Chapter 35
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
SAVVY
“When you’re in a crowd, say at a concert, what are you looking for when you scan for a threat?” Clover asks her bodyguard, Rip.
“Miss Clover, my job is to remain hidden and out of sight. You should go about your day as if I’m not here,” Rip replies.
I don’t know the last time I’ve seen Clover this excited about anything. You would think all the extra men trying and failing miserably to fit into a town fair would send her into panic city, but it appears to be doing the opposite.
“You’re not blendin’ in very well,” Chief says. “In my day…” I tune him out, knowing it will be a one-man pissing contest until Clover moves on to her next line of questioning.
The truth is, Grey kept his word, and for the most part, our security is out of sight, and they’ve allowed me to move freely about the fairgrounds.
I should feel safe, but internally, I’m a mess.
The local police have listed Kristen as a person of interest but haven’t been able to locate her, and Riley is still…
somewhere. My brain glazed over when Grey was trying to explain why the FBI was involved in locating Kristen.
Something about insider secrets and corporate blah, blah, blah.
I just want life to go back to normal.
Well, maybe not completely normal. The Grey not hating me part is pretty great, but waiting for the next shoe to drop is exhausting.
“There you are.” Madi waves with both hands, and it sways her entire body. Her baby bump has become her new center of gravity.
That twinge in my chest flares to life, watching her. Do all expectant mothers naturally hold their belly, or is that learned behavior?
It’s probably because they have to pee all the time. If I stick with this line of thinking, perhaps the butterfly in my chest will settle.
“Are you ready? You look gorgeous.” She whirls her finger, and I oblige by spinning in place so the thin fabric of my sundress swirls around my knees. Not that she’s paying attention while she wraps Clover in a hug.
“I don’t know if I’m ready, but I’m here.”
“I’m so glad you went with the red dress. It looks hot. Look at your boobs.” She reaches in as though she’s going to weigh them, and I finally laugh. They do look great in this dress—a square neckline always flatters. “Hey, Carson.”
My new bodyguard groans a begrudging hello.
“Hi, Rip. Hi, Chief.” Madi continues making the rounds until she’s hugged everyone.
“Miss Monroe,” Carson says under his breath.
“I know, I know. They’re not supposed to talk to you. They’ve all been warned, but have you ever been in a small town, Carson? I’m doing the best I can, okay?”
He smirks, but he never takes his eyes off the crowd. “Yes, ma’am. I grew up in a tiny town called Burke Hollow, so I know them well.”
Inwardly, I cringe. When did I hit the ma’am era? “Then can ya cut me some slack?”
“I’ll see what I can do. Are you ready to head over to the main stage?” he asks.
“Elle’s meeting us over there,” Madi says. “The guys are already warming up.”
“Warming… Who’s warming up?”
“Grey’s getting some last-minute pointers from, well, from everyone.” Clover giggles. Glancing down, I see she’s already gotten into Blissy’s Happy Juice.
Blissy gets a special license to sell alcohol once a year, and every year we say we need to regulate it better. Happy Juice is a town-wide hangover waiting to happen.
“Let’s go put Grey out of his misery.”
“Firefly green,” Carson says into an earpiece I can’t see.
Rolling my eyes because this is over the top, I step forward, and I swear two more guys move with us.
Taking three more steps, I side-eye the movements and then stop suddenly.
The human wall puts on the brakes, but when I peer around at our surroundings, strangers are in conversations, people are laughing, kids crying, bells ringing.
I’m losing my mind—paranoia has never been so visceral before.
“Everything okay, Miss Monroe?” Carson is half a step behind me.
“Call me Savvy, Carson. Everything’s fine.” I hook Madi’s arm on my right and Clover’s on my left and angle us toward the main stage. I will not allow Riley to ruin one more thing for me.
“Carson,” I call over my shoulder.
“Er, yes, ma’a—ah, Savvy?”
“We agreed to three guards.”
“We did, yes.”
I drag my friends another ten steps, and swear I can feel eyes on us from every direction.
“Then tell me why it feels like so many more?” I ask. “Did Greyson approve more?”
I almost feel bad for Carson right now.
He holds up his hands. “I’m only in charge of your team, and there are three of us here today. I stay with you—Jack moves ahead of us, and Mark bats cleanup.”
“We had a plan,” I grumble, pushing through the crowd toward the main stage. “If Grey went back on his word…”
Stay calm, Savvy. What’s the saying? Paranoia will destroy ya?
Cutting through the concession stands, I take a right at ring toss and another right at the house of mirrors, then stop in my tracks when I come out at the front of the main stage.
