Page 23 of Regards, Mia

I have plans. I have a life. I’m not chained to my desk. Nope. Not me.

My bones creak as I stand from my chair and stretch.

A knock on my door sounds a moment before Jordan steps in. “You want Chinese or Mexican?”

“Neither.” I roll my shoulders, which ache just like the rest of me. I feel one hundred years old after sitting in the same position for hours.

“Thai?” Jordan looks up from his phone.

“I’m leaving,” I say. And I don’t feel bad about it. I’ve been working like a dog for months.

“Hot date?”

I grab my purse from the bottom drawer and catch a glimpse of the invitation to my brother’s wedding, which reminds me exactly how pathetic my dating life is. I’d planned on asking Harrison to be my date at Max’s destination wedding, but those plans are forgotten now. “Not a date,” I say. “Book club.”

“You and your book club,” he says, tapping on his phone. “You guys are tight.”

I shove the invitation to the back of the drawer. Maybe I could ask Thatcher to be my date. Thatcher is handsome and charming, and we are close enough that he could fake being my boyfriend to impress my family. If they knew I was single, I’d never hear the end of it. My baby brother is already getting married before me, which my mom never tires of reminding me.

Grabbing my jacket off the back of my chair, I tuck my purse under my arm. “See you tomorrow.”

Jordan looks up from his phone, his brow creased. “Wait. There’s something I need to talk to you about.”

My heart jumps to my throat. Not more bad news. “What?”

Jordan pinches the bridge of his nose. “I received a threat.”

“Someone is threatening you?”

He shakes his head. “Not me. You.”

“Oh.” My shoulders relax. “I get threats sometimes. Don’t we all?”

Jordan winces. “Not like this. I’m concerned for you.”

I pull on my jacket. “What kind of threats?”

“It’s better if you don’t know the specifics, but trust me, they are worth taking seriously.”

“I take threats seriously,” I say. “I just don’t let them intimidate me.” I’ve put a lot of people in jail over the last few years. Threats are part of the package. It’s one of the reasons I have a concealed carry license.

“How is your home security?” Jordan asks.

My alarm system came with the condo. I haven’t given it much thought. “It’s fine.”

Jordan reaches out and takes my shoulders, looking deeply into my eyes. I don’t think we’ve ever been this close before, and the intense way he’s looking at me is unnerving.

“Fine isn’t good enough.” His jaw flexes, a muscle ticking under his five o’clock shadow. “I want you safe.”

“Don’t worry about me.”

His hands grip my shoulders tighter. “This is serious.”

His touch makes me feel trapped, and I take a step back. “I can handle it.”

Jordan shakes his head. “I know a guy who does private security. A professional bodyguard who knows his shit. He’ll check out your security and watch your back.”

A muscle twitches in my neck. I don’t need anyone watching my back. The last thing I want is someone trailing behind me, getting in my business, telling me what to do. And how would it look to everyone? Like I’m weak. Like I can’t take care of myself.No way.

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