Keeping Her Close

by Carol Ross

  Kyle said that Owen didn’t specify what their differences were. If he’d told Kyle, it seemed like there’d be no reason not to mention them now. But still, she had to know.

  “Did you, um, did you know much about Owen’s work?”

  “Uh, yeah, sure. I’ve been offered a job with Dahlia. I don’t start until next month, but I also have another friend working there. So I have a pretty good grasp of what the work entails.”

  “In Africa? Did he talk about his time there much?”

  “No...” he drawled, his face twisting with discomfort and confusion. Further evidence, Harper decided, that he didn’t know. She wondered what he’d think about the venture. Had Owen not told him because he didn’t think Kyle would approve? She hoped so.

  A more burning question followed and seared her conscience. Was it Harper’s place to tell him the truth?

  CHAPTER THREE

  KYLE’S INTENSE BROWN gaze caught Harper’s as he started speaking, derailing Harper’s train of thought. “Harper, what I’m trying to say is that I know you loved Owen, too. He was a great man and my best friend. He was like a brother to me, and I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for him. I don’t know if he mentioned it, but the last mission we did together, he saved my life. He could have been killed. He should have been. We both should be...” His voice trailed off, and Harper was staggered by the emotion she saw, the sincerity she heard, the love and grief he so obviously felt for his friend.

  Inhaling a breath, he gathered himself and continued, “Despite your breakup, I know his death had to be hard on you, too. I imagine with how things ended, it was probably even more difficult in some ways than it would have been otherwise. Owen made it clear to me that it wasn’t over between you two.”

  Tears welled in her eyes, and she barely managed to blink them away before they spilled over. The Owen she knew did not deserve this kind of devotion.

  Sympathy was evident in the deep brown depths of his gaze. “Harper, I, um, I’m just so sorry. Those are words I should have said to you a long time ago. I thought about reaching out to you after Owen died, but I didn’t, and I’m sorry for that, too.”

  Harper nodded because she didn’t know what else to do; her tears, her pain, did not exist for the reason he believed, but she couldn’t find the right words to explain. But that wasn’t quite accurate. She had the words; she just didn’t know if she should use them.

  “I’m sorry for you,” she finally managed. And that, she realized, was true. She’d often thought about how differently she’d feel about Owen’s death if she hadn’t learned the truth. If he’d died before revealing his true character, before their breakup, she would have been devastated. Of course, she realized now that she’d fallen for a man who didn’t exist. It wasn’t the first time she’d been fooled.

  This man seated before her was no robot bodyguard. Her heart went out to him, but at the same time, she was almost jealous of him, of this pure emotion born of unsullied memories. She didn’t see any reason to spoil that for him, to cause him more pain. She decided she couldn’t do it, knowingly tarnish his memory of Owen. What possible purpose could that serve?

  Clearing his throat, he said, “You don’t have to talk about it. We don’t have to talk about this anymore. That’s not why I’m here. I did want to apologize, but your grief is your own, as is mine. And I want you to know that as far as I’m concerned, whatever happened between you two doesn’t have anything to do with you and me, with our relationship.” After a pause, he clarified, “Potential working relationship.”

  She could live with that. And him, she decided, going with her gut. She couldn’t imagine anything else that he could have said that would have eased her anxiety as much as the speech he’d just given. And he was right; she didn’t want to discuss Owen.

  “Okay,” she said, “You’re hired.”

  Instead of appearing happy to get the job, he frowned. “Are you sure? Do you want to ask me some questions first?”

  “No. I’ve heard—and seen—all I need to know.”

  He gave his head a little shake. “Please, don’t let that news story sway you. You know how the media spins everything.”

  “It’s not the news story,” she said, even though it was a little. “My dad trusts you.” The fact that he’d risked his own safety to protect her dad counted for a lot. “And I’m sure you met Dad’s head security guy, Denny?” At Kyle’s nod, she added, “Then you meet his standards, too, which are very high.” Weighing her next words carefully, she said, “You’re right that I don’t want to talk about what happened between Owen and me, but I will tell you that he trusted you. More than anyone. He had nothing but wonderful things to say about you. According to him, you were the best man and the best soldier ever.”

