Page 26 of Tortured Tones

He blinked and jerked his chin back. “You do?”

“Yes.” An ache shuddered through my heart. I missed Josh so fucking much. “A boy. He’s six.”

Cole slumped and rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry, I didn’t know. I’m new at this parenting thing and have no idea what I’m doing.”

“Well, learn quick.” I folded my arms. “You’re lucky it was only coloring markers. What if she’d swallowed something, or choked, or had done God only knows what? She could’ve gotten hurt.”

He winced. “Fine. I’ll make sure Hannah is with her next time.”

“Good.” I nodded. “Someone has to be with her always. She’s young. I know this is a shock to your system, but you have to be more careful. Charlotte comes first. Hannah has to report to your social worker too, remember? You don’t want to lose your daughter over silly mistakes.”

I’d paid the price for mine; I’d hate for Cole to do the same. I’d do anything to clear my wrongdoings and get more time with my son.

“Well thank fuck I have you to help when needed.”

I narrowed my eyes into sharp slits and shook my head. “No. I’m security, not a nanny.”

“You’re more like a drill sergeant,” Cole mumbled. “You’d have my kid doing military exercises before breakfast.”

I arched one eyebrow and injected some sass into my tone. “No. Just you. Now get your ass into gear. We have a big day ahead.”

He puffed air through his nose and headed for the door. “Let me check on the kid and Hannah, then we’ll go for a run.”

“Deal.”

“Are you sure you’ll be able to keep up?” A glint shimmered through his eyes as he held the door open for me.

Hmph. He could be a gentleman . . . nice. “I’m positive.”

A handsome smile curled across his lips, too devilish for his own good. “We’ll see about that. You know I run, work out, and drum for about six hours every day.”

He didn’t know I ran half-marathons for fun and liked cross-fit training. “I like endurance.” I sailed past him and glanced back over my shoulder. “Show me what you’ve got, drummer boy.”

“Oh . . . it’s on.”

The challenge was set.

After checking on Charlotte, we headed out the front pedestrian gate into the fray of paparazzi. Cameras flashed, blinding my eyes in the soft morning light. Great. Duty had started. I stepped in front of Cole, blocking him from the small crowd. But he just smiled and waved at them.

“Morning all.” Cole stood on the curbside, stretching his quads, undeterred by the photographers. “So you get your facts straight for your news headlines, this is Ava. My bodyguard. Not my latest hookup.”

Didn’t the company logo on my black T-shirt and leggings make it obvious who I was? Probably not.

“Why do you need security, Cole?” a man with a black baseball cap asked. “Has something happened? Has there been an incident? A threat?”

“Yeah. You pricks are hanging ’round my home too much.” A playful grin slid across his mouth. He walked off, waving over his shoulder. “See you soon.”

We headed down the road, side by side. I met his quick stride, step for step. “You talk to the paparazzi?” Most clients I’d worked with couldn’t stand them.

“Yeah. Be nice to them, they usually reciprocate. They don’t get crazy or disrespectful. They’re just doing their job.”

Hmph. This guy continually did my head in. He was nice one minute, horrid the next. Arrogant but caring. Fun-loving but troubled. Damn. He was more messed up than I was.

He took off at a steady pace, jogging toward Fryman Canyon Park. As we veered left up the incline, he sped off at a sprint. Was this a test? How far should I let him get ahead before I chased him down? Nah! I’d let him have his fun, thinking he’d gotten the better of me.

At the top of the ridge, he waited, pacing back and forth across the dirt track, sucking in deep breaths with every step. “What happened to keeping up?”

“I can go all day, Cole. You, in that state? I doubt it.” I continued along the trail at a constant stride. “Come on. Move it.”

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