Page 8 of South Beach Bodyguards

“I wasn’t trying to look.” He winced. “And could you not shove me right where I got shot, motherfucker?”

“Sorry.” Not sorry at all. I’d seen the glean in his eye. He couldn’t turn a blind eye to every other woman on the face of the damn planet then actually be attracted to Isabel of all people. I wasn’t having it.

Wester’s eyebrows went up. “That didn’t sound very sincere.”

“Fuck you.”

It was so unlike me to be overly emotional, Wester started laughing. “Chill out, man. I’m just giving you shit. But now I know your weak spot. Don’t let anyone else know or you’re screwed.”

My jaw twitched. “I don’t have a weak spot.”

“Uh-huh.” He leaned closer and murmured to me, “You take the daughter, I’ll take the mother.”

“Fucking pig.”

That made the corner of his mouth lift. “You know it.”

I called a goodbye to Kim then went back into my apartment and slammed the door shut. I took a deep breath and turned around to face Isabel and all her curves and temptations.

She was smiling and running her hands through her hair.

I was dead. Just fucking dead.

three

I couldn’t sleep. I’d only gone into the bedroom because Ryan had upset me, so when I got too bored to lie there anymore, on his sheets, smelling his scent, I decided that Ryan and I needed to get a few things straight. Most of them involving the fact that I was tired of him treating me like a little girl who didn’t know her head from her backside. Along with the fact that he seemed offended and appalled by my body, which was seriously upsetting. Not at all the reaction I’d been hoping for. Him catching me in the shower had not been planned, but I certainly would have appreciated a different outcome considering I’d been crushing on him since the first second I’d laid eyes on him at my mom’s wedding to Mickey.

I knew I should get dressed before going out there, but I just had an overwhelming desire to finally get a rise out of him. Today I had the courage I’d never had before and I wanted to take advantage of it, or at least get some kind of reaction from him other than averted eyes.

It seemed like I should have a headache, but I didn’t. I just had… fogginess. I kept trying to remember the day before, two weeks before, today. Five minutes ago. But everything kept slipping through my fingers. I knew things. Just knew them somehow without thinking about it. But I couldn’t remember specific details.

It was a completely bizarre feeling, but oddly, not scary. It felt more like when you’re just about to drop off to sleep and thoughts roll in and out and you can’t get a hold of them. They flit in and flit out and you don’t mind, because your eyelids are heavy and you feel aware yet dreamily unaware. There was a bit of a knot on the back of my head, and it was tender when I touched it, but beyond that, I was pretty sure that once I got a full night’s sleep I would be fine and my sleepiness would abate.

Until then, who objected to not having racing thoughts and a giant to-do list? Not me. I felt like I’d spent the afternoon lying on the beach dozing, the sound of other people and the ocean waves a lulling white noise in the background. I felt oddly relaxed, and tactile. My skin felt alive, my breasts heavy, my body responding to being around Ryan. Because while I didn’t remember falling or going to the ER, I did remember that I had harbored many a secret thought about Ryan Harris and what he and I could do alone together, naked.

The minute I opened the bedroom door I hesitated, confused for a second. I thought I heard my mother’s voice, and briefly I was disconcerted trying to pinpoint how I’d gotten to Ryan’s, but then I saw him close his front door and turn back to me, and I forgot why it mattered. What mattered was letting Ryan know precisely how I felt about him.

“I can’t sleep,” I said.

“I see that.” Ryan’s jaw was stern, his eyes stormy.

He wasn’t classically good looking and was the very opposite of a pretty boy. Having grown up around beautiful Latin men, I liked the difference in Ryan, in his rugged dirty man appearance. He looked like he didn’t give a shit about what he was wearing, or about putting product in his hair, or wearing jewelry. He looked like he liked guns, fast cars, and fucking. It was exciting as hell to me.

“Was my mom here?” I couldn’t seem to wrap my head around why my mother would be there when I was supposed to be having sex with Ryan.

Ryan frowned. My feelings exactly. “Yes, she just left. You talked to her.”

“No, I didn’t.” I just stared at him, trying to piece together what had happened earlier, but I just had flashes, images of me being startled, of bright lights that hurt my eyes, and then Ryan. Maybe I had talked to my mother though. I was confused again. Nothing seemed to be making sense. “Aren’t you coming to bed?” I asked.

“Um, no. It’s only six thirty.”

“It is?” I glanced towards the window and sun was beating through the blinds. “Oh.” My head was starting to hurt. I had come into the living room to seduce Ryan, and now I just felt confused. “I didn’t mean to sleep though. I meant to do better things than sleeping.” I couldn’t let him distract me from the obvious.

“Is-“ Ryan made a face and rubbed his hand over his face. “You don’t know what you’re doing. You’re not yourself. You don’t want me to come to bed with you.”

That actually made me laugh. Was he joking? “Yes, I do. I always have.”

“Oh, God.” He sounded pained, and he tore his T-shirt off over his head.

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