  Dipping his chin, he scrubbed a hand across one cheek before meeting her gaze again. “The feeling was mutual.”

  “I can see that,” Harper said diplomatically. She inhaled deeply and slowly and then eased out the breath. Was she crazy to agree to this? Maybe. But there was something so solid and comforting about this guy, and, if she were being honest, she wanted him to be for real. Without a doubt, she needed some help. He was right that she could have easily let some unknown, potentially dangerous person into her house tonight. Much of the time she didn’t even bother with the security system anyway. When she did, she often wasn’t sure if she’d done everything properly. The notion was rather sobering and lent an extra dose of urgency to his employment. She realized her dad knew all of this and had probably been experiencing something similar when he offered Kyle the job.

  “So...” she drawled. “How are we going to do this? Lecture and then lab? Or do you have like a personal security textbook, Stay Safe 101? Just to warn you, I’m awful at pop quizzes. After the first one, I will resent you for the entire semester and not perform to my highest capability.”

  Kyle sat back in his seat, seeming to relax a bit as he pondered her tongue-in-cheek questions. And probably her. Had he been nervous that she wouldn’t agree to hire him? That thought was rather endearing. It made him seem both human and normal, and it gave her confidence in her decision.

  But only briefly because his expression went stony again. Like granite. Hard, scary granite.

  Leaning forward, he placed his forearms on his thighs and tented his fingers. “It’s all lab, Harper. One hundred percent hands-on. And we’re going to start by getting you in shape. Calisthenics for one hour every morning at 4:30 a.m., followed by a five-mile run on the beach.” Tipping his head, he added, “But not your typical run. Every other day, we’ll add an obstacle course to simulate tactical evasion. And three days a week, we’ll have what I like to call target practice.”

  What. The. Whatty-what? Harper opened her mouth, shut it and finally managed to stutter, “Um, target what? I don’t know how to... I mean, I don’t—”

  He straightened, interrupting her with a stop-sign hand. “Relax, it’s not what you think. You won’t be doing any shooting. I’ll be shooting at you with a paintball gun while you try to dodge it. The less paint on your person, the more lunch you earn. Positive reinforcement can be helpful in specific, isolated training situations.”

  Harper knew she was gaping. Was he out of his mind? Had the word normal actually crossed her mind in conjunction with this lunatic? He was as messed up as Owen. More, possibly. She was still trying to decide how to proceed when his face broke into a wide smile, or at least she hoped it was a smile. The whole time he’d been here she’d yet to see it, so she couldn’t be sure. She kept still, waiting, in case she was misinterpreting the gesture. Maybe he was wincing or had something stuck in his teeth.

  Finally, he said, “Harper, I’m joking. I do have some basic protocol that we’ll cover. Your dad wants you to become an expert with your security system. But otherwise, we’ll just plan on doing this situationally, taking it one day at a time. Does that work for you?
”

  Huh. She had not seen that coming. But she also liked it. A grin crept over her, and she laughed. He joined her, and Harper was momentarily mesmerized by the deep, rich sound. The smile that lingered transformed him. Harper met his gaze and warmth spread through her chest, making her head a little light, her thoughts a bit fuzzy. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d laughed like this, felt so at ease.

  That thought was sobering in itself, melting her laughter away. Because this situation was anything but easy; she officially had herself a bodyguard.

  * * *

  “ONE SOYSAGE, SPINACH and kale omelet.” Nora Frasier proudly set a plate in front of her only son. “Protein packed with two servings of veggies tucked inside.”

  “Thanks, Mom. Sounds delicious,” Kyle lied as Nora turned and sailed back into the kitchen.

  Soysage? Kyle mouthed the word to his seventeen-year-old quasi-nephew, Levi, who was sitting across the table from him in his sister Mia’s dining room. Kyle sniffed at his plate, and then whispered, “Does she think it will make it more palatable by having it sound more meat-like? Or that we’ll be so impressed by the clever play on words that we won’t be able to resist?”

