Eight
Clover
I try to push away the unease as Thor walks out of my bedroom, but it only grows when I hear the front door shut behind him. It’s not that I’m going to miss him specifically. Certainly nothing to miss there. In fact, I’m relieved that I’ll be able to get some quiet time to actually work. Or read for fun, since he has distracted me terribly, robbing me of coveted reading time. But I’m also nervous. As annoying as Thor is, at least I’ve learned what to expect from him—to be rather loud and smile way too much.
The man in the other room is a mystery, and as much as I reassured Thor I would be fine, there was something about the new guy that made my skin crawl from the moment I laid eyes on him.
“Ugh. Stop being ridiculous, Clo,” I whisper to the empty bedroom. Sighing, I inhale a deep breath and open the door to face the newest man who’s invaded my space.
A strangled scream escapes my mouth when I barrel into said man standing right outside my bedroom. His massive hands grip my forearms, causing my skin to itch. Panic clutches my throat and nausea twists my stomach. Thankfully, before I attempt to knee him in the groin, he releases me.
“Sorry, Miss Mason.”
He seriously has no idea how close he came to me unleashing excruciating pain on him. I clear my throat, wrapping my cardigan tightly around me and leaning away from him. I try to say something in response, but when I meet his gaze, my heart clenches as anxiety dances across my skin. Instead, I dip my head and push past him.
In the kitchen, I try to ignore him as I grab the coffee can. Except—there’s already a fresh pot waiting for me. I bite down my smile. Nick hasn’t been here long enough to put on coffee. Something about Thor’s small gesture has a measure of warmth attempting to spread across my chest.
What? No. No warmth. Nothing warm and fuzzy happening in regards to the Viking.
With more force than necessary, I jerk the cabinet open and retrieve a coffee mug that reads Not happening today. Or any day. Smiling, I pour my coffee, adding a nice dollop of creamer, even though Thor isn’t here to see.
I grab a protein bar and head to the living room, almost squealing again when I see Nick tucked away in the corner watching me. A shudder courses through me, and I scurry to my computer.
And I try to work. I do. But everything is too quiet. Eerily so. And I can feel Nick’s eyes on me as I eat my breakfast and drink my coffee.
Is it warm in here?
Standing, I remove my cardigan, revealing my T-shirt of the day that reads If you don’t want a sarcastic answer, don’t ask a stupid question. I put it on just to see what stupid question Thor would ask when he saw it.
My hand pauses as I reach for my empty mug. Yeah, I’m not dwelling on the implications of the fact that I chose my outfit this morning based on a certain man’s reaction.
It’s different , I tell myself. You were trying to get him riled up.
Which begs the question . . .
Why?
Nope. Not dwelling on it.
An hour later I feel like crawling out of my skin. My hands are shaking to the point I can’t type. I contemplated putting a movie on or pulling out my game system, but there is no way I can let my guard down or relax around Nick.
Every time I turn around, his eyes are on me, lingering in a way that has nausea pooling in my stomach. Not to mention that the man is silent as a mouse. At least with Thor, I knew where he was because of the obnoxious smacking of his gum.
Unable to bear being alone in this house with the giant, somewhat creepy bodyguard, I grab my purse and keys .
“Do you need to go somewhere, Miss Mason?”
Cringing, I turn to meet Nick’s cool gaze. “I need to get a few things from the store. It’s just down the road.”
He crosses his massive arms and motions toward the door. “Let’s go, then.”
There’s no use in arguing. I knew I wouldn’t be able to get away from him. What I’m not prepared for is him sliding into the passenger seat of my car. I want to laugh at how ridiculous he looks squished up in my tiny sports car, except I realize just how much space he’s taking up.
I straighten, leaning as close to the driver’s door as possible as I pull out of my driveway . Lord, please don’t let him try to start up a conversation.
Thankfully, we make the trip in complete silence, but by the time we pull into the small family-owned store, my nerves are beyond frayed.
Nick towers over me as he follows me into the store. “Not conspicuous at all,” I mumble.
Ignoring him, I grab a basket and rummage through the aisle. There truly are some things I need, but I can’t focus with Nick’s presence suffocating me. My eyes latch on to the bathroom door, and an idea—possibly a crazy one, but desperate times and all that—forms in my mind.
Turning to him, I paste on a sweet smile. “I need to use the little girl’s room. Do you mind holding this basket for me?”
“I need to clear it first. ”
I wave a hand at him. “It’s a single bathroom. There won’t be anything in there.”
He looks uncertain, but I stuff the basket in his hands and spin around. “I’ll be right out,” I call over my shoulder, hoping he doesn’t hear the strain in my voice.
As soon as I close the door behind me, I lock it and draw in a deep breath. My eyes find the small window over the changing table, and I grin.
Almost there.
Once I’m out in the parking lot and sliding back into my car, I can finally take a full calming breath. I’m sure Nick will probably head straight to my house, so I’m going to have to drive around for a while.
Will he call the cops? I pray not. My parents’ security always tries to handle things in-house before involving the cops. Hopefully, Obsidian Group Security is the same. Though they may end up calling Daddy.
I cringe, thinking about worrying him like that. But I cannot stand to be around Nick for a second longer. His gaze is penetrating . . . and not in a good way. Every time I caught him staring at me, it was as if he were undressing me with his eyes. I gag a little.