The first thing my brain registers is that Grey is shirtless. The second thing is that he’s laughing. Really laughing. His head is tipped back, showcasing his Adam’s apple and day-old scruff along his jaw.
Greyson has day-old scruff.
And he’s wearing jeans.
Jeans that hang low on his hips, and all his tanned California skin glistens under the midday sun.
Cian claps him on the back. They’re too far away to hear what they’re saying, but their mannerisms are loose and comfortable.
Grey could pass for a regular guy in this moment—it’s a shock to my system but not unwelcome. This is Grey unguarded, and I might like this version of him as much as I like the protective asshole who pushes my buttons for fun.
All the guys are here. Braxton, Sage, Moose, Pops, even the football team has circled around Grey. They’re all here—for him.
Roman leans into Grey’s space, then nods in my direction. I’m sure Carson alerted him to our arrival, and Grey scopes me out as though he’d been waiting for me.
It hurts to breathe.
This moment feels poignant, like I’ve been running my entire life to get to him, and here he is, standing in a crowd of people that fades into nothingness as though it’s just him and me on the precipice of something great.
He waves, never losing his smile, then parts the sea of people to come to me.
I feel high, drugged on the happy pheromones he’s exuding.
“Hey,” he says when he’s close enough to touch. “Sorry, I’m all sweaty.”
His smile never wavers.
“I—I’m mad at you.”
“You are.” His eyes dance—two pale blue irises bouncing with delight. “What did I do now?”
I think I might be floating.
What the hell is happening to me right now?
Smiling like an idiot is my answer.
“I don’t remember,” I say.
“Please, please let the rest of our arguments for the rest of our lives go like this one.” His lips meet mine. It’s gentle and sweet.
Nothing like the blisteringly desperate kisses we normally share.
But no less consuming.
“I’ve missed you this morning,” he says quietly, but I can see questions lingering behind his eyes.
“It looks like you’ve been busy,” I say. Behind him, the boys chuckle.
“Are you hungry?” he asks, and there’s the question he really wants to ask.
“Grey, we talked about this.”
He holds up both his hands in surrender. “I’m just asking, sweetheart. I didn’t finish my sandwich, so I saved it for you in case you were busy this morning too.”
“No, I’m good.” And I am. I really am this time.
I can see the fight in him, still wanting to push, still wanting to ensure my safety, but he nods and lets it go.
“Good, I’m glad.” He smiles, and it fills me with love.
He wants to fight for me, but he’s trusting me to do it myself.
It’s progress.
“I think I figured out how to win this thing,” he says, wrapping an arm around my shoulder and leading me toward the stage.
“Oh yeah, how’s that?” I ask, leaning my head against him, soaking in the comfort he gives.
He pulls me in closer to his side. I’m not even angry about the sweat. We’re in the middle of an active threat, and I’m…content.
“The bigger fool I make of myself, the more people cheer for me.” His dimples are both on display.
“That’s your strategy?” My laughter rises right along with his.
“I need an edge, and since I don’t seem to be picking up line dancing very well, I’m going to play to my strengths.”
“Your strengths. In line dancing.”
He takes my hand and tugs me to the stage stairs.
“Hell no. If I never line dance again after tonight, I’ll be happy. But I know how to work a crowd.”
Carson catches my eye.
“Oh, I remember why I was mad.”
Grey leads me up the steps with humor shining in his eyes. “What is it now, sweetheart?”
“Did you approve about a hundred more guards than the three we discussed?”
The curtain is still lowered on the stage, so it’s a little dark back here, but he leads me effortlessly to the chair that’s built to look like a throne.
“Well, a hundred seems a little excessive,” he says dryly. “You agreed to follow Harrington’s plan.”
Carson slides into the shadows off to my right.
“Roman said there would be three, Grey. Three.”
He leans in and kisses my nose. “I can confirm there are three guards on you and one on each of the girls. Whatever else Roman put into place is on him, but no, I’m not aware of any others.” He frowns. “Why, did you see something suspicious?”
Did I?
I shake my head. “I think I’m just anxious.”
“Are you sure?” Apprehension clouds his features.
“Yeah, sorry. Ignore me. Now, are you ready to win this thing?”
His cocky smirk is back in play. “Cian and Sage are betting against me, but Braxton and Moose are going double or nothing in my favor.”
“I… What about… Why…”
“I’m going to win by whatever means necessary.” He will too. It’s right there in his eyes the color of a summer sky.
I scan the length of his body as he replaces his T-shirt, and holy shit.
“Are you wearing cowboy boots?” Jesus, are they what’s making his ass look so good in those jeans?