Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE_
ANGEL
Brix goes through our duties and responsibilities, and while technically, he will be protecting Harley, I’m assigned to his … team. Meaning, somehow, coincidentally, I’m in charge of Jamie’s safety.
It’s only been a month, but somehow, she looks younger. Like she’s had a chemical peel or Botox or something. This is Hollywood. It’s possible.
That only makes me think of her lips. How plump they are. How I almost got the chance to feel them against mine. Are they made of filler? Would that make them soft or hard?
I really hope Brix isn’t telling us important stuff right now because I’m not listening. Before I know it, the meeting wraps up, and we’re being told to go meet with our assignments. Another coincidence that mine is in this very room?
I take my chance to talk to her while the others are all distracted briefly catching up with Brix before they go on their merry way to the other boy band members’ houses.
Jamie watches me as I approach her, but the closer I get, the more her attention diverts to different spots of the room.
She’s still as cute as the night we met in the bar, her thick rims hiding her shiny hazel eyes.
This time, she’s the one in the skirt, though hers is professional knee-length, but even so, my gaze is drawn to her legs.
Never thought I was a legs kind of woman, but there’s something about the way hers look while wearing ankle-high red stripy heels that has me questioning if I can stay professional on this job.
It takes a billion years for me to cross the room and get to her, but as soon as I do, those pretty eyes flicker to mine.
“Y-you cut your hair.”
I can’t hide my grin. “It’s nice to see you again too. Hello. How are you?”
I was hoping I’d get to see her blush again, and it’s taken me less than ten seconds to do it.
“Right. Sorry. Hi.”
“Being single looks good on you,” I say. “Unless you’ve been making weekly appointments with Harley’s cosmetic surgeon.”
She frowns. “You know I’m single?”
Ope. She caught me there. “I … might have asked around about you.”
“But you never called me?” Jamie cocks her head.
“Not really my style.”
“Calling people?”
I snort. “Well, that too, but I meant chasing after straight girls because they drunkenly showed me attention. I’d rather wait until they convince their boss to hire me as their bodyguard before making my move.”
Jamie tries to hide her smile. “Smooth move, but how do you know that’s what happened here? Maybe this is all a coincidence and I’m not a crazy stalker person who convinced their boss to hire extra security when we probably don’t need it.”
“If that’s the case, then obviously fate wanted us to meet again. Though, I have to say, crazy stalker Jamie sounds more fun than leaving it up to the universe.”
Her plump lips flatten. “Well, now I don’t know whether I should admit to it or not.”
I laugh. “You don’t have to admit anything. I know all your secrets. Right down to the time you got six parking tickets in one week while on jury duty when you were eighteen.”
“They didn’t have it clearly marked,” she argues. “How was I supposed to know you’re not allowed to park in front of a fire hydrant?”
Young, naive Jamie is cute too.
“I mean, I know that now, but if you ask me, it’s rude that they make you do jury duty and then don’t supply parking for it.” She finally pauses. “Wait, how did you know—”
I lean in close to her and whisper, “You’re not the only one who has stalker tendencies. Plus, I have easy access to background checks.”
“After everything I’ve been through, that should probably scare me.”
She’s right about that. We probably shouldn’t be making jokes about stalkers when she had one a few years ago. But the way she said she should be scared … “Does it scare you?”
“Nowhere near as much as it should.”
Right answer. “Sounds like this tour is going to be fun.”
“It will be. You know how when you go to a concert and the band always plays a new song from their new track that you’ve never heard so you can’t sing at the top of your lungs? The guys didn’t do that this time. It’s all the classics. It’ll be amazing.”
I smile. “Jamie, I wasn’t talking about the concerts.”
And there I go, making those cheeks pinken again.
As a bodyguard, my job is to shadow Jamie but stay invisible. That’s really fucking impossible when she doesn’t stop moving. It’s like she runs on never-ending batteries. She really wasn’t joking when she said she thrives on chaos.
While it’s easy for me to keep up with her, I don’t know if I could do it wearing the heels she does.
The most I step outside my combat boots is a knee-high boot with little height. I’ll wear heels if I need to on a job, so I can walk in them if I have to. I just don’t want to. I’m convinced stilettos were invented by men for the sole purpose of not letting women run away from them.
But Jamie could be like that redhead in Jurassic World and run away from a T-Rex in hers. If there’s something I’m a sucker for more than a hot, nerdy girl, it’s competency. And watching Jamie tackle any and all situations that come her way definitely makes me take notice.
It’s the first show of the tour, so there’s bound to be teething problems, but she handles everything like a pro. She doesn’t fluster once.
Which makes me question if it’s a me-specific thing or a social stutter she has.
