Chapter 2
Chapter
Two
MOONSHINE
Shaw
“I’m so fucking glad you exist.” – S
S haw-bear. Welcome home.
A jolt of white heat shoots through my body, and I visibly shudder the moment indigo-blue eyes meet mine. What the fuck?
Familiarity creeps in, trying to spread warmth to every cold, dark corner of my soul as the beauty before me smiles with her entire face. A fake smile.
The smile doesn’t reach her eyes; that’s how I know it’s fake. I know what a real smile from her looks like, even after all these years. Ellaiza Kenton’s smile could melt the ice off the coldest of hearts.
When cousin Ben calls and said he needed a favor, of course I agreed. The man has been like a brother to me; I wouldn’t have denied him. What I did’t expect was what the favor entailed: protecting none other than former First Daughter Ellaiza Kenton. Again.
The first time I took the job, it was because there was nothing else I’d rather do with my life. Protecting lives used to mean something to me once. I wasn’t planning on ever returning to guard duty, especially not for the Kentons, but I owe them more than I could ever fucking repay.
I have good memories, some of the best with the Kenton family, yet all of it is blurred with the shit in my head. This girl right here used to brighten my days with her infectious laughter and innocent gestures. Protecting someone’s life is no walk in the fucking park, yet it was with her. It was for a short time, but it was the most peace I’d had in years.
Then, as if life didn’t want me to have one single peaceful moment, I woke up from the dream that was D.C., and reality sank in and bled me dry.
Now I’m this. A man who can’t even return the smile of the sweet girl who gave him so many joyful moments. Shit. A girl who looks the same, yet she doesn’t.
She’s no longer a little girl with chubby cheeks and dark as night curls that framed her cherubic face. She’s a young woman now. A beautiful one. Damn. The years have hardened me, but they’ve been especially sweet to Ellaiza Kenton. Too damn sweet.
Her once short, black curly hair now falls to her lower back in soft waves. When she was younger, her hair used to fall wildly around her, but now it’s tamed. The black strands are pushed back from her face by a cream-colored headband that matches her short cream dress. I remember her wild curls and how they bounced whenever she giggled. Not now. Now there’s nothing visibly messy or wild about the girl before me. There’s no pink either. Nothing.
Once, she would dress in pink from head to toe. She also loved sparkles and glitter shit. I’ve never met anyone who loved that horrendous color as much as she did back then. What changed? I wonder. Bland colors. Fake smiles. Like the one she’s flashing at me now.
I hold her gaze, and it feels as if time ceases to exist as she holds me captive. A buzzing sensation zaps me from nowhere so hard that I force myself to break eye contact before this girl sees more than I want her to. More than she ever should.
Instead, my eyes flit over her face. Ellaiza Kenton. She grew up to be beautiful. Stunning, even. Her lips are full and naturally pink. Her blue eyes are fringed by thick black lashes, and her cheekbones are high and sharp. No two ways about it, she’s beautiful. Her small button nose is cute as fuck too. She’s about five foot three or four. And then there are her curves. Fuck. Narrowing my eyes at her, I beat myself up for even noticing.
She’s just a girl. A girl who used to be a client. Shit. Correction. She’s a client from now on. At least until the threat to her and her family’s safety is neutralized or eliminated. If it were up to me, I’d choose the latter.
When the strange feeling in my chest becomes too much, I step back and rake my hand through my hair in exasperation. Averting my gaze, I suck in a deep breath of muggy air. This can’t be good.
Trouble is written all over her sweet and innocent expression. “Welcome home, Shaw Bear.” Her throaty voice is like a shock of electricity to my system. Sexy. Gravelly. It reaches deep inside and rattles my bones. Not what you’d expect to hear coming from the mouth of a girl who looks like her.
She’s how old now? Her early twenties, if I had to guess, but her eyes look older. Wiser. Ben would always say this girl had an old soul.
And although I didn’t keep in touch with the Kentons like I should have, I still hear everything about them from Ben. I’m not a man consumed by social media, but I also don’t live under a rock. I know all about the Kenton kids and how all of them grew up to be heirs and heiresses with a lot of presence in the news and social media, even the ones still in high school.
I believe I read somewhere that one of her sisters, Ambrose, is a supermodel at the tender age of fourteen, while her twin, Haven, skipped a few grades and is about to start college in the fall. Apparently, she is a genius.
As for the rest of the siblings, I only know they are just as famous as the sisters on social media—perhaps even more so. Her brothers, Royal and twin boys Kael and Kyrin. Two of them are strikingly similar to their father, Sebastian, while the other resembles their mother, Arianna Kenton. And then there’s Ella.
