When she puts it like that, I feel like an un-gentleman. “But I had an NDA and everything,” I say, and dammit. That doesn’t sound much better.
“But you had an NDA and yet you’re explaining right now. So you could have then.”
Fact is, she’s right. Ishouldhave said something that night. I’d thought I was being gentlemanly sending a letter, but now that I’m hearing how it sounded from her POV, I chose badly. Plus, I ended the letter trying to protect myself rather than her.
I did the opposite of what I vow to do in my job—protect my clients and keep them safe. But no time like the present. I clear my throat, ready to tell her she’s right, and I could have done better, when her phone trills.
After grabbing it from her pocket, she checks the screen, holds up a finger, then answers, saying brightly, “Hi, Haven.”
A pause. “Everything’s great.”
Another pause. “He’s…great.”
One more pause. “It’ll be fabulous. No, it’ll be fun having a bodyguard.” There’s a whole cheer squad on the other line, it seems. “Yep. Don’t you worry about a thing. Everything will be fine.”
As she moves to the sink, straightening up while she rolls through a series ofbut how are yous andI can’t wait to see you soons, I’ve learned something key about Ripley.
She desperately wants to make Haven happy. So she probably didn’t tell Haven about that night. Because that info wouldn’t make Haven happy. That also translates into the fact that Ripley’s probably not going to tell her now either. Which means—drum roll—I’m exonerated. With a reprieve in hand, I vow to focus only on doing the best damn job possible.
When Ripley hangs up, she turns around, meeting my gaze. Goddamn, she’s gorgeous. Those fiery eyes, those pretty lips, that fearless attitude. Her tough side is my undoing. All the more reason to stay strong.
“Anyway,” Ripley says, waving a hand like this entire thing is no big deal. “You know what, Banks? Let’s just move on.”
Message received and gladly accepted. But there is still the matter of working together to iron out. “So you’re not going to try to escape from me again?”
“I make no promises.”
“Ripley,” I warn her. “You just said let’s move on.”
“This is you moving on? Making sure I help you do your job?” she asks, but she’s sassy now. Not angry. That’s a welcome change.
“Yes. This is me moving on. Part of me doing my job is working with you, not against you.”
“I’m not going to try to escape from you.” She pauses before she adds, “All the time.”
“Then I’ll just have to stay real close to you…all the time.”
She narrows her eyes, huffing. “Fine. I won’t try to escape, but I can’t have you up my ass.”
I snort. “I won’t be up your ass.”
“Or too close,” she adds.
“I’ll give you spaceifyou don’t pull a runner.”
“So many rules.”
I can tell she doesn’t want to follow them. I can tell, too, she’ll try to bend them. But she also needs them to keep her sister safe. “Rule number one is I keep you safe. From paps who think you’re Haven. From fans who think the same. From anyone who might cause trouble now that your sister has all this extra attention on her.”
“Thanks for spelling it out,” she says dryly.
“You’re welcome. Rule number two is you don’t try to run away from me as I keep you safe.”
“What’s rule number three? Do I have to doeverything you say?” It’s said tauntingly.
“Sure. I like that rule.”
“I bet you do.”
