Chapter Eight
BARRETT HAD IMAGINEDa lot went into a gala preparation, as well as personal preparations for said galas, but his head was spinning six days later. Focused on providing security for Zoey, he’d studied the exits and security systems of the venue—a hotel belonging to her father.
Of course, he’d also accompanied her anywhere she needed to go, and, of course, he’d had to wear a suit for that. Plus, he’d hung out in the shadows when a dressmaker, a jeweler, a manicurist, and an aroma specialist, who could determine the proper perfume based on a person’s appearance and personality, made house calls—with all necessary supplies!—at the beach mansion where she was staying. Who’d think her cousin had a personal dressmaker, jeweler, manicurist, and aroma specialist, all carefully vetted and delighted to visit Zoey?
The shoe store couldn’t exactly arrive at the beach house with hundreds of shoes, so today he was driving Zoey to the largest one in Charleston. On its website, he’d already seen more shoes than he had in his lifetime. Kennedy had offered one of her luxury cars for the purpose, and he’d grudgingly accepted. He flexed his grip on the smooth steering wheel now. It grated on his nerves that his rusty truck wasn’t good enough to chauffeur Zoey around, though he understood the motorcycle would be too dangerous. Perhaps it turned out all for her good, though, as this car had bulletproof windows.
Beside him, she wore a new cream designer suit, and her new perfume now blending with the new-car smell was subtle but pleasant and fresh as it offered notes of mint and cucumber and some berries he couldn’t identify.
“Isn’t it nice that Kennedy called the store beforehand?” Zoey sounded surprised as they pulled up to the store.
He checked the surroundings, then shot out of the car.
“Terrific,” he muttered, then rounded the luxury vehicle. Its silvery sheen sparkled in the sunshine, and he opened the door for her.
“She said a personal shopper will assist in a section closed to the public.” Her eyes were wide.
“No kidding.” He helped her out and opened the store’s front door for her once he was sure everything looked okay. The place even smelled expensive—probably bergamot with orchids or something as they’d no doubt hired their own aroma specialist.
If he didn’t feel the ocean-sized chasm between them before, it echoed in him now with each click of pricey stilettos, especially while his scuffed cowboy boots clunked along, sporting some unsightly dirt specks. He should’ve changed shoes after helping his brothers early this morning. He could do that easily enough, but he had no desire to change his personality or lifestyle.
“What do you think?” Zoey wobbled to him on crimson high-heeled shoes with some sparkly stones he hoped weren’t diamonds.
The personal shopper sent him a look. Her smile was so wide it showed nearly all her thirty-two teeth that looked like... pearls?
Maybe he’d seen too much jewelry, as well. He knew about as much about shoes as he knew about pearls. But that wasn’t the answer she expected. And let’s be honest, he paid more attention to her elegant ankle than the footwear.
He gave her two thumbs-up. “They look fabulous.”
Zoey jammed her palms on her slim hips. “You said that about all the other shoes I tried on.”
“That’s because you make any shoes look fabulous.” Was it wrong to be honest? “Frankly, you look fabulous just barefoot.”
Zoey laughed as she toed off the shoes. “That’s sweet. Not helpful, but still sweet.”
The personal shopper sent him a dagger-sharp glare, and a few of those white pearls disappeared as she ushered Zoey to look at more shoes. “Let me show you some new pairs we just got in from Paris.”
He needed to talk to Austin anyway to ask about medicine for one of the cows at the ranch, so he called his veterinarian brother while he waited, hunching against the glare of the lights and sparkling shoes.
After a talk in a low voice about the ranch and some sick but thankfully recovering animals, Barrett blurted out, “I just got a glimpse of Kennedy’s life, and I’m shocked. How do you two make it work?” It wasn’t idle curiosity. He wanted to know because—no, he couldn’t get his hopes up just to see them crushed like a wounded bird.
Austin chuckled, the ever-optimistic brother. “I don’t know. We just love each other. A long time ago, I figured that being wealthy was a drawback Kennedy could be forgiven for. Did you know she’s by far the biggest donor to our animal shelter or the town’s art center or the food pantry? They survive thanks to her. Or that she donated most of the art that’s going to be auctioned off at the gala from her collection? And she and her uncle already donated a lot of high-priced, valuable paintings to Port Sunshine’s art museum.”
