Page 8 of Another Round
Genuine fear floods her wide eyes, while disgust pools in my stomach from the faint yellow bruising still visible on her left cheek. Rage seethes in her face, and she twists uselessly against my fists. “What are you doing?”
What the fuckamI doing? Shit. Bodyguards don’t manhandle their clients regardless of how disobedient they are. I loosen my grasp and caress up and down the heated skin in apology for being too damn rough. “Getting your attention. You need to cover yourself.”
“I always wear this when I run at home.”
“Well you’re in the Midwest now, and women here are more modest.”
Because men are dirty bastards everywhere and won’t hesitate for a second to ogle her. I can’t allow that to happen any more than it probably already does.
“Oh.”
She accepts my exaggeration of the regional differences, unaware that I’m pretty much full of shit. I’ve seen similar and even worse here, but she doesn’t need to know that. I release her completely, and she quickly steps back. Putting as much space between us as she can until she bumps into her door. Never tearing her eyes from mine as she reaches back to turn the knob and scurries into her apartment.
I force myself not to follow her. And do what? Apologize. Explain. Rationalize.
Fuck.
Frustration pulses through me while I pace. This is why I don’t like these kinds of jobs. I’m not good with people unless I’m assassinating them. That’s easy. This—with her—is harder than hell. I should have told Nick no. I should have told him fuck no and fuck himself. I should have told him—
Evie fills the entryway. Hands balled in tiny fists on each side of her narrow waist. Beautiful and contrary in a black tank top. A damn fucking tank top rather than the tee shirt I demanded.
I should tell him thank you for bringing someone so amazing to fill my dull, lifeless existence. That gorgeous eyebrow lifts again. Just waiting for me to argue or fuss or attack. I shock her by doing absolutely nothing. Just stare back into her luminous sapphire eyes.
We face off. Neither of us willing to back down or back off. Until she finally fails to stifle the grin she’s been fighting since she returned to the corridor.
“I think you’re even more stubborn than I am.”
I nod in complete agreement. “I think you’re a hell of a lot more trouble.”
“Told you.”
I can’t help but sigh. Long and laborious with exaggeration. “Yes, you did.”
She tries to brush past me, looking over her shoulder with a smirk as she jogs toward the steps. But I hustle around her. Huge mistake on her part if she thinks I’ll let her go first when we leave the building without me checking for issues. Unlikely anyone will be waiting to ambush us, but you never know. And I always have to know.
With her behind me, I palm her stomach to hold her in place until I give the all clear. Her petite body shivers under my hand. When I glance back to see what’s going on, her eyes stay glued to the step. Must be a reaction to the heavy breeze blowing off the river because she can’t be scared. She knows this routine and understands what I would do to protect her. I scan each inch of the sidewalk, scrutinizing all the windows and perusing every line of rooftops. Sweeping across both directions twice until I’m satisfied she’s safe.
I don’t get any complaint when I step outside and give her leeway to join me. I guess she is used to waiting for security inspections after all. Good. At least we don’t have that to argue about. “Ready?”
“Yeah.” She taps her mobile and a map pops up on the screen, a thick red line reflecting the route she’s already selected. “I thought we could go on River Trail B. It’s only six miles so if you want something longer we can go on C instead.”
Only.She’s going to fucking kill me. Shrugging with a nonchalance I hope seems legit, I nod. “Nah, B is fine.”
Her stunning smile answers in response, and we walk in silence toward the new barbeque place that’s prepping to open in a few weeks. Once we pass the last orange barrier edging the construction zone, she eases into a run. Well I guess that’s all the warmup we’re going to get.
I keep pace when she kicks up to what I assume is her regular speed, but just barely. Her short legs move fast next to my long strides. Okay, so I’m not keeping up when she juts out in front of me a few times and has to slow to wait for me to catch up next to her. Fucking embarrassing.
After a few minutes we settle into a matching tempo. Too slow for her and almost too fast for me. Although I appreciate her lack of arrogance or insult about my weak cardio game. Only a few cheerful grins when I glance at her as part of my continuous inspection of our surroundings. Just because I’m flailing like a tosser doesn’t mean I can slack on my guard duties.
“I love your accent. What part of England are you from?”
Really? She wants to talk now when I can barely suck oxygen into my lungs? “Grantham. A small town about one hundred and twenty miles north of London.”
“Oh wow! I’ve always wanted to visit London. Did you get to go a lot?”
“My mates and I took the train almost every weekend until I met my wife. Then I settled down for a while.”
Then I lost her and my mind for a while. Confusion lines her flushed face since I obviously live very much alone now.
