour.”

  That wasn’t true at all. Or not completely, at least. “He’s hiding something.”

  “It’s not drugs.”

  Dean rolled his eyes. “I didn’t think it was, but thanks for telling me where your head is at.”

  Matt flipped him the bird. “Eff you, too.”

  “So you do know what’s going on.”

  “You should talk to Sean.”

  “I tried.”

  “Okay, you should try to talk to him like a brother, and not a father.”

  “I don’t—” But he did worry about them like a parent. Not a father, really. They had one of those. More like the mother they lost way too young.

  Turned out, Dean wasn’t as naturally nurturing as they’d needed.

  He’d tried, damn it. But times like this, he failed pretty hard. “Maybe I’ll get Dani to talk to him.”

  “That’s a good idea. Stress out the pregnant woman.”

  Shit. Right. Hey… “So it’s something stressful?”

  Matt laughed. “Seriously, it’s your first day of being your own man. Take a knee. Have a beer. Trust that whatever Sean’s stewing about is going to be there tomorrow and you can enjoy the bloody holiday like the rest of us.”

  That didn’t sound like a feasible plan at all. “I’ll talk to Dani in a non-alarmist way.”

  “Whatever. Good luck. Remember to try and have fun.”

  That was Matt’s motto in life: have fun. Dean’s motto…well, until yesterday, it had been the motto of the provincial police, where he’d worked for eighteen years. A personal motto?

  Dean didn’t have one. He didn’t really have a personal anything.

  He had work, and his brothers, and carefully constructed relationships that allowed him release and escape when he needed it—and ensured zero extra responsibility, because he sure as shit didn’t need that.

  A pang of guilt lanced through him. His brothers weren’t a responsibility he resented. He watched Matt amble toward the tent where the Legion ladies were setting up cold drinks and bowls of potato chips.

  For all his muttered concern, he was damn proud of the men his brothers had grown into.

  And he knew he needed to let go of the irrational worry that brewed deep in his gut when it came to them. But it was hard. He’d basically raised them for six long, anxious years. And when he’d made the agonizing decision to go to Police College and leave Pine Harbour for a year—that turned into four when his first OPP posting had been further up north—he’d done so only after making sure that every adult member of their tiny community was watching out for his brothers.

  Because their father sure as shit hadn’t been.

  The Colonel had only been there for them in the strictest sense. A financial provider. Someone to pay the bills. But he’d never made a school lunch or read a bedtime story. Never really given two shits about what time Matt came home, or Sean woke up.

  Part of Dean had hoped that when he went south for college, their father would step up and fill the gap. Instead, it’d been Jake who’d taken a turn at parenting the youngest two Foster brothers.

  When Dean left Pine Harbour, his next younger brother had been a gangling teenager. When he’d come back, Jake had sprouted into a young man, intent on a career in construction and ready to join the army reserves just like Dean had.

  And when Matt and Sean each turned seventeen, they did the same. Following in the Colonel’s footsteps, despite everything.

  How would their lives have been different if their mother had lived?

  Across the park, Jake’s familiar green pick-up truck pulled into the lot. Jake wasn’t that much like their father, actually. He’d be an amazing, hands-on dad to the baby his wife Dani was currently carrying. As sappy as it was, even Dean could say that Jake had managed to figure out how to have a healthy, fulfilling relationship—something Dean had never even tried, Matt skillfully avoided, and Sean…well, who wanted to fall in love with an asshole?

  Jake was also the only one out of the four of them that had what could be called a good relationship with the old man.

  Matt would probably say he did. Dean would beg to differ—avoiding all conflict was not the same thing as not being in conflict.

  And Sean made Dean’s strained relationship with the Colonel look downright cozy.

  The similarities between Dean and his youngest brother pained him. It was one thing to be a fearful, mistrusting jerk at twenty-six. It was another at thirty-seven. There was a reason Dean avoided psychoanalyzing himself—he never liked where it took him.

  * * *

  — —

  * * *

  The party was well under way by the time Dean made it to the coolers to grab his first beer. Almost everyone was there. Rafe and Olivia Minelli with their daughter Sophie, Ryan’s entire family—which reminded Dean he still hadn’t explained to the other man about stopping there the day before. Jake and Dani, and Dani’s older brother Zander, Dean’s new business partner. They needed to sit down at some point today, too, since it was Dean’s official first day on the new job.

  But right now, Zander was otherwise occupied, one arm wrapped around his fiancé and the other clasped firmly on the shoulder of his future step-son.

  Another man who’d found the kind of love that terrified Dean to his very core.

  He looked at these women that his brother and friends had fallen for, and he saw the worst case scenario—illness, loss, grief so intense it would immobilize them. It didn’t matter that it was completely irrational.