I’ve seen her all over the tabloids, especially the garbage news transmitted on TV over the past few months. The world is obsessed with the Kenton family.
And now she’s here and will stay here with me while her family deals with the threat back in D.C.. Something tells me this won’t be an easy job. That smile on her face, as fake as it is, has mischief written all over it.
Never have I had this reaction to someone before. Not with just one look. I’ve been attracted to plenty of women and have had my fair share of them. But never once have I looked into someone’s eyes and felt like I’m looking at someone who could turn my goddamn world on its axis.
It’s not just physical. It’s more than that, yet I can’t quite put my finger on exactly what it is.
As we stand on the street and stare at each other in the bright light, I get a feeling in the pit of my stomach that things will never be the same from now on. As if something monumental is bound to happen now that Ellaiza Kenton has stepped foot in my world—a world she knows very little of and one she’s not accustomed to.
I’m a simple man with a simple life. She’s anything but.
“With your life,” Ben’s rough voice cuts through my thoughts. I begrudgingly look away from the prettiest blue eyes I’ve ever seen and give my cousin all my attention. “You guard her with your life and keep her out of trouble until I contact you again.”
My precious heiress cargo snorts, rolling her eyes playfully at Ben. Suddenly, I feel emotions I have no business feeling—not for someone I knew when she was a child and someone who is now a client until further fucking notice.
“Give me your phone,” Ben says, extending his hand toward Ellaiza.
Her brows furrow. “I need my phone.” She almost looks terrified.
I try not to laugh at the horrified look on her face.
“And we need you safe,” Ben says in a tone that means business. That’s enough for her to reach inside her small clutch, pull out her phone, and hand it over to him. I think she’d make more of a fuss about it. People these days would rather lose a limb than live without their phones.
“And you,” Ben turns to me. His eyes harden. “Be that charming Shaw Banning I know you’re capable of and show her some good old-fashioned Western hospitality.”
I snort.
Then I stand back and watch them say their goodbyes, and their teary eyes don’t escape me.
Shit.
Rubbing my chest, I turn away. I need a fucking drink. What the hell is wrong with me today?
They break apart with a quick kiss on her forehead before my cousin climbs inside the car. With one last nod my way and a sad look on his face towards his honorary niece, he drives off.
Here we go.
It’s just me and her from now on.
“I don’t do tears,” I grumble as I head toward my truck.
Her silence makes me glance over my shoulder. Her chin lifts defiantly, but her eyes betray her hurt feelings. “I don’t do turds,” she snaps, handing me her small clutch as if I’m her fucking server.
Her smile vanishes, replaced by a look of annoyance that now dominates her expression.
“Noted,” I grunt.
We walk side by side to my truck, where I open the passenger door and gesture for her to climb in, playing the part of a gentleman—a role no one has ever assigned to me before.
Once she’s safely inside, I quickly stow her bags in the back and slam the door, then jog to the driver’s side. Once inside the truck, I turn the ignition and roll down the windows. It’s the end of July, and although it’s hot as fuck outside, I always drive with the windows down, enjoying the smell of the air and fresh grass.
My passenger princess eyes the A/C but doesn’t ask me to turn it on.
As we drive silently, a faint, almost imperceptible hum comes from her. Glancing sideways, I notice her twirling a loose curl, revealing a small tattoo on the inside of her index finger—tiny dots and lines forming a mysterious design. Where have I seen that before?
“Like what you see, Cowboy?” she asks, amused.
Cowboy.
I almost laugh.
Almost.
I refocus on the road ahead. “What gives you the impression that I’m a cowboy?”
I sure as fuck don’t have their famous charm and hospitality.
“Your truck smells like horses and hay,” she sniffs the air. “I’m guessing you live on a ranch.”
“I’m guessing you don’t approve?” I say. She’s an heiress. She’s used to luxurious places and expensive things. This entire situation must feel like a nightmare to her.
“You guessed wrong.”
Keeping my eyes fixed on the road, I mutter, “I doubt this town or the truck meets your standards, princess. Girls like you…”
“Girls like me? What’s that supposed to mean?” I feel her turn in her seat, her annoyed gaze on me. She’s a spitfire. She reminds me of both her parents, Arianna and Sebastian Kenton. I remember how they used to be ballbusters back then, and little Miss Kenton is living up to her last name right now.
“Rich girls with a taste for the good things in life,” I grumble.
