Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 103008 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103008 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
Well, shit. I didn’t expect that deep of an answer, and I have no idea what to say to something like that.
He huffs. “And the worst part is, breaking up the boy band did nothing to change that. I’m still not who I want to be.”
I twirl my fork in my hand. “Who do you want to be?”
“Myself.”
“And who is that?”
“Right now, I’m a scared guy with an unloaded gun who needs someone bigger and stronger to protect me. That’s all I know for sure.”
Yikes. That’s a lot to unload. I stare at him blankly.
As if sensing my inability to speak, he fills the silence. “Shit, sorry. That’s heavy for the first of what I assume will be many meals together.”
“We don’t have to eat together. That’s up to you. I can be as invisible or as involved as you want.”
“I don’t mind,” Harley says. “It’s better than eating alone.”
I can’t help feeling sorry for the guy, though I wonder why his fiancée doesn’t eat with him other than she’s under the Hollywood delusion that women need to be a size zero.
Iris’s words telling me we should get to know our client ring through my head, and I hate when that fucker is right.
“I do have some things to go over,” I say.
“Like?”
“I’m going to need a list of everyone who has access to your house—like who’s allowed to be here and when I can expect them, so, uh, we don’t have a repeat of what happened today.”
“So you don’t tackle my vocal coach or personal trainer? Got it. I wrote a list for Iris earlier. I think it’s all still in the living room.”
“Okay, next thing. The gun. Have you ever used one before?”
“No.” He holds up his hand. “And before you say it, I know Gideon did the right thing by not loading it.”
“Did he also tell you that eighty-five percent of gunshot wounds happen because people don’t know how to use a gun properly?”
“Umm … no.”
“If you really want to learn to protect yourself with a gun, I can teach you.”
“Really?” His eyes light up.
There are people who have clearly worked their whole lives to get where they are, and it’s obvious they’ve fought hard for it. Harley’s not that person. Harley is the type that when he pulls a certain expression, you just know he was born to be in the spotlight because he’s absolutely breathtaking.
I’m sure he has worked hard, I’m not doubting that, but with that face? He was destined for fame from the beginning.
I shake that thought off. “I figure if you ever get your hands on another gun, you should know how to use it so you don’t shoot yourself … or me.”
Harley laughs. “I’d like to learn. I mean, I don’t see myself ever needing to use a gun again because I have you now, but I want to.”
“Then we’ll do it.”
He finishes his meal and stands. “I’m ready for you to check my room now.”
“Isn’t Evah already in there?”
“We have separate rooms. She … snores.”
Could be true. I doubt it because his face is doing this weird tic thing, but I’m willing to let it go for now.
Maybe they’re having problems, and I’m so not here to get into that or to care.
I follow him through the house and up to the second floor. “You’re still going with that ridiculous list of demands?”
“Yep. You get bonus points if you somersault into the room.”
“I’m not doing that.”
Then he levels me with a look. It’s part pleading, part mocking, but I see a glint of fear as well. I don’t think he means for me to see it, but I’ve seen that look before. On countless faces, in countless dangerous situations.
It’s the look of trying to be strong because there’s no other choice.
Breaking down isn’t an option.
And now I feel even more sorry for him.
It might be mostly a joke to him, but I realize Gideon is right. The break-in has affected Harley deeper than he lets on.
“Fine,” I huff, keeping up the façade.
I leave him outside his door to check his room, the connected bathroom, and his closet. I even look under his bed at his request, but when I step back out, I refuse to do what he asks.
Then he looks up at me with puppy dog eyes and a cute pout, and damn, his stormy-blue eyes are hypnotic.
I clear my throat and find myself saying, “All clear.”
He breaks into the biggest smile as he heads inside his room. “Goodnight, Rambo.”
“Night, Pop Star.”
Chapter Five
Harley
I overheard way more than I should have earlier. Brix told Iris to keep his distance—to be professional. So, that’s all I’m doing. I’m making him be the most thorough bodyguard he could possibly be.
And, okay, when he offered to train me with a gun, I was going to drop the silly demands.