by Robin Leaf
“You said she’s changing her clothes?” I manage to say without tripping over my tongue.
Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he touches the screen. “That’s what she said, but she’s taking a while. Maybe she took a shower.” He rubs his chin and takes a second to read something on his phone. “She did just work a shift, and she looked… off. I know it’s the first time I’ve met her, but she seemed upset when I got here.”
I look to the bedroom door. “How long ago did she go to change?”
Not looking up, he answers casually, “Maybe like five minutes before you got here.”
“I’ve been here for ten minutes.” I stand, wiping my hands on my pants. “Does it usually take a woman fifteen minutes to change?”
He looks up at me, almost like he’s confused by the question. “I think every woman is dif–”
“Did you secure the suite when you got here?”
Noah shakes his head. “I didn’t think it was necessary to –”
“What if her stalker was in there waiting on her?” I ask, the dread making my heart pick up speed.
His eyes travel to the bedroom now. “Don’t you think we would have heard something?”
Moving closer to the bedroom door, I lean in, listening, and lower my voice. “Not if he knocked her out and took her out a window or something.”
I raise my hand to knock, but the door flies open before I can make contact. I sigh, relieved to have eyes on her. She’s drying her hair with a towel, and her hazel eyes slowly make their way to my face. I’m struck speechless by her simple beauty, a beauty I recognize. I smile, but her eyes flash huge and her brows raise, then furrow, right before she throws the towel at my chest and flies at me, fists balled, screaming unintelligible sounds, like some little vicious howler monkey on the attack.
I easily catch her, but not before her fist connects with my chin, making me bite the inside of my cheek, luckily not hard enough to draw blood.
“What the hell, Blue?” I grunt, turning her around and trapping her arms so she can’t inflict further damage.
“You’re stalking me, you fucking weirdo. And you stole my Beast.”
“I’m not your stalker. And what the hell’s a Beast?”
When I move to set her down, she takes the opportunity to slam her fucking head back into my jaw, luckily missing my nose, but it still causes me to drop her on her ass.
“Ember,” Noah says, snickering. He reaches out a hand to help her stand. “He’s with me… and he’s your new bodyguard. I assume you two have met before?” I nod, rubbing my jaw. Damn, she has a hard head. “Good, then you’ll have to excuse me. I need to call the office. May I step in here?”
She nods and watches him move to the bedroom as I assess what little damage she inflicted. Teaching her better self-defense moves is definitely on the agenda.
I watch her, really seeing her puffy, red eyes, pink cheeks, and runny nose, which tells me she’s been crying.
I forget about my pain and take a step toward her, but she retreats.
Raising my hands in surrender, I step back again and ask quietly, “What upset you?”
“You mean besides the stalker who’s forced me out of my home?” Her hands start fidgeting, clasping and unclasping as she speaks. “Well, let me see. I am stuck in this hotel. I slept a total of maybe thirty minutes last night due to the nightmares and crappy soundproofing on these walls. Oh, and I lost a patient today who is a regular in the ER, a four year old with a bad heart, who told his mom I was his favorite nurse ever right before he went into cardiac arrest. So forgive me if I’m not exactly Emily Post-ing the etiquette for socializing right now with the guy who very well could be my stalker.”
“I told you,” I snarl, “I’m not your stalker.” I run my hand over my head, take a deep breath, and lower my voice. “Why would you think that?”
She moves to pick her towel up off the floor where it fell. “You were actually the first person I thought of when the emails started right after you brought your little girlfriend into the ER.” Concentrating on folding the towel gives her the excuse to avoid looking at me. “You knew my name, so it wouldn’t be hard for you to go on the hospital’s website and get my email address.”
“To be clear, Shayla is not my girlfriend. And if you really thought I was your stalker, why didn’t you tell the police? It wouldn’t be too hard to figure out who I was from Shayla’s patient information. The police would have contacted her to get to me.”
She refuses to look my direction and refolds the towel. “I didn’t tell the police right away.”