“I didn’t know.”
“That’s because she doesn’t want people to know. My wife has a beautiful soul,” Austin boasted.
“But all this luxury doesn’t bother you?” More than bothered, Barrett mashed his hair down. He cupped a hand around the phone, speaking low into the mechanism. “I mean, a personal hairdresser who makes house calls? We grew up with hand-me-downs. If the clothes didn’t have holes in them, they were fine even if a bit loose. And when they did get holes, Mom mended them.”
“Kennedy and I live in my modest ranch house, no luxury to bother us. As for the rest, Kennedy says she can make more money but can never make more time. She buys convenience. She says she’d rather spend time with me—or her uncle or her cousin now—than run errands. If you’re surprised by a personal hairdresser, let me tell you some of my patients have their own psychologists and dieticians.”
Barrett whistled. “You’re kidding me! You mean cats and dogs?”
“Mostly dogs, but yes, some cats, as well. No wonder cats don’t like dogs. I haven’t met a pet tarantula with a personal dietician yet, but I might in the near future. Okay, change of topic. I heard you’ve been enjoying Zoey’s company.”
“I’m working,” Barrett grunted because he didn’t want to admit that, whatever the circumstances, yes, he’d been enjoying Zoey’s company. Just seeing her smile when she found something beautiful boosted his mood. She accepted everything with gratitude and wonder, even when she later admitted the dressmaker poked her with some pins.
“Yup. It’s a tough job, but someone’s gotta do it.” Austin laughed.
“I’m supposed to be glued to Zoey like gum to the sole of a jaw-droppingly expensive shoe”—he eyed the shelves—“where a gilded branch with golden leaves hugs the heel. Okay, maybe gum wasn’t the best comparison.”
“And after that, I imagine you’ll be dining at the best restaurant in town. Well, gotta go, bro. Some of us have to return to our glamorous jobs.” Teasing notes sang through Austin’s voice. “For example, I’ll be treating a mastiff for diarrhea next.”
“Yuck. Now, I’ll be thinking of that when I enjoy my steak.” Barrett disconnected.
Finally, Zoey settled on emerald-green velvet-covered high-heeled shoes that would match her dress.
The next stop was a beauty salon. The hairdresser would make a house call if she didn’t happen to be so booked. After all, she was extremely sought-after by wealthy clients. Zoey had announced to her cousin she’d received enough special treatment and would be happy to visit the salon. It was close to the shoe store in a district catering to wealthy clientele, which was a good idea because, as Austin had said, time and convenience were important.
As usual, Barrett paid attention to the rearview mirror, and his eyes narrowed. The same sleek burgundy car with tinted windows that he’d seen driving to the shoe store stayed several cars behind them now. It had never gotten too close. Both times, it disappeared without giving him the opportunity to check the license plate.
“What do you think of me coloring my hair a lighter color?” Zoey twisted a strand of hair as he drove her to the salon.
“Is it something you want to do?” Barrett changed lanes, and the burgundy sedan followed. He tensed. The road to the beauty salon was going to take longer than GPS indicated as he passed the establishment and took a right turn, then another one.
“Yes. Not because blondes have more fun. It’s just... When I was little, my hair was light, but it darkened with time. I wanted to lighten my hair at seventeen, but Mom forbade me. Now I understand that she didn’t want me to look more like when I’d been little. To avoid recognition.”
Argh. He nearly gnashed his teeth at all the things she hadn’t been allowed to do. But was she partly motivated to change her hairstyle because she wanted to become more like the little girl her father had lost? Or to look like her successful cousin? Zoey didn’t need to. She was beautiful and successful in her own right.
He changed lanes again. This time, the burgundy sedan stayed behind, then disappeared altogether. His grip on the steering wheel’s smooth surface loosened a bit. “If you want to try it, go for it. But I believe you’ll look gorgeous no matter your hair color.”
She laughed again, and the lovely sound dissolved some of the tension in his stomach. “That’s sweet. Not helpful, but still sweet.”
