Bodyguard (Hollywood A-List #2)

But something inside me had shifted. I had to do something. Take a risk. Move forward.

Grey hadn’t been cooperative, but I got her by the back of the neck and put her in the car. She curled up in the back seat as if nothing I could ever do would be a big deal to her. There was nothing she couldn’t get over. I admired that. It would be stupid to think I could emulate her equanimity, but I respected it.

I turned onto Lorraine. Earlier in the evening, when I’d passed with Fabian, Carter’s lights had been off. Not this time. This time the windows glowed with homey light. I parked in front.

The first time I’d been to his house, I was peeking in on his life.

The second time, I’d used his home as a haven.

This time, I didn’t know what I’d come for besides the cat, but I’d come for more. I knew that. Poor Grey was just an excuse.

When I opened the back door, she slipped out before I could grab her and ran up to Carter’s porch. She looked at me from the top step and meowed as I walked up the front path.

I was just going to pass Grey over and ask politely if he’d like me to get the supplies out of the trunk. We’d promise to have a clean handoff when I was back from Vegas. I’d ask if he’d mind watching her when I traveled. He’d say he’d love to watch her. Phin could take an antihistamine. We’d be the most reasonable feline custodians in Los Angeles.

Grey accompanied me to the door and walked figure eights between my legs as I rang the bell.

Brenda might answer. That would be a bummer. She was great, but I didn’t want to see her. I wanted Carter, and as the seconds passed, the feeling of expectation expanded in my chest until I thought my ribs would fracture.

Rustling behind the door. A click and a tap. A whoosh as it opened.

It was him with two-day scruff and a T-shirt that had been new at the turn of the millennium. His feet were bare under the cuffs of his jeans and as perfect as anything I’d ever seen. My chest deflated as I breathed. He looked fine. Just fine. Exactly as I expected, his features and shape clicking into place. When he said my name, the sound of his voice was like the last of a thousand-piece puzzle.

“Emily?”

“Carter, I . . .”

“Crap!” Grey had run into the house and lodged herself on the couch. Carter went after her, but she dodged, running into the kitchen. Carter ran for her, and with a quarter turn, a pointed finger, and two words, he broke my heart.

“Stay here.”

Stay here? I couldn’t come in the house? Did I have some kind of disease? I could hear a small commotion and voices.

I walked in, through the living room, cutting around the dining room.

“No. I said no. Two letters. N. O.” Carter’s voice came from the kitchen.

Phin replied. “I read this article where if you want to get over an allergy, you have to expose your—”

He sneezed midsentence. I peered around the wall into the kitchen. Phin had Grey in his arms.

“I’m not moving a cat.”

“I. Don’t. Want. To. Move.” Phin’s eyes were on fire.

Grey saw me and jumped out of Phin’s arms. Carter’s gaze followed the cat to me where I stood in the dining room.

“I told you to stay there.”

“I’m not a delivery person,” I said. “You wanted me to keep the cat, but I have to go to Vegas, so you need to watch her.”

“Yes!” Phin shouted.

Carter and I were locked in a heated stare. This wasn’t going the way I’d hoped. This was going full shitstorm.

“Phin,” Carter said without moving his eyes from me, “go upstairs. Please.”

He hopped to it, and I couldn’t have explained his enthusiasm until Carter’s eyes flicked away from me. Phin had scooped up the cat as he headed for the stairs.

“No!”

The kid ignored him and took the steps two at a time.

Carter went for the stairs, stopped himself, turned to me, pointed as if he wanted to say something, then balled his hands into fists. He was frozen in the chaos. I wanted to hug him and slap him, in that order.

“I have the supplies in the trunk,” I said. “I’ll be back on Monday.”

I stormed out. I didn’t think he’d follow me, and with his bare feet, I didn’t hear him behind me until I was on the sidewalk, clicking the button on my key. The lights flashed and the car chirped. The trunk made a satisfying pop.

“You don’t get it,” he said, and I spun to face him. “We’re not the cat’s mommy and daddy.”

“What are we?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” I went at him, and he had to step back or get run over. “You had your dick in me. You don’t get to ignore my texts and move away. You don’t get to say you don’t know.”

“I have other things on my mind. You knew that better than anyone. But you make it worse. You come over here by yourself. Where’s Fabian? You ducked him, didn’t you? And why? Because you want me to worry about you too. Good job. Now I have to get you home and lock you in or I won’t be able to sleep.”

I slapped the trunk open because, fuck him. I didn’t want him to worry about me; I wanted him to love me. I didn’t know if he knew the difference, but I sure did.

“Look.” He indicated the contents of my trunk. Cat stuff and pink luggage. “You’re packed. You were going to leave for Vegas without security at all.”

“This is not even about me.”

“The hell it—”

“It’s about your sister.” I moved my makeup kit out of the way as if it were personally offensive and yanked up the bag of cat food. “You were a cop when she was killed. You didn’t protect her. Now you’re overcompensating. Which—”

“Don’t psychoanalyze me.”

“—is understandable. It’s actually kind of admirable. But then is then and now is now.” I threw the cat food on the grassy strip at the curb. “The kid wants a cat. Send him to an allergist, and give him a cat. But you’re all about refusal, aren’t you? You’re like a one-man no. Nope, can’t travel.” I flung the cat box at him. He caught it. “Nope, can’t bring you home.” The food bowl. “Nope, can’t be with you even though I love you, and don’t deny it. You love me.” I dropped the plastic bag of clean cat litter at his perfect feet. I couldn’t believe I’d said that. I was either clearer than I’d thought, braver than I’d thought, or fucked in the head.

I put my hand on the lid of the trunk. There was nothing in there but my cheerful pink luggage. I slammed it closed. “I understand the problem,” I continued when he neither confirmed nor denied he loved me. “What happened was awful and traumatizing for you and Phin both. But you’ve painted yourself into a corner, and you can’t get out of it because you don’t want to get your shoes dirty. So you act like a jerk.”

“I am not a jerk.”

“Jerk.” I chirped the doors unlocked. Two steps, and I reached for the door. Lightning fast in his bare feet, he got between me and the handle.

“You’re not going home alone.”

“You’re leaving Phin here? I don’t think so. Not until he’s twenty.”

I reached around him, and he bent to speak softly. I could smell the gunpowder on his body, all buzzing fireworks and things that exploded.

“I was going to call you and tell you.”