  Levi let out a snort of laughter, which he convincingly covered with a cough. Or maybe he was choking. Poor kid had already taken a bite of his omelet. Levi lifted his glass of orange juice and took a sip.

  Adamantly refusing to put anyone out, Kyle had been crashing on the couch in Mia and Jay’s downstairs family room for the last few weeks since arriving in Pacific Cove. Last night, he’d left Harper’s with the plan for them to meet back at her place this morning. They’d agreed on 8:30 as his official start time. Kyle smiled to himself as he thought about the look on her face when he’d proposed his “fitness plan.” He hadn’t been able to resist teasing her; she was so obviously nervous about this whole security thing. That easy laugh of hers was contagious, even though he recognized her joking around as a defense mechanism. He’d have to be careful about keeping her on track, emphasizing the importance of their task.

  Mia was a veterinarian and co-owned a clinic in Pacific Cove. Her husband, Jay, was a former Coast Guard flight mechanic who’d recently started his own construction business. Their home was a large four-bedroom bungalow overlooking the ocean, but it didn’t feel nearly as large as the actual square footage. Two of the bedrooms were filled with Jay’s teenaged siblings, Levi and Laney, who Jay had legal custody of.

  Until recently, Nora had occupied the fourth bedroom, but now she lived in a plush apartment above the garage that Jay had recently added on. Nora’s old room was now Jay’s office, which doubled as a sometimes bedroom for Jay’s youngest two siblings, Dean and Delilah, who lived with their other sister, Josie, but visited often and liked to sleep over.

  Two dogs and four cats rounded out the total of occupants. And Mia’s dog, George, was roughly the size of two people. Currently, the mastiff-bloodhound mix was camped out under the dining room table with his massive head resting on Kyle’s feet. George was the sweetest dog in the world with a bad habit of eating anything that would fit between his massive jaws. Which gave Kyle an idea.

  Leaning backward, he glanced under the table. “Georgie,” he whispered.

  “I already tried it,” Levi said, reading his intention. “George won’t eat it.”

  “Really? Dang.” That did not bode well. Kyle had seen George eat chunks of rotten seaweed like they were gravy-covered biscuits. Kyle picked up his fork and used it to flip up the top layer of the omelet. Taking a peek inside, he whispered, “What are the grayish-brown bits?”

  “Pepitas,” Levi answered.

  At Kyle’s confused headshake, Levi explained, “That’d be a pumpkin seed to you and me.”

  “In an omelet?” The eggs at least would be good, courtesy of Nora’s cage-free, organically fed laying hens.

  “Nora thinks they go in everything. She even puts them in those cookie things she makes.” To Kyle’s way of thinking, the “cookie things” weren’t truly cookies because they didn’t contain sugar. Still, he’d decided he could handle the sugar-free life better than the meatless one.

  Kyle let out a dramatic sigh, and said wistfully, “You know, Levi, there was a time in my life when my mom made the best ham-and-cheese omelets on the planet.”

  “Ham?” Levi quirked a skeptical brow. “You’re telling me Nora Frasier once ingested nitrite-laden, sodium-infused pork products?”

  “Those were good times.”

  They shared a chuckle.

  “I still can’t believe you have two jobs!” Nora called from the kitchen.

  Exchanging concerned glances, Kyle and Levi both hurriedly shoveled in several bites of omelet before Nora reappeared.

  “I’m swallowing the peptides whole,” Kyle whispered. Levi laughed outright at his deliberate mispronunciation.

  Soon after he’d arrived in Pacific Cove, Kyle had discovered that Levi also was not a fan of the meat alternatives Nora liked to ply them with when he’d come in late one night and found him frying bacon. The real stuff. No fakon for this kid. Kyle enthusiastically offered to help. They’d feasted on bacon sandwiches after which Levi showed Kyle his processed meat stash in the spare fridge in the garage. They’d taken to clandestinely going out for burgers whenever they could manage. No way would either of them risk hurting Nora’s feelings by confessing to these transgressions.

  Nora hustled back into the room with her own plate. “And you found a place to live.”