  He looked at a man in love and saw his father, broken-hearted and useless. Then later, cold and removed.

  Dean knew that he’d go down that same road, if he let himself. And that wasn’t worth the risk.

  But he admired Zander—and Jake, and Rafe, and Ryan—for putting their families first. He could identify with that, if in a different way. For the last twenty-five years, since his mother passed when he was twelve, he’d been putting his siblings first.

  And he always would.

  But there was a limit to how much responsibility one man could bear and still keep a sense of self. Dean knew his limits.

  He strolled over to the back of his pick-up truck and hopped onto the tailgate.

  Zander materialized in front of him.

  “Speak of the devil,” Dean said, grinning at his partner. “I was just thinking about finding you.”

  “We’ve got a potent
ial client.” That was fantastic news. But Zander’s voice was full of wary caution, and he was glancing around the party like he was looking for something—or someone.

  “What’s the catch?” His pulse thudded with anticipation. What did it say about him that he was relieved to have the distraction of work on what should have been a day off?

  Zander grimaced. “It’s complicated.”

  “How so?”

  “The client is expected to be reluctant.”

  “How reluctant?”

  “She wasn’t the one who hired us.”

  “Ah.”

  “Aren’t you going to ask me who it is?”

  “I figure you’re drawing this out for a reason.”

  Zander snorted. “Yeah.” He scrubbed his hand over his jaw. “Liana Hansen.”

  Dean’s eyebrows shot up, probably all the way to his hairline. Shit.

  She’d be a seriously A-list client…if she wanted them to work for her. And the way their accidental meeting had gone the day before, he wasn’t sure about that in the least.

  He’d been thinking about her ever since.

  Something had been missing yesterday. Like she was a puzzle and he only saw some of the pieces.

  Which made sense, because he didn’t really know anything about her. Of course the town whispered, but he didn’t pay any attention to gossip.

  Most of the time.

  So yeah, he’d heard things. People could be mean, and her ex-fiancé was a superstar. In their break-up, she’d gotten the blame, apparently.

  All of that was hard to reconcile with the woman who’d looked at him, eyes wide and face pale, like she was scared—and maybe needed a bodyguard.

  Another puzzle piece, maybe.

  “So Hope has hired us?” He re-focused his attention on Zander. His partner looked like Dean felt—ready for this. “What’s the plan?”

  “She wants us to meet with Liana.”

  “Okay. I can do that.” Tomorrow, he told himself. He lifted the beer again and tipped it against his mouth. Boundaries needed to be maintained so he didn’t burn out of this career like he had the last one.

  Zander snatched it out of his hand. “Can’t wait. She needs to be on a plane tomorrow. Day after at the very latest. She’s got a concert in Washington, D.C. on the fourth of July, and a dress rehearsal for it on the third.”

  Well, that sounded like a problem. And she was reluctant…yeah, this would take some time.

  Dean took a deep breath. He never could say no to someone needing his help.

  Even if that someone was distractingly gorgeous and he’d had an awkward encounter with her that nobody else knew about.

  It didn’t matter. He was in. “Where will I find our new client?”

  “She’s hiding at Hope’s house.”

  * * *

  — —

  * * *

  On the eight-minute drive out of town to the Howard-Creswell home, Dean tried to think of all the possible ways this meeting could go. None of the ways it played out in his mind went that well, to be honest. They all stumbled around the point in the conversation where they either acknowledged or ignored the elephant in the room of her having invited him inside for an entirely different reason.

  But that was off the table now, so he needed to focus on why she needed security consultants.

  Did she just need muscle? It wasn’t the long-term business vision he had, but he was tall and wide and knew how to look menacing. He could work with that.

  Maybe she’d been threatened. He certainly knew how to run an investigation. But so did others…why come all the way up here if that was the case? And she shouldn’t be traveling alone if she was in danger.

  He frowned.

  Why had she come up here?

  He hopped out of his truck and walked up to the front door and knocked. Only one way to find out.

  The front curtain shifted, and he stepped back, letting her get a good look at him. He might not be wearing his uniform, but the same instincts kicked in.

  It took her long enough to open the door that he figured she’d given not opening it a solid consideration. The handle turned, slowly, and then his client stepped into view.

  “You again,” she said softly.

  “Yes.”

  “To what do I owe this pleasure?” He didn’t miss that her foot had nudged behind the door so he couldn’t push it open.

  He’d made a great impression the day before, clearly. “Hope asked me to come out and speak to you.”

  “About what?”

  “Security of some description.”

  “You’re a cop.”

  “I freelance.”

  “There’s been a misunderstanding. I don’t need any security.”