“Hmm, I’ve heard that one before.” His lips curled up, and as much as he wanted to look at her, he forced himself to keep his attention on the road. And the rearview mirror.
“I wonder why.” Her tone turned playful.
He loved all these different facets of her. He didn’t like the comparison to a diamond in the rough because Zoey was much more precious than that, but it still came to mind.
The next moment, he tensed. The white SUV he’d seen when he’d taken her to an arts-and-crafts store yesterday hung three cars behind.
Lord, please help me keep Zoey safe.
“Is something wrong?” Her voice dipped.
“Why are you asking?”
“You’re frowning, and your fingers are tightening around the steering wheel.” The previous joy in her voice was gone.
His gut tightened, but he needed to tell her the truth. He changed lanes again. “We might have a second tail.”
She flinched. “A second tail?”
“First, it was a burgundy sedan with tinted windows. Now it’s a white SUV, also with tinted windows. Both too far back to spot their license plate numbers.”
“Okay, I see it.” Her voice was surprisingly calm. “I sense a pattern. Are tinted windows to ensure we can’t see the driver?”
“Could be.” He hated to be the one to destroy her jubilant mood. He was a skilled driver and knew Charleston well, so he made a few turns more, weaving between cars.
“I’ll keep my eyes peeled for the license plate.” She twisted in her seat. “Oh. It’s gone now.”
“You’re right.” After some more car maneuvers just to make sure, he drove to the salon.
Thankfully, a car pulled out from the spot right near the salon’s door. He parked, turned off the engine, then lifted his hand to stop her from getting out. “Please let me make sure everything is safe.”
His heart shifted. It was a public place, so he couldn’t make it one-hundred-percent-sure safe. He had a new appreciation for a personal hairdresser and jeweler for Zoey. Especially considering how his brother Darius and his now wife had been kidnapped by burglars in a jewelry store.
Keeping his hand close to his weapon, Barrett slipped out of the car and zoomed in on his surroundings. Neither the burgundy sedan nor white SUV was in sight, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t a different car already parked here, its driver watching. Several luxury vehicles were parked nearby, but none of them had tinted windows or people visible inside. He glanced around again, then hurried to the salon, and checked through its glass window. Everything looked peaceful so far.
Still on high alert, he strode to the passenger door and opened it for Zoey.
“Thanks.” She slipped out of the bulletproof vehicle, the usual glow in her vibrant hazel eyes dim.
Having put such worry there irked him. “We’ll have to walk fast.”
“Understood.”
He shielded her in their brisk steps to the salon, then opened the front door, and entered behind her. This place smelled expensive, as well, but in a more relaxing way. Which was understandable, because the pleasant but more intense aroma in the shoe store meant to encourage patrons to shop while here it might intend to relax them. If this was an aroma specialist’s job, he had a new respect for them, as well.
He just hoped dogs weren’t getting their personal aroma specialists yet. Or was he wrong about that?
“Oh, we’ve been waiting for you!” The well-sought-out hairdresser whose photo Kennedy had shown Barrett rushed toward Zoey and greeted her like her best friend who’d just married a billionaire.
A few patrons sent appreciative glances his way, but the personnel didn’t pay any attention to him as if he were invisible like good help should be. Maybe he needed to get an aroma specialist. He scuffled his worn-out cowboy boots toward the row of chairs where he’d have a good view of Zoey. At least, he wasn’t wearing any manure on his boots right now, because that would be the first thing an aroma specialist pointed out as something to change.
He leaned back in the pristine white leather chair, enjoying the view of lovely Zoey in the mirror. As much as he appreciated her chestnut-colored hair—and secretly wanted to run his fingers through it—the new light-honey color of her long beautiful hair appealed to him.
Yup, and he’d be a fly stuck in honey if he fell in love with Zoey. He was smitten the first moment he saw her, and trying to deny it was getting more and more difficult.
He could do more research on his phone, but he needed to keep an eye on her, so why not use this excuse to drink in her beautiful image? If only to store for later, when she vanished back to the other side of the world.
Like Austin had said, “It was a tough job, but someone had to do it.”
