"You're Heidi?"
"Yeah? Actually, I prefer to go by Elise, but?—"
"You," he gestures at me, up and down, like he really needs to clarify this point for both of us. Like maybe I'm the one confused here. "Youare Everett Frost's sister?"
Jessica busts up laughing. I can't sense this guy's emotions—he must be wearing mytherun somewhere—but he's in suchcomedic disbelief that I'm suddenly fighting my own giggle before I get a hold of myself.
"Yeah, I know. Not a lot of family resemblance." How could there be when my brother became a supermodel and I became a baker? "If you need proof, my face is kind of all over the news right now," I add, wrinkling my nose at that thought.
He's still staring, his eyes tracing my features. His voice lowers as if he's talking to himself.
"Shit."
18
HEIDI
I placethe back of one of my hands against my still-burning cheeks to try to cool them off as I awkwardly open the door a bit wider. Thunder rumbles somewhere far away in the gray midday sky, warning that Pheli, the god of the sky, is preparing a storm.
“Do you want to come in for a moment? It’s chilly out here, and I should call Everett to get this sorted out, because I really don’t need a bodyguard?—”
“What the hell?” he barks.
His voice is so unexpectedly angry that I jolt, alarmed before I see his attention pinned on the angry, mottled bruises still fading at a snail’s pace on my arm. When he spies the equally colorful state of my other arm, he swears creatively and steps past me into my place, talking over his shoulder as he goes inside.
“Almost forgot, you were hit by a fucking bus yesterday.Don’t need a bodyguard, my ass.”
Speaking of ass, when I look down…wow.
This guy is built all over.
“I almost forgot how grouchy he is,” Jessica grins, looking at me. “I remember this guy—ever heard the name Douglas before?”
Maybe I’ve heard one of the Amatos mention that name once or twice in passing? I’m not sure, so I shrug.
“I heard about him before the Upheaval, since he was some hotshot expert mercenary bounty hunter guy—but then I got a ghostly front-row seat when your parents captured him and the Amatos. They had someone beat the ever-loving shit out of him,” she adds, huffy as always whenever the subject of my parents comes up. “Pretty sure they almost killed that hunk.”
I grimace. I’m not surprised, just sorry he had to experience the Frosts in all their glory.
But if Everett hired an expert bounty hunter just to keep an eye on me lazing around in my cottage in the woods as I keep out of the public eye, I’m really going to have to talk him down.
Jessica drifts after him into my house. I close the front door as the stranger scans the living room and attached kitchen. He’s not looking at it like most people do, like he’s just admiring the cozy setup. Instead, he’s clearly making strategic notes of the windows and back door, like he’s expecting someone to break in.
Evidently, this Douglas guy takes his job seriously. He’s probably a great bodyguard…for someone else.
Not for me. Everett’s just gone a little overboard.
Tidying the blanket and pillows on my couch, I turn to face the distractingly sexy ginger. He’s in standard legacy combat attire with a brown leather coat on top that almost hides the knife sheathed at his hip. Judging by the tattoo on his jugular and a couple of smaller ones peeking out on his hands, I’m going to guess he has more hidden.
“Listen, Mister?—”
Crap, Jess didn’t mention his first name.
He looks at me, folding his arms in an immovable stance. “Asher.”
“Asher,” I repeat, pretending not to notice the way his attention immediately drops to my mouth. Is he noticing it because of my birthmark right beside it? Gods, I should’ve put that foundation on before opening the door. “I appreciate you checking on me, but I’m already a thousand times better than I was yesterday. I’m sure you have better things to do, and there’s no need for me to have a big, strong, scary babysitter hanging around. Even if heiseye candy,” I add teasingly.
My playfulness momentarily throws Asher Douglas before he grunts. “Don’t flirt with your bodyguard, Murley.”