“Some guy stalks you, and you don’t tell the police?”
“I didn’t think he was a stalker at first,” she says, shrugging, and folding the towel for the third time.
Interesting. “But why did you think it was me?”
Her face reddens and she sways a little. “I actually dismissed you pretty quickly. When I said something about my last name in Latvian, the guy didn’t know what I was talking about. But when you showed up today, all I could think of is that maybe you lied to divert me off your trail.”
“Wait… You engaged with him?”
She reddens more, and I have my answer. Her shaky hands smooth over the thick, damp, perfectly folded square in her hands, and I’m guessing it’s because of more than her supposed fear of me.
“When was the last time you ate?”
She looks up at the ceiling and tilts her head. “I think I had a muffin at like ten.”
“Sit,” I say, pointing to the couch. She looks like she’s going to protest, but she sits and pulls her feet underneath her, still avoiding eye contact with me.
Walking over to the phone, I dial room service, ordering a burger and fries and asking them to rush the order.
“Wow,” she snarks, and I feel the breeze from her eye roll from here. “Thanks for asking what I want.”
I shrug. “I figure everyone likes burgers.”
Her arms fold over her chest. “Clearly, you didn’t even consider that I might be a vegan.”
Her sass is making me want to smile.
“You’re not. You like tacos too much, remember?”
She locks her narrowed eyes on mine for the first time since she looked at me when she opened the bedroom door. “I forgot about that conversation, but that’s not the point.” Focusing her attention back on the towel, she adds, “It wouldn’t have been that hard to ask what I wanted.”
I bite my lips together to keep from smiling. “You’re right.” Grabbing the room service menu, I hand it to her. “I can call them back if you want. What would you like me to order?”
She opens the menu and stares at it for a minute. Her mouth draws to the side. “Probably a burger and fries,” she mutters under her breath, causing me to chuckle. Throwing the menu on the table, she sulks. “Still not the point.”
“I apologize. I should have known better, but I was in a rush to get you fed.”
“You don’t need to take care of me.”
“My job is to keep you safe, even if it means saving you from you trying to starve yourself.”
Her eyes fly to mine. “I wasn’t trying to starve myself. I just forgot to eat.” She blinks. “I’ve had a rough day.”
“So then, maybe you should be grateful I’m here to take care of your needs.”
She runs her hands over the towel again. “I will not have sex with you.”
I almost laugh, but I figure it won’t be well received.
“I didn’t offer sex, Blue.”
Her eyes widen, then narrow, but I’m not sure why. I hear a throat clear and turn to see Noah standing behind me. Of course he is. My boss, who has mentioned his strict “no sleeping with clients” rule at least a dozen times, smirks at me and winks. I’m not sure what that means, either.
“Ember,” he begins, “good news. Scotty and Matt were able to tag team and recover all the deleted emails from your hospital account.”
“Really? Because our IT
guy said that the emails were permanently wiped after a month.”
Noah smiles her direction. “That’s why I keep my techies happy. They can do the seemingly impossible. The problem is that they have to wade through over a thousand deleted emails to get to the ones your stalker sent.”
“Sorry, I get a lot of emails from my students, other preceptors, and pharmaceutical companies.”
“Once they pluck all the emails, they’ll try to trace the location of the sender.”
She tosses the towel onto the couch next to her. “They can really do that?” When Noah nods, she adds, “Oh my God, please don’t tell Kelly.”
“No problem. I’ll send someone tomorrow to check for any devices that may have been planted.” He looks between us. “Are you okay with your chosen bodyguard?”
She eyes me suspiciously and reddens once again. “He’ll do, I guess.”
Noah grins. “Good. I’ll leave you to get some rest then.” He turns to me. “Douglass, may I see you in the hallway?”
I nod and follow him, putting the slide bolt in the way of the door so it won’t auto-lock me out.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m afraid if I let it close, she won’t let me back in.”