Barrett was thankful to be that someone. Meanwhile, bits and pieces of conversation in the beauty salon drifted to him. He learned some interesting things about the cream of Charleston’s society. And some things he didn’t want to learn, like that one of the patrons had a personal chef not only for herself but also for her poodle.
What was going to happen if pet tarantulas started getting popular? What would a personal chef do for them? Catch flies and mosquitoes? Barrett wasn’t sure what a tarantulas’ diet consisted of, and he wasn’t inclined to look it up.
He was in the business of catching totally different kinds of flies.
Then he couldn’t shake off a weird feeling. After years of following and watching people, he’d also developed an acute sense of when he had been watched. Sort of like invisible ants crawled over his skin. He had this feeling now.
Maybe it was because he might’ve spotted a possible tail twice today.
He tensed again. He didn’t want to leave Zoey alone, but he might not get another chance to investigate. If he hurried up, he’d only need seconds.
Lord, please keep Zoey safe. Please help me do this fast.
He rushed out the front door. His heart beating fast, he spotted the familiar burgundy car near a café that served the best cinnamon rolls in the city. His heart jumped, and he sprinted toward the car. He’d run miles every day on the beach. But of course, the vehicle was faster as its motor growled, and it drove off, its tires squealing.
Disappointment sliced through him. Tempted to jump in his car and give chase, he growled out his frustration. No way would he let someone lure him into leaving Zoey alone.
Or had he done that already?
His heart beating even faster, he hurried back to the salon, visually searched for Zoey, and let out a rush of relief. Nothing had happened to her in his absence, no matter how short.
Honey-hued hair now framed her face with strands of charming curls, and the rest of it was pinned up with sparkly pins. It gave off the image of an eighteenth-century French countess. She sure could buy a castle back in Lazoria if she wanted.
As sophisticated as the image was, a part of him preferred her luscious hair freely flowing over her shoulders. But he understood she was getting ready for a high-society masquerade and this was a part of the costume. His heart hammered, and it wasn’t from the run but just from looking at her.
The job.
He needed to do his job. He dropped onto the chocolate-brown leather chair.
Okay. Think.
He had lots of local connections. One of them happened to own the trendy café across the street. Barrett once helped the owner solve a burglary, and ever since, the guy overloaded the gooey cream cheese frosting on Barrett’s purchases as a sweet sugary-death thank you.
Today, he’d ask for more than a sugar rush. Minutes later, he had the camera recordings from outside the café. It only showed a partial vehicle license of the burgundy car, but that was something. Barrett nearly did a fist pump before he called in another favor.
Minutes later, he had the names of the locals with matching license plate numbers. He watched Zoey from the corner of his eye as he studied the list of names.
Hmm, all right. He dismissed the stay-home mom of five—including toddler twins—as well as the sixty something dentist currently driving to Wisconsin to visit his grandchildren, and the people whose cars looked nothing like the burgundy sedan.
Gotcha!
Barrett zoomed in on a familiar name. He’d studied everyone who worked for Gerald Fowler after the latter landed on their suspects’ list. The burgundy car belonged to one of them. Although officially employed as one of Gerald’s assistants, the guy was unofficially rumored to be his undercover bodyguard.
Barrett’s suspects’ list was growing. But then, he’d looked at many people before as suspects, had to expect the next hit in order to survive. He glanced at his scuffed boots. Maybe he needed to spend more time at the ranch. His gaze moved again to Zoey. Or with her, which he was doing already because of the job. Maybe due to his childhood or to the nature of his job, he’d grown, well, sort of an armor. One as difficult to break as the windows on Kennedy’s car.
But Zoey was breaking that armor already just with her smile.
Barrett tucked the knowledge about Gerald’s assistant into a different part of his brain to study later and returned his full attention—because his attention to her hadn’t wavered while he was inside the salon—to the woman who’d started to consume nearly all his thoughts.
“How do I look?” Ducking her head as if a bit self-conscious, she walked to him.
You take my breath away.
But he had no right to say that, so he just said, “Magnifique! Gorgeous!”
She chuckled. “Every man probably answers that question that way for his own safety.”
