I open my eyes and have to reorient where I am. Right. Rome, Kentucky, sleeping in the room that will be mine for the next month. I roll my head to the right and am assaulted with a piece of embroidery art hanging on the wall: Bless This Mess. It’s really too bad the guard shack isn’t finished yet, and I have to sleep at the inn.
Since I was here last, Amelia and Noah have made a lot of alterations to their property. Not only did they install a top-of-the-line security system around the house and the perimeter of their property, but they are building a security house on the premises. For now, there is a small surveillance trailer at the front of the property where Harold monitors at night and then trades off in the morning with another guy, Sam, to monitor during the day.
I’ve worked for several celebrities during my career as an executive protection agent (or bodyguard, as the masses call us), and every celebrity approaches their security differently. Some think having a security team is a waste of money, and they don’t put nearly enough into their own protection. I hate seeing that. Usually it takes something really awful happening to wake them up and show them that more money needs to be thrown into their security budget.
But then there are people like Amelia, who have always taken their safety seriously (except for the time she bolted in the middle of the night and didn’t tell any of us where she was going). Fortunately, this town is safe for the most part, and no one, not even the press, knew where she was for a while. She was never in serious danger. Plus I’m confident Noah would have beat the shit out of anyone who came near her. But now word has gotten out as paparazzi have spotted her here in town, which, unfortunately, has put Rome on the map. So Amelia puts an enormous amount of her income into security, which is why I’m here. I’ll follow Amelia around through the month and make sure she stays safe and unbothered.
On tour, my job is exciting nearly all the time. I sweep locations before she goes in, and then I accompany her everywhere, constantly scrutinizing the people around us, and sometimes intentionally blocking the paparazzi’s view if she doesn’t want to be photographed that day. And during concerts, I hover backstage, ready to help restrain any overzealous fans who get past stage security and onto the platform.
I generally only work eight hours at a time unless we have a concert at night, but I get more breaks than you’d think. Usually when Amelia is just hanging at home or in her hotel room, the surveillance guys take over. That’s when I get downtime to explore whatever city we’re in and meet all kinds of people. Thanks to my job, I’ve gone skydiving in Paris, snorkeling in the Bahamas, and ATV riding in Cape Town. I always try to do at least one exciting thing that each city is known for.
But now I’m in Rome, Kentucky, staring at a white ceiling in a frilly bed-and-breakfast where absolutely nothing exciting takes place. There’s only one bar in town and nothing else. Forget adventure. Looks like I’ll have to take up embroidery.
It’s only a month, and it’s for Amelia, I remind myself.
I throw on a pair of athletic shorts and running shoes and spend the next hour jogging through this backwoods country town. My bad mood slowly melts away as I watch the sun come up and highlight the wheat and corn fields. Everything is gold for a few minutes, and although I’ve always been more of a city guy, even I can admit that summertime in the country is beautiful. The grass is so green it almost doesn’t feel real. Eventually I loop my way through the town just as shop owners are opening their doors.
And that’s when I notice it: eyes peering at me from all directions. Through shop windows. Peeking out entrances. Around corners. Even though I’m drenched with sweat and dead tired, I pick up my speed because I swear everyone in this town is moving out of their shops like a freaky horror movie to stare at me as I run by. What the hell?
When I finally make it back to the inn and am bent over, hands on my thighs trying to catch my breath, a pair of black flats enters my line of sight. They stop right next to the big drop of sweat that just fell from my forehead to the pavement. It’s so hot out I swear it sizzles.
I look up and find none other than Amelia Rose in her dark jeans, black-and-white-striped tee, and a travel coffee mug in hand—a big bag with a logo for the local diner hangs off her arm. Her eyebrows lift, and I’m still too out of breath to say anything more than, “Hey. I’m back in town.”
“I see that,” she says, amusement coloring her tone. “I was just picking up some breakfast from the diner and thought I’d come by and make sure you got settled in. But here you are.” She sips her coffee, looking like she could laugh.
“Here I am.” I can barely breathe still.
“So you jogged through town like that?”
“Like what?” I say, finally standing to my full height and using my wadded up T-shirt to soak up the sweat from my face and neck.
“Bare chested and a walking billboard for your tattoo artist?”
I look down at my abdomen as if I’m just realizing I’m not wearing a shirt. “Yeah,” I say, looking up at her and still breathing heavily. “Is that bad? Is there a dress code around here for running?”
Again she smirks. “Not officially. But I better get back home so I can field all the calls about to flood my landline.”
“Wait, why?” I ask her retreating back.
“Because the gossip train is going to be chugging along at warp speed this morning. Gotta catch it before it gets too far!” She raises her mug. “Come up to the house after you get changed. We’ve got lots of breakfast to share!”
Executive protection agents are not supposed to enjoy sit-down breakfasts with the people they are protecting. And yet Amelia has always been determined to add me to her circle of friends if it’s the last thing she does.