He barks out a laugh. “Do you think it’s going to be a problem? I can pull Joe for this one.”
“No. I’m sure it’s just because she’s tired and stressed. We’ve gotten along fine the other times we’ve met.”
He leans in and lowers his voice. “For the record, I think when she said she wouldn’t have sex with you, that was for her benefit, not yours.”
I must look confused, because he adds. “She was trying to convince herself rather than warn you.” He turns to walk away. “She’s got a thing for you, Dugger, so play this delicately.”
She’s got a thing for me?
No way. I’ve never heard of a woman with a “thing” for a guy deliver a head butt to his face. He’s so wrong.
But I can’t say I’m not intrigued.
Nine
Ember
Fuck.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
What the hell do I do now?
The only man to ever give me cooter spasms is now my fucking bodyguard? Is this even real life?
How do I stop from making a further idiot out of myself? And where did the ninja moves come from? I’ve never attacked anyone in my life, much less someone at least a full foot taller than I am. I’m loopy. Lack of sleep and grief will do that, I guess.
And oh, God, did I really tell him I won’t have sex with him out loud? A faulty brain filter due to stressed exhaustion is not really the best thing for someone like me.
Man, it’s just that with that kid today… my heart is broken. Sweet little Dillon, a frequent flier to the ER, was born with a congenital heart defect, so if he contracted any illness, it was always risky. I just feel for his mother so much; she was devastated. I haven’t had a patient’s loss affect me so deeply in a long time. He was just a baby, and he was put on the pediatric heart transplant list last month since his bloodwork finally came back clean, but now…
C’mon, eyes. We cried a lot in the shower. Enough is enough.
I grab the remote to the TV in hopes to find something to distract me from the crying. I brought my Firestick so that I can Netflix it up in this bitch. Fortunately, the wi-fi is operational tonight; last night was a different story, hence the bad dreams.
I’m unsure what I want to watch though. Friends for a laugh? Vampire Diaries so I can stare into Damon’s eyes, or Supernatural to drool over Castiel? Most people fight over whether Dean or Sam is the hotter character, but the blue eyes on that angel do me in every time. What can I say? I’m a sucker for the eyes.
And the eyes on my bodyguard… damn. They’re more dangerous than either Damon’s or Castiel’s.
Plus, when I got a whiff of him, holy Jeebus. Clean like rain on a spring day mixed with something woodsy and just a hint of manliness. I had to head-butt him just so I wouldn’t try to turn around and sniff his neck while humping his tree-trunk thigh.
So if I’m going to hang out with the wet daydream, I should probably avoid all things sexy angel or beautiful vampire and choose Friends for the safe option. I’m about to do just that when my own beautiful-eyed, great-smelling beast comes back into the suite. Ugh, did I say my beast? He’s not mine. He would be if I licked him though…
Damn. Why does he have to be so fucking attractive?
“You watch Supernatural?” he asks in that deep, gravelly way that really dampens my nether regions. “Which season?”
Holy moly, just that voice… And looky there, the clenching thing has only gotten worse in the last five months, probably because I haven’t had sex with anything that didn’t require batteries in well over a year. This poor man is not safe. Maybe he should employ a bodyguard to protect him from my lonely, spastic vaginal cavity.
Shit. I dare not spare him a glance. Can I sit next to him and watch Supernatural without getting all melty from staring at Castiel and smelling him, especially without any promise of battery-operated assistance to assuage my massive case of horn-doggedness?
“Blue, are you asleep with your eyes open?”
I risk it and glimpse his direction, quickly realizing I shouldn’t have. The quasi-worried look on his beautiful face is not helping my situation at all.
I clear my throat and answer. “I’m on season six of Supernatural.”
“I just finished that season about a month ago, and I laughed my ass off during one episode, I think it was called ‘The French Mistake.’ I had to watch it twice.”
I nod and lift the remote and choose Friends. “Well, I’ve already been through the series once, and I need mindless funny tonight.”