It’s not until halfway through the concert that she finally gets a chance to hang backstage and watch Eleven’s set.
The stage lights paint her face in blue and purple hues, and while she focuses on the guys, her lips moving along to every line of the songs, I’m only focused on her.
She’s wearing contacts tonight, so she’s missing the frames I like so much, but without them, her hazel eyes are free to shine. They practically dance with the reflection of the stage lights, and as she watches Eleven’s set, she has this glow about her. Like she literally radiates happiness.
I’d hate her if I wasn’t so damn attracted to her.
The concert winds down, and then we’re on the move again. If we were cartoon characters, steam would be coming from her heels.
I’ve been in war zones. I’ve shot people down, taken them out from over a mile away, and I’ve done shit no regular citizen could ever do. But this type of work? I couldn’t do it. No way.
Jamie is something special, and she deserves to know that. I’m assuming the ass of a boyfriend she had a month ago didn’t tell her. Not once.
So when she’s finally done for the night, staying back way longer than anyone else in the venue, I don’t even fight the urge to tell her.
We arrive at her hotel room door—we’re a full-service company here at Mike Bravo, from sunup to end of day, we don’t leave our charges’ sides—and she does that awkward end of date thing.
She stops walking and fishes out her key card to swipe into the room, but she doesn’t put it to the little key fob reader. She also doesn’t say anything.
It looks like she wants to, but her mouth isn’t cooperating.
So I talk for her. “You looked really good out there tonight. You were in your element.”
“It could have run smoother. I’ll have all those kinks ironed out by the next one.”
“I don’t think the crowd realizes how many working parts there are to put on a concert like this.
It was an experience for me, that’s for sure.
I wish I could say I wasn’t an Eleven fan back in the day, but what else was I supposed to listen to when I was a teenage lesbian trying to stay in the closet?
You did an amazing job, and I’m kinda in awe of you. ”
Instead of maybe blushing again or going shy, Jamie holds her head high. “Thank you. But I will get those little blips ironed out.”
I love her tenacity and confidence when it comes to this stuff, yet when I risk putting my hand on her shoulder and she practically melts under my touch, I love that I can make her frazzled.
It’s one hand, a minor touch, but her reaction sends a thrill right through me that’s addictive. “You’re where you belong, Jamie. And no one, no boyfriend, no partner, not anybody should tell you any different.”
“I’ll never believe in anyone else more than I believe in myself from now on.”
“Good. At least one good thing came from breaking up with that douchebag.”
Jamie smiles. “I can think of another.”
“Yeah?”
The subtle nod, the small lick of her lips … I really hope this is going where I think it is.
“It means I’m free to do this.” Jamie steps forward, pressing against me. She’s the one making the first move, and though I like her bashful side, I might love this more.
Her mouth collides with mine, hard at first, and then soft. Jamie’s lips taste like bubble gum lip gloss, even if she hasn’t reapplied it in the last hour or so. I haven’t been timing it or anything, but I do remember watching her do it. I couldn’t look away.
Kissing Jamie is better than I could have imagined. Her confidence sticks around, and I open my mouth for her when her tongue presses against my lips. I let her tongue in, stroking it with mine, and when she lets out a moan, I can’t help myself.
I turn us and push her back against her hotel door. Jamie clings to my leather jacket, as if she’s trying to pull me closer, but I’m flush with her amazing body.
With her heels, we’re about the same height, and even though we’re in public, I can’t help pushing my leg in between hers.
She immediately grinds against it, not even caring that anyone could walk by at any second.
She fumbles around for the key card she pulled out earlier—I have no idea where it went, and it’s obvious neither does she—but we don’t stop kissing.
Jamie’s free hand works its way to the side of my head that’s been recently shaved, and as her fingers glide over the short hair, it sends shivers down my spine.
I really want her to find that key. I want to follow her into her hotel room, undress her, and have some fun exploring each other, but this tour is six weeks long. We’re at the beginning of this thing, and the last thing I want to do is hook up and have her regret it.
She finally pulls her mouth away from mine, and she takes a gasping breath. “We should take this inside.”
I smile. “We should. But I’m only going to agree if you’re sure.”
Those long, fake lashes blink up at me. “I’m sure. What if there’s some fanboy or girl in there waiting to shiv me?”
I laugh. “When it comes to pickup lines, I have to say, that’s a pretty good one.”
“So, will you?” Her hazel eyes almost make it impossible to say no. “Come inside, I mean.”
“I’m … contemplating.”
“Contemplating what?”
“If you’ll regret it tomorrow, and then we’ll have to spend the next six weeks together.”
Jamie steps away from me but is dead serious when she says, “The only thing I regret in the last six weeks is not doing this from the start.”
Well, now, how am I supposed to say no to that?