She shakes her head. “That’s all for now, I guess?—”
“Done,” I answer without hesitation, then start the engine again.
6
SINCLAIR
“An entire galleryof pictures and I don’t need any guesses to know which work of art you’re staring at.”
“Huh?” I snap my eyes to where Zoey has appeared beside me.
We’re at an art gallery for Ashton’s latest showing. He draws portraits of both famous people and ones from his imagination. And Zoey. It’s how they met. She became his muse before he even saw her face. It’s such a romantic story that I love to hear her tell every time we have a few drinks.
The gallery is packed with men in tuxedos and women dripping in jewelry, wearing their best gowns. Ashton’s paintings sell for hundreds of thousands. Except the ones of Zoey. He’ll show some of them but refuses to sell a single one.
Zoey’s eyes twinkle as she tilts her head across the busy space.
“Seriously?” I snort, my eyes settling on Denver standing against a far wall, his eyes scanning the space in the over-the-top suspicious way that he does. He’s wearing a tuxedo tonight, instead of his usual black suit. The bow tie sits snuggly against his collar, hugging his broad neck.
“How long have we been friends?” Zoey asks.
“Forever,” I reply.
“Forever.” She hums. “Exactly. So I know when you’re enjoying having a guy at your beck and call, following you around all day. It’s okay, you can admit it.”
Her smile is teasing as I turn to her.
“It’s Denver. I’d rather have a PAP smear every waking hour of my life than have him with me every day.”
Zoey arches her brows, and I sigh in frustration. “He’s just… there. All the time.” My eyes flick back over to where he’s watching me. His dark brows lower over his eyes as we stare at one another.
“I can see that.”
I break Denver’s eye contact and note the smirk on Zoey’s face.
“I don’t like having him follow me around. I told you already.”
“Prove it. Go over there and spend some time with him. If you try and get along with him, maybe he’ll feel less like an intense bodyguard and more like a?—”
“If you say boyfriend, I might scream.”
“I was going to say friend, but…” Zoey shrugs, her eyes sparkling.
I narrow my eyes at her.
“Come on.” She laughs. “He must be bored as hell standing by himself all night.”
“He’s used to it.” I sniff, my gaze traveling back to him. “Ah ha! See!” I nudge Zoey. “He isn’t alone. Someone’s talking to him.”
Zoey follows my gaze to where a woman in a black dress with a plunging neckline has commanded Denver’s attention. Someone walks past them, making her lose her balance. Shewobbles and reaches out, placing her palm over Denver’s chest to steady herself.
“Oh, yeah,” Zoey says, watching as Denver helps her gain her balance, then smoothly removes her hand from his chest. “What’s his story, anyway?”
“He left the SEALs before he came to work for my father. Said he wanted to stay near New York because he has family nearby, but he never takes a day off, so I don’t know when he sees them.”
The woman he’s with tilts her head back, laughing. She’s totally faking it and flirting with him. Denver isn’t funny and he doesn’t make jokes.
“This is the Upper East Side, Princess, not the Bronx.”
