“Harris can be a bit of a smart-ass, and Dean will probably tell you all about his baby’s poops, but they’re good guys.”
Jas blinked. “Did you say—”
“Poops, yeah.” Samson waved his hand. “I don’t get it, either, but I guess different colors and consistencies of poops all mean different things. I think it’s a parent thing?”
“To be obsessed with poop?” That didn’t sound right.
Samson shrugged. “I try to give Dean the benefit of the doubt, he’s a great dad.”
“You’re going out in L.A.?”
Samson’s smile widened. “I know people here hate to drive, but yeah. It’s not so far, I promise.”
It wasn’t far. Rhiannon regularly commuted to Los Angeles from here when she stayed in Santa Barbara on long weekends.
“I’m not really one for bars or clubs.” Jas shied away from places that had too much alcohol and too much testosterone and too much music. Loud noises and raised voices made his head throb and made sleep difficult for days after.
“Clubs? Oh no.” Samson laughed and took a big gulp of his coffee. “I’m too tired for a wild Friday night like that, and Dean’s parenting a toddler. No, Dean wants to go out to a new Mexican vegan place, and then maybe our regular pub for a nightcap. It’s usually filled with older players. Nothing too rough. It’ll get your mind off things. You can crash at my place, or drive back here after, whatever works for you.”
Jas drummed his fingers on his thigh. What would he do tonight, if he didn’t get away from the house? Sit here and fret over McGuire?
Or over Katrina checking out that strutting asshole yesterday?
He agreed before he could change his mind. “Okay. I’ll drive separately.” He’d go down early to avoid rush-hour traffic and poke around the city. He made a mental note to beef up security here. Out of an abundance of caution, there was always a guard posted at the gate of the property, but he posted two when he left the premises, even for a few hours. One of his old Army buddies had started a security company as a second career. Lorne had also testified against McGuire, and had been the one to call Jas about the possible pardon. Jas trusted her to hire good people.
“No problem.” Samson rose and stretched. “I’m going togo shower and then head down. Rhiannon’s probably just waking up, and I want to say goodbye before she leaves for her trip.”
“See you tonight.” Jas showed Samson out, then loitered on the porch for a moment and checked his watch. Katrina was a creature of habit, so he knew at this exact second she was finishing reading her newspaper, catching up on the events of the world. She might be an angel investor by trade, but she was a collector of knowledge by nature. He’d never seen anyone inhale and synthesize information the way she did, on every topic imaginable, not just the ones related to the companies she invested in.
She’d carefully fold each piece of the paper when she was done and then make her way to the kitchen to cook breakfast. She cooked for him and Gerald, the housekeeper, as well as herself and her roommates. She’d always cooked for staff, even when she’d been married to Hardeep, and commanded a much larger number of employees. He’d never been a breakfast-eater, but he’d become one, which was no surprise. He clung to the crumbs of her affection, hoarding them carefully. He would eat brussels sprouts if she put them in front of him, and that was really saying something, given that they were tiny alien brains.
He’d been just shy of thirty when he’d first laid eyes on her. She’d been rushing to the courthouse for a surprise wedding with his ultra-rich boss, both of them wearing what was clearly the previous night’s evening wear.
Jas had been suspicious, as he was of all new people, andhe’d only had an hour to run a background check on Katrina. Twenty-four, half–Thai American and half-white, no criminal record, no bankruptcies, financially sound, lived with her father who also happened to be her manager. No red flags.
The bride had worn green for the wedding, a rumpled dress made of emerald silk. Her hair had been loose, thick brown waves cascading over her gleaming shoulders. Her gaze had been downcast for much of the ceremony, her responses to the justice quiet but sure. When Hardeep had kissed her, it had been a quick, dry peck on her upturned cheek.
Jas had met her eyes only for a brief moment during the ceremony, when he’d signed as witness, and something about her stark vulnerability had cracked through his suspicion.
He hadn’t fallen in love with her right then and there. His love had come later, as he trailed along behind her, protected her, discovered her quirks and quick wit. It was her small acts of kindness that had sucked him in, her clever intelligence and sweetness that had kept him hooked. She flowered open daily to receive and give affection and care to everyone in her orbit. She fascinated him. He had always dated sporadically, but his interest in other women had dwindled to zero over the past few years.
He asked me to go on a date with him.
Jas closed his eyes and counted to ten.You’re upset about this because you want to focus on something other than McGuire.
Bullshit.
You could tell her you love her.
No, he absolutely could not. His pining for her was his own concern. As was his intense jealousy of Mr. ToothyGrin.
He’d learned how to control his emotions at an early age, before he’d even entered the regimented world of the United States military. His grandfather wouldn’t have allowed anything else. Calm control was essential on a farm, where humans were often at the whim of animals, the weather, the land.
He knew how to strangle his feelings down deep, so deep he barely thought about the blood-and-horror-soaked event that had ended his career, or the backlash that came after from people he’d respected and sworn vows to, or how difficult it had been to readjust to civilian life. So difficult Jas had taken a position as a bodyguard for a man his grandfather had disdained, crossed continents to be away from all the reminders of what his life was not.
So he wasn’t about to go spilling his feelings all over Katrina. He shuddered. Imagine if she pitied him, or worse, was horrified. At the very least, their working relationship would never be the same. Then he’d be deprived of even the crumbs.
His watch beeped, reminding him that breakfast would arrive soon. The world was often unreliable, but Katrina was not. Another thing he craved about her, that tight, perfectly predictable schedule. It was like a soothing balm to the part of him that missed his regimented life.