Her modesty was refreshing like rain in a desert. And he suddenly felt very thirsty. “But I’m one of those men who totally means it.” For the next one, he had to quickly consult his notes and hope he was going to pronounce it correctly. “Vous êtes très jolie.”
She blinked. “Did you mean ‘vous êtes très jolie’?”
“That’s what I said, right? You’re very pretty.” What exactly did he say? For some reason, half of the letters in that sentence didn’t need to be pronounced. Like the letter S just seemed to, well, sit pretty there. He just hoped he skipped the correct ones. The language did sound beautiful, so it was worth it. More than that, she was worth the effort.
She chuckled. “Close enough. Merci.” Her cheeks pinked.
How irresistibly beyond adorable. She stirred his feelings of tenderness and his more protective instincts. And not only because of his job.
Which he’d better do well.
Too much was at stake.
He checked the outside perimeter to ensure it was safe to open the salon’s front door for her. Neither tail vehicle was in sight, but that didn’t mean there weren’t more. And guns could be fired from any passing vehicle. He’d gone through that experience before and had the scar on his stomach to show for it.
His senses on high alert again, he shielded her as they walked to Kennedy’s luxury bulletproof vehicle. Then he opened the door for Zoey. While he wanted to look at her, his concentration had to be on his surroundings. He dashed around the car and drove off fast.
Okay, so far, so good. “No tail yet.”
He shared what he’d uncovered about the burgundy sedan. He allowed himself a glance at her as compassion unraveled. To her, being targeted was new while he was used to it. His hand moved in her direction, but he stopped himself.
Her chin lifted. “Well, a man has a right to enjoy cinnamon rolls. Or to drive past a shoe store.”
Doubt crept in as he made a turn. Was he seeing danger where there was none? Was he so paranoid he was scaring her needlessly?
Still, it was better safe than sorry. Especially when it concerned Zoey.
His jaw set tight as he stopped at the red light. Just the thought of her possibly being in peril made him see red, and he didn’t mean the traffic light. “I don’t think it’s a coincidence, though I hope it was.” He didn’t want to worry her, either. And she might be hungry by now, even if she didn’t complain. “Would you like to have lunch now?”
Hmm, being in a public place wouldn’t be a good idea for her, but otherwise, he was ready to take her to the fanciest place in town. Would she be okay with a takeout, though?
“How about a hamburger?” she asked.
“A hamburger?” he echoed. His eyes widened. That sounded so... simple. He glanced at her as the light took too long to change. And fine, because he wanted to look at her.
“Do you know where they sell the juiciest, best hamburgers in town? I want extra pickles, too.” She grinned at him.
That grin melted him like cheese on a hamburger. “I know just the place. It’s not here but in a small town halfway to Port Sunshine.”
Someone honked behind them. Oops, the light had changed to green while he’d been staring into her hazel eyes. He pressed on the accelerator, chastising himself. He needed to pay attention to what was happening around him, so he studied the rearview again. He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. So far, they didn’t seem to have a tail.
However, the restaurant with those juicy hamburgers with melted cheese and tons of pickles was a popular place. It would be crowded. Very much so. Not a safe place for her.
She seemed to read his mind. “We can go through the drive-through for safety measures and just eat hamburgers somewhere... somewhere secluded.”
He perked up. “I know just the place,” he said again. “It’s going to take a while to get there, though.”
“That’s okay. I can be patient.”
He’d always considered himself a patient person, but all that patience vanished when he thought how much he wanted to hold her and kiss her.
Once they picked up hamburgers, fries, and drinks, he pulled onto the freeway again. The scents were tempting enough to make his stomach growl. He nodded to the take-out bag as he drove. “You can go ahead and eat.”
“I’d rather wait for you.”
“I don’t want you to eat stale fries.”
“I’d rather wait for you,” she said again.
And he could wait a lifetime for her. In fact, it seemed he had already waited a lifetime for her to show up in his life. Because nobody ever made him feel like she did. Not even his first love.
Lord, why did You bring Zoey into my life just to take her away?
Barrett already had his answer. To protect her.
As if to remind him of that, the burgundy sedan showed up about four vehicles behind him.