He, thankfully, sits on the smaller loveseat, the farthest point away from me. I mean my head is thankful, but the lower half of me is hard-core pouting.
Ten minutes into watching the show, Joey is talking about putting books in the freezer, and I jump at the knock on the door.
“Relax,” he croons. “It’s just your dinner.”
I make a move to stand, but he raises his hand. “I’ll get it, Blue. You’re dead on your feet.”
Fuck him and his charming nicknames and concern for my wellbeing.
The young room service chippy enters and rolls the cart in front of me, which very awesomely makes like a TV table in front of the couch. She, however, can’t take her eyes off my bodyguard, demurely batting her eyelashes and unnecessarily bending in front of him like some stupid, wonton schoolgirl, setting the feminist movement back eons in her blatant attempt to attract his attention. She needs to watch the drooling around my food though. I wouldn’t be surprised if her next move is to unbutton her shirt to display her youthful, billowing cleavage. I mean the nerve. He and I could be a couple for all she knows. Ugh. Chicks today.
Thankfully, he’s not paying any attention to her. He’s lifting the cover on my plate and handing me my napkin.
“Do you need anything else,” she breathily asks, “Sir?”
Ew. Ew, ew, ew. That pause before the coyly added, “Sir,” about makes me lose my appetite. And did she actually push her boobs together and run her hand up her thigh seductively? Seriously?
“I mean,” I say without the ability to stop the words, “I’m the one eating, but please, don’t mind me. You can just continue to flirt with the man who very well could be my lover, my boyfriend, or my husband for all you know. But I’ll just sit here and stuff my face and watch while you keep trying to get him to notice you. Honestly, it’s more entertaining than the show I’m trying to watch anyway.” I pick up my burger and sit back, then wave my hand at her. “Maybe try giggling or bending over again.” I smile before taking a bite and eyeing her. She shifts, and I notice… “Wait, is the hand in your pocket because you’re about to pull out a card that already conveniently has your personal number handwritten on the back, you know, just in case he, wink, wink, needs anything?”
Her hand comes out sans card, but her red face tells me that she was about to pull that exact move. I roll my eyes and swallow.
“Kind of a cliché, don’t you think? Does that card thing ever work?” I take another bite and chew for a second, not caring that I probably look like a slob. “Men have been doing this shit for years, and we’re finally rising up against it with the Me, Too movement, but it doesn’t mean that now women get to be the predators. Just because you’re a female, it doesn’t make it right. Harassment is harassment no matter the gender.” I lift my burger and stare at it for a second. “Maybe Kelly should be aware of what her employees are doing.”
I hear her audibly swallow. “Kelly?”
“I heard you ordered room service,” Kelly calls from the open door as if I conjured her with my witchy power.
I nod and lower my voice. “My best friend since middle school. Oh, yeah, and one of your bosses.”
Taking a huge bite, I dare not remove my eyes from this girl, watching her pale as her boss enters the room.
Kel flops on the couch across from me. “You know I can’t comp you for our way overpriced room service, babe.”
I smile at the speechless little Flirty McFlirterson. She scurries to the door, tail tucked between her legs, refusing to make eye contact with anyone as she exits. Aww. She forgot her tip. Maybe she counts my speech as her tip.
“What did you do to Bri—” Kel pauses when she lays her peepers on my bodyguard. “–anna?”
She glances at me, waiting for an introduction. Honestly, he and I have not been properly introduced, so I really have no recollection of his name. What am I supposed to say? Hey, Kel, remember the guy I told you about after our stripper weekend? The one I hoped was the guy emailing me and turned out to be my stalker? Yeah, he’s standing next to you in my hotel room. Thank God my mouth is way too full, so I can’t form words anyway.
“Douglass Van Cleef,” he says smoothly, holding out his hand to Kelly. “I’ve been assigned as her new bodyguard.”
“I’m Kelly, nice to meet you.” She stands, takes his hand, and turns to me. “So you went with your uncle’s advice, huh?”
