Keeping Her Close. Carol Ross

Keeping Her Close - Carol Ross


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obviously felt for his friend.

      Inhaling a breath, he gathered himself and continued, “Despite your breakup, I know his death had to be hard on you, too. I imagine with how things ended, it was probably even more difficult in some ways than it would have been otherwise. Owen made it clear to me that it wasn’t over between you two.”

      Tears welled in her eyes, and she barely managed to blink them away before they spilled over. The Owen she knew did not deserve this kind of devotion.

      Sympathy was evident in the deep brown depths of his gaze. “Harper, I, um, I’m just so sorry. Those are words I should have said to you a long time ago. I thought about reaching out to you after Owen died, but I didn’t, and I’m sorry for that, too.”

      Harper nodded because she didn’t know what else to do; her tears, her pain, did not exist for the reason he believed, but she couldn’t find the right words to explain. But that wasn’t quite accurate. She had the words; she just didn’t know if she should use them.

      “I’m sorry for you,” she finally managed. And that, she realized, was true. She’d often thought about how differently she’d feel about Owen’s death if she hadn’t learned the truth. If he’d died before revealing his true character, before their breakup, she would have been devastated. Of course, she realized now that she’d fallen for a man who didn’t exist. It wasn’t the first time she’d been fooled.

      This man seated before her was no robot bodyguard. Her heart went out to him, but at the same time, she was almost jealous of him, of this pure emotion born of unsullied memories. She didn’t see any reason to spoil that for him, to cause him more pain. She decided she couldn’t do it, knowingly tarnish his memory of Owen. What possible purpose could that serve?

      Clearing his throat, he said, “You don’t have to talk about it. We don’t have to talk about this anymore. That’s not why I’m here. I did want to apologize, but your grief is your own, as is mine. And I want you to know that as far as I’m concerned, whatever happened between you two doesn’t have anything to do with you and me, with our relationship.” After a pause, he clarified, “Potential working relationship.”

      She could live with that. And him, she decided, going with her gut. She couldn’t imagine anything else that he could have said that would have eased her anxiety as much as the speech he’d just given. And he was right; she didn’t want to discuss Owen.

      “Okay,” she said, “You’re hired.”

      Instead of appearing happy to get the job, he frowned. “Are you sure? Do you want to ask me some questions first?”

      “No. I’ve heard—and seen—all I need to know.”

      He gave his head a little shake. “Please, don’t let that news story sway you. You know how the media spins everything.”

      “It’s not the news story,” she said, even though it was a little. “My dad trusts you.” The fact that he’d risked his own safety to protect her dad counted for a lot. “And I’m sure you met Dad’s head security guy, Denny?” At Kyle’s nod, she added, “Then you meet his standards, too, which are very high.” Weighing her next words carefully, she said, “You’re right that I don’t want to talk about what happened between Owen and me, but I will tell you that he trusted you. More than anyone. He had nothing but wonderful things to say about you. According to him, you were the best man and the best soldier ever.”

      Dipping his chin, he scrubbed a hand across one cheek before meeting her gaze again. “The feeling was mutual.”

      “I can see that,” Harper said diplomatically. She inhaled deeply and slowly and then eased out the breath. Was she crazy to agree to this? Maybe. But there was something so solid and comforting about this guy, and, if she were being honest, she wanted him to be for real. Without a doubt, she needed some help. He was right that she could have easily let some unknown, potentially dangerous person into her house tonight. Much of the time she didn’t even bother with the security system anyway. When she did, she often wasn’t sure if she’d done everything properly. The notion was rather sobering and lent an extra dose of urgency to his employment. She realized her dad knew all of this and had probably been experiencing something similar when he offered Kyle the job.

      “So…” she drawled. “How are we going to do this? Lecture and then lab? Or do you have like a personal security textbook, Stay Safe 101? Just to warn you, I’m awful at pop quizzes. After the first one, I will resent you for the entire semester and not perform to my highest capability.”

      Kyle sat back in his seat, seeming to relax a bit as he pondered her tongue-in-cheek questions. And probably her. Had he been nervous that she wouldn’t agree to hire him? That thought was rather endearing. It made him seem both human and normal, and it gave her confidence in her decision.

      But only briefly because his expression went stony again. Like granite. Hard, scary granite.

      Leaning forward, he placed his forearms on his thighs and tented his fingers. “It’s all lab, Harper. One hundred percent hands-on. And we’re going to start by getting you in shape. Calisthenics for one hour every morning at 4:30 a.m., followed by a five-mile run on the beach.” Tipping his head, he added, “But not your typical run. Every other day, we’ll add an obstacle course to simulate tactical evasion. And three days a week, we’ll have what I like to call target practice.”

      What. The. Whatty-what? Harper opened her mouth, shut it and finally managed to stutter, “Um, target what? I don’t know how to… I mean, I don’t—”

      He straightened, interrupting her with a stop-sign hand. “Relax, it’s not what you think. You won’t be doing any shooting. I’ll be shooting at you with a paintball gun while you try to dodge it. The less paint on your person, the more lunch you earn. Positive reinforcement can be helpful in specific, isolated training situations.”

      Harper knew she was gaping. Was he out of his mind? Had the word normal actually crossed her mind in conjunction with this lunatic? He was as messed up as Owen. More, possibly. She was still trying to decide how to proceed when his face broke into a wide smile, or at least she hoped it was a smile. The whole time he’d been here she’d yet to see it, so she couldn’t be sure. She kept still, waiting, in case she was misinterpreting the gesture. Maybe he was wincing or had something stuck in his teeth.

      Finally, he said, “Harper, I’m joking. I do have some basic protocol that we’ll cover. Your dad wants you to become an expert with your security system. But otherwise, we’ll just plan on doing this situationally, taking it one day at a time. Does that work for you?”

      Huh. She had not seen that coming. But she also liked it. A grin crept over her, and she laughed. He joined her, and Harper was momentarily mesmerized by the deep, rich sound. The smile that lingered transformed him. Harper met his gaze and warmth spread through her chest, making her head a little light, her thoughts a bit fuzzy. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d laughed like this, felt so at ease.

      That thought was sobering in itself, melting her laughter away. Because this situation was anything but easy; she officially had herself a bodyguard.

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      “ONE SOYSAGE, SPINACH and kale omelet.” Nora Frasier proudly set a plate in front of her only son. “Protein packed with two servings of veggies tucked inside.”

      “Thanks, Mom. Sounds delicious,” Kyle lied as Nora turned and sailed back into the kitchen.

      Soysage? Kyle mouthed the word to his seventeen-year-old quasi-nephew, Levi, who was sitting across the table from him in his sister Mia’s dining room. Kyle sniffed at his plate, and then whispered, “Does she think it will make it more palatable by having it sound more meat-like? Or that we’ll be so impressed by the clever play on words that we won’t be able to resist?”

      Levi let out a snort of laughter, which he convincingly covered with a cough. Or maybe he was choking. Poor


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