Nope. It’s a good thing I snuck away. It won’t last long. Nick will call his boss who will call Daddy. But at least I’ll be able to request a different guard. Anyone is better than Nick. Even the Viking .
Thor’s laughter-filled amber eyes infiltrate my mind and my heart stutters for a moment. I can admit—in an objective way—that Thor is the hottest bodyguard I’ve ever had. And the most annoying. I’ve never met a bodyguard who talks or paces as much as he does. I almost smile at the thought, then realize what I’m doing. My mouth twists into a scowl.
No. No. No way will I be thinking anything remotely friendly or positive about the man.
Pushing all thoughts of the grinning, frustrating, splinter-under-my-nails man, I drive around, enjoying the beautiful summer day. I turn up the music, singing loudly along to MMMBop . My musical style is eclectic. I’ll listen to anything from Queen to the Beatles, Ed Sheeran to Imagine Dragons—pretty much anything except rap and country.
Driving has always had a calming effect on me. I can be alone with my thoughts but still enjoy the beauty of God’s creation. I roll down my window, letting the wind blow through my hair while releasing all the pent-up tension I’ve had rolling around inside since the moment Thor showed up in my life.
Why is all of this happening to me just as I’ve begun to spread my wings? I prayed that moving to Denver would be the fresh start I so desperately needed in order to live my own life outside of my parents’ spotlights. Maybe I was fooling myself. Maybe I’ll never be able to have the normal, peaceful life I long for.
A couple of hours go by, and I’m hoping that it’s enough time for Nick to have given up waiting on me. I pull into my neighborhood, waving half-heartedly at the elderly neighbor who I’ve never spoken to. He always smiles and waves at me as I drive by, though.
Guilt stings my heart. I should probably say hi sometime. Perhaps bring him some cookies or a pie. I don’t know how to do this neighbor thing. Sure, we had neighbors when I was a kid. But it’s Hollywood. We lived behind eight-foot stone walls, and you only visited a neighbor when you got an invitation.
Mom and Daddy are always encouraging me to get out and do things. They understand I don’t like the Hollywood lifestyle, but they worry I’m going to become an old cat lady without a family or friends. They shouldn’t worry about that, though. I’m only twenty-one. I purse my lips. But I do love cats.
I snort at how pathetic and lonely my life is. Guess my parents’ fears aren’t completely unfounded. They’re also my own.
Do I want to become a bitter, hateful old cat lady?
No. Of course not. But I don’t know how to keep it from happening. It’s not like I’m relationship material. What man would be willing to put up with my anxieties and fears? I can barely manage it.
Sighing, I pull into my driveway, thankful when everything looks clear. No bodyguard in sight. Still, as I walk to my front door, I discreetly check behind the bushes to make sure Nick isn’t hiding there.
Once inside, I decide to make myself an iced coffee and attempt to read while everything is peaceful and quiet. I don’t know how long I have before Daddy calls or another guard shows up, so I’m going to enjoy it while I can. Or at least try to.
Daddy isn’t going to be happy with me. I hope he and Mom don’t fly out here. I groan. I hadn’t even thought of that when I was making my escape from Nick through the store’s bathroom window.
Oh, well. Nothing I can do about it now.
I hang my purse up and step into the kitchen, freezing instantly when I spot the vase of flowers on my counter. They’re flame calla lilies, my favorite. Trepidation swirls in my stomach as I inch closer, noting the card sticking up in the middle of the bouquet.
Gulping, I slip the card out and open it.
Clover,
I’m so sorry I missed you! But I’ll be back soon. I can’t wait to see my girl again. We have so much to catch up on. Love you. -Mom
My hands shake as I pick up my phone and dial Mom’s number. I know what her response will be before she’s even answered, but I have to hear it from her either way.
“Hello?”
“Did you send me flowers?” My eyes flit across my home as I strive to keep the panic at bay.
“No. Please don’t tell me I missed your birthday. No, I couldn’t have. That’s not for two more months.”
I swallow over the lump in my throat. “No, you didn’t miss my birthday.”
“What’s going on? You sound off.”
“Um . . . I think Angie was in my house. ”
“What do you mean in your house? Are you sure? How could she have gotten in? Where’s the bodyguard Dad hired?” Her questions come so fast I can’t sort through them to answer.
“There was a little . . . umm . . . issue with the guard,” I admit as I hurry to my desk to grab my gun.
“What kind of issue? Your father is paying good money for that company.”
I suck in a deep breath. “I may or may not have given the guard the slip when we went to the store.”
“Clover, what were you thinking? Are you telling me that you’re there alone? You need to call the police! Get out of the house!”
Something about Mom freaking out has me squaring my shoulders to prove that I am capable of taking care of myself. “I have my gun.”
“Oh, good grief. Clover—”
“I need to hang up if you want me to call the cops.”
She huffs. “Call me straight back. I love you.”
“Love you, too.” I end the call, holding my phone in one hand and my gun in the other. Now that I’m off the phone with Mom, the reality of the situation hits me, and my chest tightens.
Angie really does think she’s Mom.
Angie was in my home.
Angie is truly in a mental crisis.
Angie’s coming back.
Why hadn’t I gotten Thor’s number? Heck, even Nick would be a welcome sight at the moment .
Swiping at my phone, my heart stutters. There on my home screen is a new contact I hadn’t noticed in my panic to call Mom.
Why, that Viking.
I’m too relieved to be frustrated that he added his contact information to my phone without my knowledge.
I hit the call button, praying he picks up.