“Listen, Logan,” he says, clearing his throat. “I haven’t been...I haven’t always been a good father. I didn’t know what to do with my little girl after her mom...goddamnit,” he mutters.
“I’ll take care of your daughter, Marcus. I’ll keep her safe.”
He blows out a breath and I can almost see him nodding and tapping his left foot on the ground, just like he used to do in basic. “Thank you. I’ll pay double your normal rate since this is last minute and requires travel.”
“No fucking way,” I argue.
“Logan…”
“I won’t take money from you.”
“We’ll talk about it later. Right now, book a flight to sunny San Francisco.”
I grunt and we say our goodbyes.
Looking over at the unfinished shot of whiskey on the coffee table, I shake my head. Twenty minutes ago I was looking forward to a quiet evening alone. Now it looks like I'll be babysitting for two weeks.
Ten hours, five cups of coffee, and one very uncomfortable plane ride later, I’m on my way to Marcus’s house. I swallow down the rest of my shitty cup of coffee just as the cab pulls up to a fucking mansion. Marcus said his job paid the bills, not that it paid for a goddamn castle.
I look down at my worn-out jeans and black T-shirt, both wrinkled from folding my six-foot-five-inch frame into the middle seat of the plane for four hours. I know for a fact my breath smells like the stale coffee I just drank, and my beard could use a trim.
The cabbie looks at me in the rearview mirror as if he’s thinking the same thing I am. Are you sure you belong here?
I nod at him and hand the man my fare plus a tip before climbing out of the car and grabbing my duffel bag. The cab drives away, leaving me standing in front of the imposing double doors of my old military buddy’s house.
My training kicks in and before I knock on the door, I scan the surrounding area. I’m not just looking for threats, I’m assessing the security that’s already in place. How easy would it be for someone to break in?
I study the fence surrounding the grand estate, then the cameras that are angled toward the driveway. I make a note to talk to everyone who has access to the footage before turning my attention to the windows to look for potential points of entry.
“Mr. Bennett?”
My head snaps in the direction of the sweetest voice I’ve ever heard.
There, standing in the front doorway, is a goddamn angel.
She’s all soft curves, porcelain skin, and auburn hair. The angel even has on a white dress that flutters ever so slightly in the breeze. Her big brown eyes catch mine, staring right down into the depths of me. Why do I feel intensely vulnerable and ridiculously turned on by that? Is that a daisy woven into the long braid resting over her right shoulder? Who the hell is this creature?
My mind is spinning out of control as my heart crashes against my ribcage. What is she doing to me? Is this some sort of biological warfare? My hands start shaking so badly I have to ball them up into fists. Maybe it’s all the coffee I had. Yeah, that must be it.
She parts her pretty pink lips to speak, and I realize who she is.
I leap up the three porch steps and storm toward the door, needing her to get to safety. I gently but firmly grip her shoulder, ignoring the shockwave crawling up my arm, and push her back inside the house before kicking the door closed.
“What the hell were you thinking?” I bark out. When the angel flinches, an unfamiliar feeling washes over me. I don’t know what it is, but I don’t think I like yelling at her.
“Are you my bodyguard?” she asks, blinking those doe eyes up at me. I realize I’m still holding onto her shoulder, so I let my hand drop as I take a step back. I ignore the hollow feeling in my chest at the loss of contact.
“You opened the door for a monster like me and you don’t even know who I am?”
“You’re not a monster!” she insists.
Her response draws out a humorless laugh from deep in my gut. “You don’t know what I am, little girl.”
Shit, why did I say that?
“Well, that’s what I’m trying to get to the bottom of,” she says exasperatedly, throwing her hands out in frustration.
I didn’t realize until just now how small she is. And although she has generous curves I’m not letting myself look at, she’s a tiny thing compared to me.
I take another step back when I get a whiff of her sweet scent. Crisp apples and honey. Is everything about this woman mouthwatering?
“Spencer.” I grit her name out more harshly than I meant, but I need to get my head in the game. Getting lost in those chocolate brown eyes isn’t doing anybody any favors. Wait, are those freckles? How many does she have? I want to count every single one of them and…
“No…” she draws out. “I’m Spencer. Who are you?”
The innocent, feisty little angel looks at me like I’m an idiot. I want to roll my eyes and also kiss that look off her face. Dammit.
“Logan Bennett,” I finally answer.
“Ah-ha! I was right! You are my bodyguard!” Her satisfied little grin is almost worth the headache of our introduction, but I try not to dwell on that fact.
“You still shouldn’t be opening the door for strangers.” I fix her with a hard stare, but I hate every second of it. I don’t like putting her in her place. I don’t like glaring at her or scowling at her or any of the other ways I normally interact with people.
“But you just said—"
“In fact, you shouldn’t be by the door at all,” I continue. “What if I was your stalker?”
As soon as the words fall from my mouth I regret them.
Spencer’s face pales and her bottom lip trembles. She dips her head down, looking at her feet as her shoulders slump.
Fuck, why does it physically pain me to see her like this?
“Spencer, I—"
I’m cut off by my cell phone ringing. Thank God. I don’t know what I was about to say. I’m sorry? I don’t think I’ve apologized since...well, I can’t remember.
“Bennett,” I answer the phone, though I never take my eyes off Spencer. Because of my job, not because I suddenly need to be in her presence at all times.
“Did you find the place alright? Is Spencer showing you around? I told her you were coming and to be on the lookout for a mean looking, tatted-up motherfucker with a heart of gold.”
I grunt at Marcus, feeling the tiniest bit guilty for jumping down her throat when her own father told her to sit by the window and watch for me. I'll talk to him about that later when Spencer isn't right here.
“Just got here,” I confirm. “Spencer is…” How do I even finish that sentence? She lifts her gaze, those deep brown eyes meeting mine. She chews on her bottom lip nervously as if hanging on my every word. “Good,” I finally answer. “We’re just getting to know each other.”
The little angel gives me the briefest smile, her cheeks turning rosy before she averts her gaze. Christ, this is going to be a long two weeks.
2
Spencer
I’m already making a fool of myself in front of my new bodyguard, but I can’t help it. I’m awkward on my best day, but when the sexiest man I’ve ever seen came bursting in the front door, my mind went to complete mush.