Page 10 of If Our Hearts Collide

“Come hungry,” Nic insists, “or bring a moving van for all the leftovers our mom will pack up for you. She’s also convinced we don’t give you a lunch break—ever.”

I can’t hide my smile. That woman can’t help mothering each one of us from a distance. It’s engrained into her.

And there’s no part of me that doesn’t welcome her affection.

When I exit Graham’s office, I take the elevator down to the Plus None floor. Old habits never die. Nearly every time I’m here, whether I’m on or off duty, I check in on the girls—even if they are unaware of me doing so. Claire and Angie are family to me. I would lay down my life to protect either one of them.

Seeing that nothing is out of the norm, I opt for the stairs the rest of the way down to the lobby.

Since Nic’s been appointed head of security here, the building has undertaken a revamp on all of the cameras,access points, and daily operation protocols. Graham spared no expense with turning his building—which encompasses the management of his jewelry company—into a fortress.

Stepping out onto the sidewalk, I breathe in the warm mid-July air. Living in Portland, I find the summer weather enjoyable. I pull out my shades from my suit pocket, placing them over my eyes. It sure feels good to be back on an assignment after taking a couple of weeks off to relax my brain. Granted, Graham forced those days on me.

He was right, though. I feel energized and ready to go.

I unlock my Tesla, slipping into the driver’s seat. I would be lying if I said it wasn’t a guilty-pleasure purchase. I can’t take all my money to the grave with me, so I might as well splurge once in a while.

My lifestyle has adjusted to the perks of working for Graham Hoffman. Sure, both brothers assign me work, but it is Graham who usually takes the lead on most matters. He values hard work and loyalty. My bank account is proof that staying on his good side has profound financial benefits.

I only have to go a few blocks to get home. I park in the garage, directly in my assigned spot. Exiting the car, I lock the doors with the key fob and enter into the waiting elevator. I hit the button for the eleventh floor.

With a short walk down the hallway, I am at my unit. I tap in the code to unlock the door and enter my foyer. Sitting on the storage bench, I untie my dress shoes and place them perfectly on the shelf underneath.

Everything has its place, and when everything is in its place, I feel calm.

During my vacation, I hired a designer and several contractors to gut my condo unit and update all of the features. My place was livable before, but now it has all of the modern luxuries it was lacking during the original build.

Now I have a built-in sound system, new tiled floors, and a complete switch to all stainless steel appliances. I upgraded the master bedroom and even had some fun features added—like special lighting and a four-poster bed. Not that I ever bring women back to my sanctuary. I much prefer hotel rooms for anything casual but intimate. There’s fewer strings to cut later if things get emotionally messy.

I don’t do drama, and I definitely don’t like messy.

Regardless, at least when I do come home, it’s a place I want to be.

Without having a full schedule for my assignment of watching over Penny, I may be able to carve out time to catch up on some of my hobbies. Focusing on myself these days has been a rarity. But maybe hitting up a social scene or two will bring me some sexual satisfaction that I’ve been missing. There’s really no other way than to chisel out time for that desired release.

I make my way into the master bedroom, undoing my belt and fly as I walk into the newly renovated closet. Deciding that I needed more space for all of my suits—which are perfectly organized based on color—I opted for the walk-in version.

I remove all of my clothes, fold them, and place them neatly into the hamper meant for dry cleaning. Once a week, Hilda swings by to tidy up the place, bring me groceries, prep meals, and handle all of my laundry needs. It took me a while to trust someone inside my residence while I’m not here. The hidden security cameras scattered about the place help build my confidence though.

Part of me wishes I had more of a conscience. But in my line of work, being soft gets you taken advantage of—or killed. You either eat or be eaten. While I don’t have many personal items to protect, I still value the luxury of knowing that what I do have is not going to be stolen away from me.

I’m sure to others, I appear to be quiet and rigid—a man set in his ways. But you don’t become one of the top sought after bodyguards for one of the richest men on the West Coast by being sloppy.

I am all about those details.

Slipping on a pair of workout pants, I forgo my shirt and head to my home gym. The good thing about being introverted is that I waste less time by avoiding all of the pitfalls of social media or going out to bars. It’s just not my scene. I’m methodical with my choices of where and how I decide to spend my free time.

I start on the pull-up bar and keep my reps around fifteen for three sets. Today is arms day. With the metal music playing through the sound system, it’s easy to lose myself in this room.

Thirty minutes is all it takes to be drenched in sweat and ready to hit up the shower. As the water pelts down around me, I think about my new assignment—one I didn’t see coming.

I am also shocked about being invited to Penny’s birthday. I can’t even remember the last time I bought anyone a gift—let alone for someone of the opposite sex.

What would someone sweet like Penny like? If I’m going to try not to stand out, I better figure it out—and fast.

3

PENNY

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