Silence follows my comment. For a second, I think she’s ignoring me, but then she whispers, sounding… sad. “How long till we get to wherever it is you’re taking me?”
A pang of guilt claws at me. I hurt her. My comment hurt her. Fuck. It hasn’t even been an hour, and I’ve already fucked this up.
She’s my client, and despite neither of us choosing this situation, there’s no need for me to treat her poorly. She hasn’t wronged me in any way, and though I may come off as a surly bastard with more baggage than I care to admit, cruelty is not in my nature.
I pause, taking a deep breath to collect my thoughts.
“We’ll be there in a few. Twenty minutes, give or take,” I tell her.
After that, she’s quiet. When I look over at her, her eyes are closed. We lapse into silence, and I drive.
I take it slow and easy, keeping my eyes on the road, hyper-vigilant for threats to her safety. I’m transporting precious cargo, and I’d sooner die than let anything happen to her. I owe her family that much. Ben too.
After a while, the silence starts to bug the fuck out of me. Why? Beats me. I prefer the silence, but this silence feels heavy. It unnerves me.
From the corner of my eye, I glance at Ellaiza. Her eyes are now open, looking out of the truck’s window. There’s nothing remotely interesting to see except for the long fields and greenery. Yet she stares at it as if she’s traveling through the streets of Paris.
Interest and a light that was missing earlier shine in her indigo-blue eyes.
A strange sensation squeezes my chest, but I ignore the feeling, not caring to know what triggered it. Instead, I reach inside the glove compartment and pull out a small black device. “Here. Take this,” I say, as she continues to look out the window, seemingly lost in another world and unsure how to react.
If I weren’t so annoyed by my current predicament, I’d find her reaction amusing. But truthfully, nothing is amusing about being stuck with a twenty-something-year-old girl for fuck knows how long when I’m a man who values his privacy and, above all, his peace.
Handing over the phone, I watch from the corner of my eye as her dark brows pull low while she stares at the item in my hand. “What is this?”
“A phone,” I mumble, keeping my gaze on the road. I don’t miss the face she makes.
Cute.
Seeing her disappointment elicits a faint smile from me, something I rarely do. Her soft hand brushes against mine, sending a jolt of electricity through my body, just like before when our skin first touched.
Fuck.
Pulling away as if her touch burns me, I clear my throat and keep my eyes on the road, trying to ignore the strange sensations she stirs with one touch. Fuck, with one goddamn smile.
Moonshine.
The word pops into my mind as I do my best to ignore both the rare feeling in my chest and the girl. She’s trouble, whether she knows it or not. Ellaiza Kenton is in trouble with a capital T.
Motherfucker.
Ella
“A phone,” my grumpy guard says matter-of-factly.
“I know it’s a phone,” I roll my eyes and try not to laugh. “How does this work?” I’ve seen the phone before on social media, on a nineties trends tribute account.
“You hit the keys,” Shaw says, sounding annoyed.
“Oh, I had no idea,” I muse.
He side-eyes me, then looks straight ahead again. Tough nut to crack… this one. Challenge accepted, Shaw Bear. I love challenges, and you might prove to be the best one.
Reaching forward, I grab the phone, and the moment my fingers touch his calloused ones, a burning sensation jolt through me. I breathe through my nose, trying to control the out-of-body experience. Again… I’ve never felt this before. Not with anyone else. It’s as if my skin recognizes him.
Does he feel it too?
Don’t be naive, Ella… The sarcastic grump is all man, and you’re… you. Spoiled little rich girl. Nepo-baby. He must think the same about me as the rest of the world.
A sudden rush of disappointment hits me as I think of how different we are. He’s older and forbidden. Yet I still want to play with fire.
As quickly as the disappointment hits me, it vanishes when I notice the colorful bead bracelet on his thick wrist. The one I made just for him when I was a little girl and thought the world of him. I spent the entire day making it for Shaw, adding cupcakes, small bears, and colorful stars.
A friendship bracelet.
And when Shaw Banning fell to his knees for me that day and slipped the bracelet on, I felt like the luckiest little girl in the entire galaxy. His galaxy.
Looking at it now, I feel the same way as I did back then.
Huh. Things just got a little bit more colorful here. Feeling more than giddy and with all sadness forgotten, I lean back in my seat with the ugly phone and smile wide, thinking of the road ahead with this man by my side. This new great adventure. I choose to think of it as such now. One big, great adventure with this big, grumpy man.
Oh, this will be fun. See… my stars never steer me wrong.