Half an hour later and freshly showered, I knock on Amelia and Noah’s front door. She opens it with her landline phone stuck to her ear. “Uh-huh. Absolutely. That’s an excellent point, Harriet, I’ll be sure to pass that along.” She smiles and waves me inside.
I have to step over the curly phone cord that is running from the kitchen around the small island, disappearing around the corner wall, and then down the hallway and up to the phone she’s holding. It’s also looped once around her waist.
Amelia points toward the living room, gesturing for me to go in and have a seat. She spends the last bit of her conversation on the phone unraveling herself from the cord. I hear a door open and shut behind me, and when I see Noah appear from the hallway, I stand.
“Will,” he says coming into the room and extending his hand. I clasp it, and we give each other a firm shake. “It’s good to have you back.”
I genuinely like Noah. Amelia dated a few guys before him whose teeth I wanted to knock down their throats. But this guy is legit. He’s loyal and puts Amelia first. I trust him and he seems to trust me.
“It’s good to be working for Amelia again.”
He grins. “I’m not sure the town shares your joy.”
“What do you mean by that?” My eyes track his gaze over my shoulder to where Amelia is still on the phone, nodding absentmindedly to whoever is blabbering her ear off.
“That’s her fourth call since you got back from your run.”
We both turn our attention to Amelia as she finishes her call, slowly moving the phone from her ear, closer and closer to the receiver at every word. “Yep…Uh-uh…Absolutely…Okay…I will…Bye now!” She hangs up and sags dramatically against the wall, sliding all the way to the floor. And then she points, leveling her finger at me. “You!”
“Me?” I say with lifted brows, pointing at myself.
“Yes, you! You just had to run this morning with your shirt off, causing an uproar in the entire town.”
“Are you kidding?” This has to be some sort of joke.
Noah shakes his head. “Nope. Town’s in a tizzy. You really did it this time.”
Amelia stands and walks into the living room. “I just got off the phone with Harriet, who did not at all appreciate the way you paraded your nakedness around town—inviting the unmarried young ladies to stumble into lust.”
My jaw falls open. I’m speechless.
Noah shakes his head at me. “So unthoughtful. Are you trying to seduce them? Your first day on the job?”
“Who? The young ladies?” I raise my hands. “No. I swear. I just got hot and took off my shirt like I normally do, and…” I pause when I hear both of their barely contained laughter. “And you’re messing with me.”
Noah nods this time, smirking. “We’re messing with you.” He walks by and claps me on the shoulder. “Welcome back to Rome. Where no one has anything to do but complain about one another.”
He passes Amelia and stops to kiss her on the mouth—not a long kiss and not a short kiss either. Just…heartfelt. I rub my chest. “I gotta get to work. I’ll see ya after a while. And Will,” he turns back to me. “Please do your best to keep your damn clothes on today.”
“I’ll try.”
Once he’s out the door, Amelia pours me a cup of coffee and I sit at their little kitchen table. We catch up for a few minutes, and she tells me what’s been going on in more detail with the press and a few superfans who get a little too close for comfort. We set up a game plan for the month and decide that we’ll go on a day-to-day scheduling basis. A morning meetup to see what her plans are for the day, and then I’ll be around to escort her into town and anywhere else she needs to go, but I don’t need to hang around while she’s home or in her studio. She’s apparently working on a new album and will spend a lot of time here, and I’ll be left to my own fun while she does. Goody.
She’s hopeful that after the wedding, everything will calm down. Either way, I plan on asking to be transferred to a different client after the month is up. Not because I don’t like working for Amelia—I always have—but I won’t stay put in this town for a minute longer than necessary. Boredom does not suit me.
“So that sounds good to you?” she asks.
I nod. “Sounds great. I’m here for anything you need. Seriously, yard work? Gutters cleaned? I’m your guy. You know I get stir-crazy when I have nothing to do.”
Amelia laughs. “I do know. Which is why I’m happy to hear you say you’d be willing to help out with other things in your downtime.”
I sit forward, eager to know what she has in mind. “Yes, anything. Name it.”
If I’m not mistaken, her smile turns a little mischievous. Anyone else would see that smile and think she was implying something sexual. But knowing Amelia as I do, it’s definitely not that. It’s something different. Something tricky. Something I’m not going to want to do.
“Great. For starters, do you mind taking a letter into town for me?”
“Sure,” I say, dragging out the word to let her know I’m onto her. “Like to the post office?”
“Nope.” She grins wider. “To the flower shop, actually.”
And because there’s only one flower shop in town, that means I’ll be seeing Annie Walker today. Shit.
If I wasn’t on edge before, on my way out the door with a discreet little white envelope in hand, Amelia calls out, “Hey, Will!”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t say no, okay?”
“To what?”
“To what’s in that envelope.” The look on her face is all plea and genuine something. “Please don’t say no.”