  He stepped back. “Maybe you should call Hope?” Her gaze flicked past him, over his shoulder, and he turned around. Hope’s car pulled into the drive. “Ah, okay, there she—”

  Behind him, the door shut with a firm click.

  “—is,” he finished to himself. He crossed his arms and waited for Hope to join him on the porch.

  “Hey,” she said as she jogged up to him. “I’m sorry I didn’t get here before you.”

  “No worries. But …” he jacked his thumb over his shoulder, pointing at the front door. “I take it she wasn’t expecting me?”

  Hope gave him an apologetic smile that probably worked wonders on Ryan. It didn’t move Dean in the least. “Possibly yes.”

  He crossed his arms over his chest. “What’s going on, Hope?”

  Her smile shifted to something more sheepish. “Let’s go inside.” She reached for the door handle, but the door didn’t open when she turned it. She tried again, then started to laugh.

  Dean didn’t see how it was funny. The woman on the other side was quickly proving to be difficult.

  “Liana!” Hope raised her voice and knocked. “Don’t be like that!”

  Thud. Something heavy hit the other side.

  Great. Now she was resorting to violence to make her point that she wanted to be left alone.

  Too bad being left alone probably wasn’t an option, because he was down with turning around and heading back into town.

  He sighed and rubbed his jaw. Not the right attitude in the least. Giving them some space, on the other hand… “You want me to come back later?”

  Hope shook her head. “We don’t have a lot of time.”

  “So Zander said.”

  She nodded, a worried look rippling across her refined features. “She needs to be on a plane to Washington tomorrow.”

  “This is for a concert, right? Can she get out of it?” Maybe the woman was unhinged. She’d said she wanted a break from reality. Maybe she needed a trip to one of those fancy-people rehab centres, if only to hide from the world for a bit. “Call it exhaustion. Make up some excuse.”

  “It’s complicated.” Hope rubbed her fingers against the furrow that had taken up residence between her eyebrows.

  That was becoming a standard refrain. “I’m not sure what we can do here if she won’t even talk to me. What’s the problem, exactly?”

  “I think she just needs to know that she’s got someone watching her back.”

  “Is she in danger?”

  The door swung open, Liana standing in the triangle of open space. Hope stepped in and gave her a quick hug, whispering something that made Liana scowl. Her hand was braced on the edge of the door, like she planned to slam it in his face any second.

  He held out his hand, trying again for the introduction they didn’t get through the first time. “Ma’am, I’m Dean Foster.”

  She glared at him. “Don’t call me ma’am, seriously. And don’t talk about me on the other side of a door. I’m not deaf or stupid.”

  Right. “My apologies on every count. As I was just saying to Hope, I’d like to help.”

  “I don’t need a bodyguard.”

  No, you need a shrink, he wanted to retort. Instead he said, “Sure, of course not.”
/>   “So go away.”

  Something about her made him want to do battle. Not against her, exactly, but since she was poking at him…“Aren’t you the one who’s supposed to go somewhere?”

  She slammed the door in his face.

  Well, at least he’d called that one accurately.

  Chapter Four

  “WHAT…Why…How did you think it would be a good idea to bring that man into my business?” Liana asked, her pulse racing as Hope approached her across the living room—much like one would approach a cornered wild animal, she imagined.

  Great, her best friend thought she might be rabid.

  But Hope had looped a total stranger in on Liana’s freak-out, and that wasn’t cool.

  “That’s Dean,” her best friend said softly. “He’s worked with Ryan in the army reserves for a long time. He’s a good guy.”

  He was a cop, and a soldier? And he did “freelance security?” Ryan had some badass friends, apparently. Liana frowned. But that didn’t make them trustworthy.

  If it were any other day, any other year, she’d have been all over “meeting” Dean. He was tall and broad and good-looking in that will-only-get-better-with-age kind of way. Classic, rugged outdoorsy kind of hot.

  Exactly her type.

  She narrowed her eyes at Hope, who didn’t seem to notice. “What exactly are you doing?”

  “I thought you might need protection or something…” Hope trailed off, worry dripping off her words.

  Liana’s mouth dropped open. Oh. Was concern for her safety better than matchmaking? Yes, probably. But way more complicated. “You think I need a bodyguard?”

  “Sweetie, you showed up out of the blue, when you’re supposed to be on tour. And you’re about to do a concert with Track. And I’m not an idiot, right?”

  With a frustrated huff, Liana puffed out her cheeks and started pacing. “I don’t think you’re an idiot.”

  “So you wanna tell me what’s wrong, exactly?”

  “No.” And not because she didn’t trust Hope. They were practically sisters. The actress had come to Nashville to research a part, eight years earlier, and they’d clicked hard. Liana had been fresh out of her break-up and had a big empty house. Hope had needed a place to crash.