  “One job at a time, Mom.” Kyle grinned at Nora. “And the housing is temporary. In exchange for helping out a friend’s daughter, I’m going to stay in her guest cottage for a month. After I start at Dahlia, I’ll be able to find more permanent lodgings of my own.”

  “And it’s right here in Pacific Cove?”

  “Basically. It’s several miles south of town.”

  “Who is it? Do I know these people?”

  “I doubt you know them,” he hedged. Of course, his mom had heard of David Bellaire, but after Harper revealed that no one in Pacific Cove seemed aware of the association between her and her father, they decided to keep it that way. This was made easier because Harper used the last name Jansen, her mother’s maiden name, as her professional moniker. “They’re from Seattle, and the daughter has only been living here a few months.”

  His mom had met Owen a couple of times when Kyle had brought him home with him on leave. But that had been years ago; she didn’t know him well. To his knowledge, she hadn’t been aware that Owen had been in a relationship. Kyle didn’t mention the association now because it would be a lot to explain without revealing Harper’s parentage. “Need to know” was ingrained in him right along with his sense of loyalty. Like a lot of habits that had kept him alive in his military career, he doubted he’d ever break that one either.

  As it had too often since he’d been here in Pacific Cove, it struck him once again how little his family knew about him. Understandable to a degree, considering the circumstances of his career. The sad part was how little he knew about them. He’d been a terrible son to his mom and an even worse brother to Mia. He hadn’t even come home for Mia and Jay’s wedding. A fresh twist of regret and guilt tightened his chest.

  “That’s great news! Isn’t that great news, Mia?” His mom, at least, didn’t seem to hold it against him. She tried so hard to make him feel like he belonged. Too hard, Kyle thought. He didn’t deserve to be forgiven so easily.

  Kyle watched Mia in the kitchen beyond pouring a cup of coffee. Ten years in the military, eight of those in Special Forces, numerous life-and-death missions, and his big sister still made him nervous. As kids, they’d never had a great relationship or even a good one for that matter. Now, as an adult, Kyle understood why. Their dad, William Frasier, now deceased, but who they’d only recently learned was not Mia’s biological father, had always favored Kyle. Worse
than that, he’d basically ignored Mia.

  On an unspoken level, Kyle had known it was unfair, but he’d worshipped his navy officer father, so he’d never questioned his dad’s unequal treatment of his kids. Partially because, painful as it was to admit, he’d been the one to reap the benefits. He regretted that, and especially the wedge it had driven between him and Mia. Kyle wanted to fix it, or at least make it better; he just had no clue how to go about it. He wasn’t sure it was possible.

  Mia entered the dining room and sat at the table opposite him. “That is good news,” she said in a tone that told Kyle the words didn’t equate to how she really felt. “Congratulations. But, when you start at Dahlia, you’ll be gone all the time anyway, right? So basically, it will be like you’re still in the navy.”

  “Not exactly,” he said, even though his stomach pitched at the truth behind her words. He’d figure out a way to make it work.

  “Dangerous assignments where you spend weeks or months overseas,” she intoned wryly. “Yeah, totally different.”

  “I’ll be paid a lot more, and I’m out of uniform.” That sounded lame even to him.

  “So, you’re doing it for the money?”

  Kyle was grateful for the military training that kept him from reacting to his sister’s challenging stare. There didn’t seem to be much they could discuss without disagreeing. “I couldn’t make anything even close to what I’ll be making at Dahlia anywhere around here.” That was another evasion. The truth was that he didn’t really have an answer to Mia’s question, other than he and Owen had planned this for years. From the time Owen had left the military, they’d begun discussing it. They’d wanted to work together again, and maybe someday start their own business. Owen had been gearing up for it already, planning, waiting for Kyle to join him at Dahlia. Irrational as it was, he couldn’t shake the notion that if he’d started at Dahlia sooner, Owen would still be alive. The day before the accident, when he’d called, Owen had once again said how much he wished Kyle was with him. Bottom line, he felt compelled to take the job. Just like he did where Harper was concerned. The obligation, the drive to somehow make this right, was something he couldn’t explain.