Page 23 of The Inevitable Us

I pause, thinking for a moment. Giving him a small half-smile, I tell him. “I’m Rosalie. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Garreth. Loft Two-Eleven. You should swing by sometime, Rosie.”

I inwardly twitch at the nickname that I hate and give him an awkward, small goodbye wave before I turn to leave.

“Hey, wait.” He jogs to catch up to me, carrying his nylon backpack over one shoulder. He’s California cool, his messy blond hair long on top. He was constantly brushing it away from his face…unlike Sawyer, who only allowed himself one….dang it, Rosalie, you were so close today.

I stop and turn to face my neighbor. “What’s up?” I ask, plastering a fake smile on my face.

“Next weekend, birthday party in my loft for my roommate. You should come.” He throws me an easy crooked smile that I’m sure some women find sexy. I prefer the tiny smiles I have to work for.

Anxious for a distraction, any distraction, I ask, “What was your loft number again?”

“Two-Eleven. Follow the noise. See you later, Stalker Girl.”

Shaking my head, I walk towards my building again. I’m two paces away from the heavy glass doors when I feel goosebumps rise to my flesh. Stopping on the sidewalk, I don’t see anyone or anything unusual. Shaking my head at my paranoid behavior, I walk to my loft, letting out the kittens to go run while I prepare their food.

I’mnotsurprisedwhenyet another text comes in from Rory.

Rory: Stop ignoring me.

Rory: He’s gone now. Can you please, please put all this behind you?

Rory: I don’t believe this whole “new job” bullshit, Rosalie.

Rory: WTF did you think was going to happen? If he hooked up with you, he could be blacklisted, not able to work as a bodyguard anymore. Did you ever think of what would happen to him if you got together?

The tears prickle my eyes, yet again, thank you, Rory. He won’t stop until I answer him. Instead of typing out a text, I send him a picture of Wednesday and Charlie lying on my sofa, hoping it placates him enough to back off.

I run into a Chinese restaurant and order enough takeout for three people before returning to my loft, thinking of Sawyer. He’s gone, and I’ll never ever see him again.

Wednesday and Charlie curl up in my lap once I’m done eating, their soft purrs comforting me as I start to doze off.

I only thought of him a little bit today, I lied to myself.Fake it til you make it.

Chapter thirteen

Sawyer

Hergazesweepsmeup and down as she stands with her arms crossed over her enhanced breasts. She shoots me a pout with her artificially filled lips, the rest of her face seemingly frozen from botox. “This one isn’t as big as the last one,” she whines to the ranch’s manager, Jay.

He rolls his eyes at the woman. “Taylee, Babe, I told you. Bigger means slower.” I’m so glad I quit my job of nineteen years, turning down many better offers only to learn I don’t meet the specifications of a starlet. If I didn’t have Rosalie to consider, I would be regretting not taking the job with the Saudi prince right about now.

Having worked for megastar Ethan Coleman much of my life, working for B list actress Taylee is a step down in the world. I keep my expression blank as she again looks me up and down.

Finally, she huffs. “He’ll do, I guess.”

Oh, yay, I’m so glad. I was holding my breath there for a minute, waiting for your approval.

She leans over, half whispering to Jay, “Did you offer the last guy more money to stay?”

Jay doesn’t bother answering but shoots me an apologizing glance. “Let’s go get you set up in the foreman’s cottage. You’ll love it. The cabin is over one hundred years old, but the plumbing and electrical were updated, and the interior was remodeled as a guest cabin by the previous owners.”

The last guy was my employee and wouldn’t have taken all the money in the world to stay. He’d said he’d wanted to get back to Nashville, but more and more, I’m not quite sure that was the reason.

I’ve told Jay that I own the security firm they’ve hired, so the other bodyguards are my employees. Taylee doesn’t seem to be aware of that fact. While I’m working at the ranch, I’m going to be running Benson Security from an office in downtown Knoxville on my off hours. After the incident in the woods with Rosalie, I’d started it up to take care of her, knowing I’d have to move on with my job. So far, it’s blossomed, making it harder and harder to work a full-time job. But I’m able to sneak in little moments during the workday— payroll on my lunch break, meeting with clients on my off days. It keeps me busy, but it’s working.

Passing a pen full of billy goats and another that houses sheep, he shows me to a good-sized log cabin that’s tucked away behind the sprawling ranch style home Taylee occupies. There is a third pen to the right, seemingly empty except for what appears to be an oversized wooden dog house. The words “Big Bertha” are painted above the door.

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