We’re walking through at a snail’s pace because it seems like everyone wants to stop London and talk to her. I can’t blame them, but I’m also frustrated because these types of events are harder to manage sometimes.
A woman stops in front of London and me. “Dillon. It’s been a long time.”
I barely recognize the woman. It’s been years since I saw her. I just nod, but she stands in front of us.
“Maybe we can catch up… like old times.”
She wiggles her eyebrows at me, and London turns and looks at me with disgust. I tighten my hold on London’s waist. “Sorry, I can’t. I’m working.”
Which apparently is the wrong thing to say. London swings her head away from me but not before I saw the hurt and anger reflected in her eyes. London starts walking, and I have to jog to catch up with her. “London.”
She shakes her head. “Forget it, Dillon.”
I reach for her arm. “Hey, talk to me.”
She pulls from my hold. “Forget it.”
Her name is called from the stage, and London is automatically a professional. She’s smiling and waving. She’s giving autographs as she walks up to the podium. I’m on edge the whole way, crowding her more than I usually do. I’m blaming it on my lack of sleep, but it’s just an excuse. I want to be close to London,and if I need to use the fact that I’m her bodyguard as an excuse, that’s what I’ll do.
She’s about to take the stage, and I wait for her to look at me. We’ve done this for months now, and when she gets nervous, she looks at me. I always give her a reassuring nod and let her know I’m right here, but today, she doesn’t even glance my way. London is a confident woman, but speaking in public is not something she enjoys. There’s a pit in my stomach as I stand at the very edge of the stage, and even though I want to keep my eyes trained on her, I force my gaze out to our surroundings.
It isn’t long before London has won over the crowd. She makes them ooh, aww, and laugh. They ask her about her being the Queen of the Rodeo, her barrel racing performances, and all the awards she’s won. She plugs a brand of jeans she’s contracted with, and when the interviewer asks if she can get personal, I hold my breath.
I’m not sure exactly where this is going, but I have an idea.
London smiles. Most people would think she’s unfazed with the change in questions, but I know her best. Her fingers are tense as she wipes a stray hair off her face. “Yes, of course. Ask me anything.”
The interviewer leans toward her like they’re just two girls talking over tea instead of in front of a crowd. “So… one question everyone wants to know the answer to… are you single?”
She sucks in a breath, and I swear she’s avoiding my gaze. “Yeah, I am single.”
The crowd is shocked, and I can’t say I blame them. But those four words are not enough for the interviewer. “Sooooo,” shebegins. She cups her hand under her chin and leans toward London. “No prospects? No cowboys you like?”
My heart does a flip in my chest.Me!I want to scream, but I remain standing, tense, stoic, and acting as if I’m in control.
“Wellll,” London says, drawing it out. “There is one guy. But he turned me down.”
The gasp from the crowd is deafening. London gives a soft smile, and it’s obvious to me she’s hiding her true feelings. “It’s okay. I’m okay.”
The interviewer squeals with glee. “Well, I’m sure there are plenty of cowboys in the audience or who are riding today that would love to take you on a date.” She waves her hand around the crowd. “What do you think, everyone? Can we help London McCoy get a date?”
It’s like a stampede or something with all the noise. Women are cheering, men are whistling and cat-calling, and my blood pressure spikes. I fist my hands at my side.
London is all smiles, but she’s obviously uncomfortable. She stands up. “Well, I gotta go check on Queenie. Thank you for having me out.” She points at the crowd. “I hope you stick around for the barrel racing this afternoon.”
The interviewer thanks London and then addresses the crowd. “All right, everyone, give it up for the Rodeo Queen, London McCoy. Thanks for being here, London.”
She’s waving and smiling until I lead her behind the stage. I grab her hand, not caring that everyone is looking at us with curiosity. I walk her down the hall, and the first empty room I find, I pullher into it and shut the door behind us. I’m simmering mad, trying to control it. “What the hell was that?”
She blinks up at me. “What was what?”
I point at the door. “That woman was trying to pimp you out. Do you have any idea what you just did? Now everyone with a dick in their pants is going to think they have a chance with you.”
She rolls her eyes in irritation, and I’ve never wanted to kiss her more than I do right now. “London, I’m serious. I’m here to protect you, and I can’t do that if it’s pure fuckin’ chaos.”
She puts her hands on her hips. “Then quit. If I’m such a fuckin’ problem for you… quit.”
It’s like I go into a panic. I grit my teeth. “I’m not quitting.”
