Page 23 of Trust My Bodyguard

It’s been a week since the ladies and I have been at the cabin. Sera has stopped by a few times to drop off the things we need. I’ve grilled her each time to ensure she’s being careful.

“Yes. Thank you.”

She beams and floats past me toward the kitchen. “Hello,” she greets Iris and Ivy cheerily.

“Uh, a new face, thank goodness.” Ivy hugs her.

Iris collects the basket. “What do you have for us today?”

“Everything on the list you sent.”

I remain on the periphery as the ladies catch up. It’s amazing how quickly they’ve warmed up to Sera who has only been over a few times and stays for no more than a couple of minutes. On the other hand, as someone who is constantly present, I am met with cold shoulders and, if I’m lucky, a passing glance.

Sera sticks around for a few minutes before announcing her departure. “Have to catch up with some work stuff.”

The sisters look longingly at her as she leaves.

Ivy’s eyes slip from Sera and lock onto mine. The warmth in them fades the longer our gazes hold. Finally, she rolls her eyes and returns to unpacking the basket Sera brought.

It’s no skin off my back. This is a typical interaction for us.

She’s turned down every attempt I’ve made to talk about the night we kissed. It’s a mistake I don’t regret. Hell, I’ve even savored the memory on some sleepless nights. I wasn’t in my right senses and she smelled like lilies and she was right there. Just what I needed. An angel pulling me out of my nightmares. So I took her in my arms. Realization hit late when she was already in my lap and mewling. It took everything in me to stop.

If only she’d give me a chance to explain. But I bet she’s content to hate me and let the awkwardness fester.

I sit by the window, watching the white outdoors while they putter around in the kitchen. I pretend not to pay attention to them but I do. Especially Ivy.

It’s difficult not to notice her when we’re in such close quarters. My eyes always end up seeking her out. I may be paranoid but I think she may be putting herself in suggestive positions to mess with my head.

Why the exaggerated lean when she wipes the counter? Why does she make soft, moaning sounds when she eats? Why does she make a show of drinking from a water bottle? Head thrown back, eyes closed, and throat bobbing.

She caught me staring one time and pursed her lips. “Can’t look away, can you?”

Those words ring in my head. Did she want a reaction out of me? I refused to give her one. I’ve accepted that the only way to keep the peace between us is not to engage with her. And the more I’ve kept my distance, the more she’s tried to push my buttons.

Sometimes I’m uncertain if I’m mad at her or if I want to throw her down and have my way with her.

I exhale, pushing those thoughts from my head. All they’d bring me is long, restless nights.

Our days have been predictable and similar, one blending into the other. It doesn’t bother me. A big part of serving in the military is waiting. Waiting for something to happen. Staying sharp and looking out for the enemies.

But it bothers Ivy and Iris. At first, it was obvious they were glad to be safe, but then after a few days, it turned to discontent. Unfortunately, that’s what it takes to stay safe so they’d need to suck it up.

A dish clatters on the floor. My gaze snaps in its direction.

Ivy is already there with a broom, nudging her sister away. “I’ll take care of it.”

Our eyes meet and she looks away. She barely speaks to me. The only times I hear her voice is when she taunts me or speaks to Iris. She’s gentle and kind to her. Outside her suggestive taunts, she’s been curt and straight to the point with me.

Not like I’m looking for a talking buddy. I have enough of that with the guys when we convene on a video call to discuss their progress and with Sera who shows up almost daily with anything we request. Nick has updated me about how efficient she’s been back at the office too. Zane had nothing positive to say, but I think she’s a godsend.

The Ross sister throwing me annoyed glances? Not so much. What does she think she does when she gives me an attitude? All it makes me want to do is kiss her into submission. I can still remember how pliant and willing she was that night even though she pretended she wasn’t.

“Dammit!” Ivy throws a dish towel on the counter. “I’m tired.”

That tone of voice. She’s speaking to me. I turn around and of course, her sweet words and tender look—not—are directed at me.

I shrug. “Get some rest if you’re tired.”

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