Page 88 of The Bodyguard

I shake myself out of my daze and focus back on Savannah, who’s reading a book as we fly through the sky. An idea comes to mind, and I pull out my phone, checking her schedule.

I can only see her business activities. She might not add her personal appointments to this calendar, so I’m forced to ask her. Which means it won’t be a surprise.

Still, I think it will make her happy.

“Savannah,” I say quietly, and her green eyes lift to mine with a sparkle. That I put there. “What are you doing on Saturday?”

Her mouth opens. “Um. Nothing. I was going to sleep all day. Do yoga I suppose.”

I climb out of my seat and sit in the one beside her. She drops her book on her lap and watches me.

“Keep your calendar clear.” I smile, lifting her hand and kissing her fingers.

“What are you up to?” she whispers.

“Maybe I’m joining you in bed.”

Her lips stretch into a smile, then they fade. “What happened to Sweetheart, you don’t belong to me?” She asks softly, but her tone is mocking.

“You know I can’t change that.”

Hell, the fact that I’m even here is fighting my own instinct to run and put Marshall on her detail. For all I know, I’m the wrong person to be protecting her.

The last woman died.

But I’m a selfish man and I want her. I want as much of her as I can get before I need to walk away.

“I know. You know, Ryder, I never knew celebrity would come with such a price.” Savannah says, tucking her legs up under her.

Then she surprises me and lays her head on my shoulder. We snooze the rest of the way back to California.

Her hand tucked inside mine.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

SAVANNAH

––––––––

I finally got a message from my sister.

And wish I hadn’t.

Congratulations on the nomination, Blister. You’ve really hit it big time. You know it would be nice if you helped Mom and Dad out.

Blister.

It’s what we used to call each other when we were kids. Instead of sister. Blister One and Blister Two.

I was number one, of course, because I was older. Which we also used to fight about.

I miss how close we were.

Maybe I should just give them all some money... but then it just feels like I’m paying them to be my family and love me.

I pace the house all Saturday morning, cursing and slamming doors and muttering to myself. Eventually I reply.

Maybe it would be nice if you all just loved me instead of asking for money all the time.

---