Page 64 of Trust My Bodyguard

“Hey, handsome,” a voice says.

I roll the drink around in my grasp, watching the condensation roll down the sides. Ivy would never call me that. Probablyidiotif she’s feeling generous.

“Hey. Brody.”

That snaps me out of my thoughts. I turn to see Kerianne looking at me.

“Where’s your mind?” She waves her hand in my face. “I’ve been trying to get your attention.”

I return my gaze to my drink. “Hey, Kerianne. How’s it going?”

She hops onto the barstool so she’s face to face with me. “Why are you moping around the bar when everyone’s out there having fun? Let’s go dance.”

“No, thanks.” I gulp a mouthful. “I’m all danced out.”

“Come on.” She quirks her blood red lips. “I’m not. And this one is my favorite.”

I glance back at the group. The partners have their hands pressed together and are moving around in a circle. I see a couple steal a kiss.

“Find someone else.”

“But I want you.” She pouts.

Irritation sours my mouth. I set the drink aside. “Go somewhere else, Kerianne.”

Her face falls. “Okay, now you’re just being mean.”

“I’m not in the mood.”

“Then you should’ve stayed home,” she snaps.

“I should have,” I concur.

Whatever she hears in my voice softens her tone again. “Come on.” She takes my hand in both of hers. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

Is this still about dancing? I turn and catch her with her lower lip between her teeth and a seductive glint in her eyes. Not about dancing then.

“Thanks, but no thanks.” I withdraw my hand and hold my drink instead.

“Really?” Her lips press into a tight line. “Fine.” She hops off the stool. “You may think you’re cold, Brody Hawke, but I’m colder.”

What does that even mean?

She struts off, head held high with her chest thrust forward. Half the men follow her with their eyes. Any one of them would fall over themselves to be her partner tonight. She wouldn’t even need to ask. Just a glance and they’d be drooling and doing her bidding like good little puppies.

I sigh and face forward. I can’t. Ivy and I made no commitment to each other, but it feels wrong to even think of another womanthat way. When I close my eyes, she’s all I see. All the parts of her.

Angry Ivy. Happy Ivy. Sexy-as-fuck Ivy. Leaving Ivy.

I miss her.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Ivy

Iris whooshes into the living room. “Dress or pants?” Before I can raise my head, she takes off. “Ugh. Never mind. I have something else.”

She runs through the apartment that looked like a hurricane swept through it when we first returned from Pine Peaks a week ago. I’d sunk on the ruined couch, tired and overwhelmed, wondering where to start with the break-in mess we left behind.

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