Chapter One #3
He listened without interrupting, his pen moving occasionally across the notepad, his expression unreadable.
"You did the right thing," he said when I finished. "Calling your father, taking this seriously. Even if it turns out to be nothing, it's better to be cautious."
"My father mentioned pretending you're my boyfriend as a cover," I said. "Have you thought about the details?"
"Right, your father mentioned that to Gray on the phone.
Gray briefed me on the basics on my drive over.
Here's what I'm thinking." He pulled out his phone, opened his notes app.
"We tell people I'm an old college buddy of your brother Dalton's—we both went to Texas A&M, business school, graduated together.
That's the story, anyway. Reality is I work for Lone Star Security, but we'll say I'm in business consulting, which explains why I travel a lot.
I do actually live on a small property outside town with a couple horses, but the 'travel' keeps me away enough that folks haven't run into me much around Valor Springs.
For the cover, we say about a month ago I was passing through for work, Dalton suggested we grab coffee and catch up, we hit it off, had a few quiet dates outside of town over the past few weeks. Now we're ready to go public."
I blinked at him. "You've really thought this through."
A small smile tugged at his mouth—the first I'd seen. "What do you think? Does it work?"
"It could." I ran through potential questions in my mind. "Dalton's thirty-one, you're—what, early thirties?"
"Thirty-three."
"Perfect age gap for college friends. And the consulting story explains the travel..." I paused. "Wait. Church. First Baptist is the social hub of Valor Springs. If we're supposedly dating, people will expect to see you there Sunday morning."
"You're right about that." Something flickered across his face—resignation, maybe. "Can't remember the last time I set foot in the Lord's house, but I'll manage."
"And town events. Social gatherings." I pressed my fingers to my temples. "My parents will probably want to have us over for dinner at some point—for appearances. Small-town gossip being what it is."
"Understood. We'll handle it." His tone was matter-of-fact, reassuring. "I know this isn't ideal, Presley. But it keeps you safe and your business intact. Both matter."
I studied him across my kitchen table. Rhodes Foster, former Marine turned bodyguard, about to become my fake boyfriend. A man who filled doorways and made my pulse skip just by existing in the same room.
This was either going to work or become very complicated very fast.
"Can you think of anyone who might be behind this?" Rhodes asked. "An ex-boyfriend, a rival, anyone who's made threats before?"
I wrapped my hands around my coffee mug for something solid to hold onto.
"There's my ex-boyfriend, Landon Barrett.
We dated about two years ago—eight months total.
I ended things when he started getting possessive.
Showing up at my studio unannounced, getting upset if I didn't text back within minutes.
He still texts sometimes. I ignore them. "
Something shifted in Rhodes's expression—a tightening around his eyes. "What do the texts say?"
"Mostly that he wants to 'talk things through' or 'get coffee and catch up.' Nothing overtly threatening. Just... persistent."
Rhodes made a note. "Anyone else?"
"Blythe Tanner runs a competing coaching business in the next town. Several of my clients have transferred from her program to mine over the past two years—we have different philosophies when it comes to coaching. She's taken it personally."
"Noted. Anyone else?"
"There's a woman named Tiffany Hammond. We competed against each other in Miss Texas five years ago. I reported her for a rule violation—she'd altered her competition dress to gain an unfair advantage. She was disqualified. She moved away after that, but I heard recently she's back in the area."
Rhodes wrote it all down. "I'll have Mae Calhoun—Gray's sister—run background checks on all three. She handles research and intel for LSS. If there's anything to find, she'll dig it up."
"So what happens now?" I met his eyes. "You follow me around all day?"
"I'll be staying here with you. Guest room if you have one." He gestured toward the hallway. "Need to be close in case of emergency."
My stomach did a slow flip. A stranger. In my house. Starting tonight.
Except he didn't feel like a stranger. Not entirely. Not with those steady blue-gray eyes and that quiet competence and the way he'd listened to my rambling explanation without once making me feel foolish.
"It's down the hall," I said quietly. "First door on the left." The guest room—really more of a decorative space than anything functional, with its soft floral daybed that looked like something from a Laura Ashley catalog—sat opposite my bedroom door.
"Thank you." He stood, drained his coffee. "I need to step outside quick—call my neighbor about my horses. Then I'll get settled in."
"You have horses?"
"Two. Small property outside town." Something flickered across his face—affection, maybe. "Neighbor's good about checking on them while I'm working cases."
After he went outside, I stood in my kitchen and tried to process everything that had happened.
Maybe someone had threatened me. Maybe they hadn't. I didn't know for sure.
But my father had called in a bodyguard just in case.
Rhodes Foster would be sleeping down the hall, listening for threats I wasn't even certain existed.
And tomorrow, we'd start pretending to date.
I changed into pajamas, washed my face, went through my nightly routine on autopilot. When I came out of my bathroom, I could hear Rhodes moving around in the guest room, settling in.
I climbed into my king-sized bed alone, pulled the covers up, and stared at the ceiling.
Maybe I was being overly cautious. Maybe the note was a prank and the brick was random, and in a week or two I'd look back on this and question my judgment.
But maybe I wasn't. Maybe someone really was targeting me, and if I'd ignored it, something terrible would have happened.
Tonight, Rhodes Foster was down the hall. Former Marine. Trained bodyguard. Alert and capable.
And for the first time since finding that note Monday evening, I could breathe a little easier.
Even if I wasn't entirely sure I needed protection, having it—having him—felt like the right choice.
I closed my eyes, but sleep didn't come easily.
My mind kept circling back to the man down the hall.
Broad shoulders with scars that told stories and eyes that saw everything.
The calm way he'd taken control of the situation without making me feel incompetent.
The small smile when he'd talked about his horses.
The heat that had flooded through me when he'd filled my doorway.
I pressed my hand against my chest where my heart was doing something erratic and uncomfortable.
This was professional. Temporary. A necessary precaution that would probably turn out to be overkill.
So why did having Rhodes Foster in my house feel more dangerous than any threat I'd received?