When Hardeep had died six years ago, Katrina had disbanded the rest of the security team with hefty pensions. Jas had assumed she’d give him notice as well.
Instead she’d summoned him to her office and quietly told him she wanted him to find her a nice house with an ocean view in California, and would he like to remain her bodyguard?
His yes had come very fast.
Jas picked up the phone from the weight bench and checked the display for the fifteenth time since he’d woken up an hour ago. He accompanied Katrina on all outings and was otherwise available to meet her needs, but he’d shifted into handling cyber security for her, her investment fund, and a number of the businesses she had shares in. His phone was always on him, and he was attuned to every noise it made.
For the past few days, though, he’d been on hyper alert for a 202 area code. No good news came out of Washington, not for him.
Nothing right now, though. The doorbell chimed again and he tucked the phone into the pocket of his shorts. He walked to the door, peered out, and silently groaned at the sight of the man standing on his doorstep.
Jas contemplated slinking away, but it was impossible to pretend he wasn’t home when his car was in the same large garage this man parked in. He unlocked the door and opened it, leaning against the doorjamb. Wait, did that look like he was trying to bar the guy from his home? He straightened.
Jas had never been a man who made friends easily, even before his life had turned upside down and he’d left the military. He was too slow to open up to people, or at least, that’s what more than one exasperated family member had told him.
Katrina’s part-time roommate, Rhiannon, had started dating Samson Lima about six months ago. Jas didn’t know exactly how Samson had slipped in under his guard. Possibly because Jas had been slightly starstruck: Samson had played pro, but he also came from a pro-football dynasty. Jas had grown up watching Samson’s uncle and father play ball. He’d owned a Lima jersey. A few of them, in fact.
The guy didn’t spend that much time at Katrina’s house—he and Rhiannon were usually together at Samson’s apartment in L.A. But when he was in Santa Barbara, he and Jas had settled into a habit of getting together for a workout or coffee.
Samson surveyed his sweat-soaked shirt and raised an eyebrow. “Whoa, there. You training for something?”
Jas swiped his hand down his chest. “Nah. Pushing myself a little, is all. Need to get my stamina up. I’ve been slacking.”
“You could have texted. I would have come and spotted you.”
Jas scratched the back of his neck. “Thanks, but I’m done now.”
“I actually came over to see if you wanted to go for a run or play some basketball. It’s been a while.” Samson was dressed in an old T-shirt and gym shorts. “Since you’ve already got your workout in, why don’t we have some coffee?”
Jas would rather they work out. Working out meant they didn’t have to talk. “Oh no, I wouldn’t want you to miss getting your—”
“I insist.” Samson took a step forward. A former linebacker, he was big enough to crowd Jas, and Jas took an automatic step back, enough to let the younger man slip through. “I’ll make the coffee.”
Jas’s smile probably looked more like a grimace. Short of tossing Samson bodily out of his house, he didn’t know what he could do to get the man out. And he couldn’t bounce him. Samson was much heftier, and also there was the whole thing about him dating Katrina’s best friend.
People and all their connections. So complicated.
He trailed after Samson as the other man went to the kitchen, a short walk in the cozy two-bedroom cottage. Katrina had partially bought this property because of the in-law quarters in the back. Jas had been happy to take her up on her offer to live in the small home. Situated a few hundred feet away from Katrina’s bigger house, its location struck a good balance between the protection he wanted to offer her and the distance he struggled to maintain between them.
Samson made a beeline to the coffee maker, familiar with the place in a way that made Jas nervous. It hadn’t made him nervous a month ago, or even a week ago, but then Jas had gone and opened his usually tight-lipped mouth. “Isn’t the French press making better coffee than that terrible machine you had?” Samson remarked. He pulled a coffee can from the cupboard.
“Yes, it is.” Coffee was always coffee, in his opinion: hot bean soup he occasionally drank when other people around him were drinking it. He preferred not to depend on any chemical on a day-to-day basis.
Samson set the electric kettle to boil and measured out the grounds while Jas fetched the mugs and cream for Samson. “How have you been?” Jas asked, because that was what you asked friends, even friends you were mildly embarrassed to talk to.
“Busy as hell with boring corporate stuff.” Samson leaned against the counter.
“Meetings for the new merger?” Rhiannon and Katrina’s dating app was merging with Samson’s aunt’s dating website, and it had kept Rhiannon and Samson busy in L.A.
“Yeah. Rhiannon and my aunt love each other, but they’re both two strong-headed CEOs. They need a pretty face to buffer.” Samson poured the hot water over the grounds. He brought the press over to the counter.
Samson took a seat on one of the stools. “I see you’ve added some new rosebushes.”
Jas remained standing and folded his hands in front of him on the counter. “Trying to get them in before the first frost.”
“How are your orchids doing?”
“Good.”
Samson rolled his empty mug between his palms. “Does this feel as awkward to you as it does to me?”
Jas tensed. The good thing about not having many friends was that he didn’t really have anyone to confide in, which meant no one later brought up the unpleasant things he told them.
But last week, when Samson had caught him moodily digging up some weeds in the garden at the big house, Jas had cracked. I got a call from an old friend, had been the first words out of his mouth, and then it all came out. They’d sat in the sunshine, Samson quiet while Jas had spoken.
So now he did feel awkward, damn it. “I don’t feel awkward,” Jas lied.
Samson poured the coffee. “I know awkward when I see it, man. What I don’t know is why.”
Because Jas had felt good after he’d told Samson everything, for a few hours. Then he hadn’t.
When Jas didn’t speak now, Samson nodded. “Look, I don’t have many friends.”
Jas squinted at that, because it made no sense. Samson was too . . . what was the word? Charming.
Samson nodded. “At least, not ones I’ve made in the last ten years. Except for Rhiannon, and Katrina, and, well, you. So I know it can feel weird, telling someone something personal. I haven’t told anyone what you told me, not even Rhiannon.” Samson shrugged. “I know it feels weird, letting someone in, but it can be helpful too.”
Jas wrapped his hands around the warm mug. “I didn’t mean to, uh, burden you.”
“Hardly a burden. If you feel embarrassed, you don’t have to be.” Samson braced himself on his elbows on the counter and nodded. “You know they used to call me the Lima Charm?” His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.