Chapter 1
AMY
At the sound of the door sliding open, I look up from the computer. As the receptionist for Sunset Security, it’s my job to greet new clients with a sunny smile and pleasant demeanor. But the smile freezes on my lips when I see who it is coming in the main entrance.
“I bought you a cappuccino.” The boy holds up a takeout cup with coffee that I didn’t ask for and probably won’t drink.
I’ve got a reusable takeout mug sitting under the desk that I use whenever I want coffee from the cafe next door, which is hardly ever since Bronn got the good coffee machine installed in the kitchen.
But since the one time I bought a cappuccino from the shop next door, this boy’s got it in his head that he’s doing something nice for me by bringing over a free drink every day.
It would be sweet if it wasn’t such an obvious excuse to stare at my boobs.
“Thank you.”
I’ve been brought up too polite to refuse a gift, so I thank him and take the drink, which sloshes over the rim and burns my fingers.
The boy—I forget his name. James or Jaxon or Jamie? I don’t want to ask because it would be rude considering he’s been coming in here for the last two weeks. Whatever his name is, he leans on the reception desk and gives me a nervous smile.
“I, um…”
His eyes flick to my chest, making me wish I’d worn a high-neck blouse instead of the low-cut one I put on trying to get someone else’s attention.
When his gaze comes back to mine, his pimply cheeks are tinged pink.
At least he has the decency to be embarrassed about getting caught staring at my chest.
“I, um… Do you want to have a coffee with me sometime?”
He’s nervous and sweet, and his brown eyes look both terrified and hopeful.
He’s not bad looking, if you like that kind of thing, with a thick head of sandy hair and clear, youthful skin. His face is clean shaven and smooth. There’re no scars of experience or lines on his face.
He’s probably the same age as me, nineteen, or maybe a bit older.
I can hear my best friend Sarah’s words in my head: You’re never gonna lose your v-card if you don’t go on any dates.
She’s right. I should say yes. I should at least have coffee with this boy.
He smiles hopefully, and his eyes dart back to my breasts. His tongue flicks over his lips and this time he doesn’t bother to look back up at my face.
I should. But there’s only one man I’m interested in dating, and it’s certainly not this boob-obsessed adolescent.
“Sorry.” I give him what I hope is a reluctant smile. “I’m not allowed to date.”
His gaze darts up to mine, and his brow furrows in confusion.
It’s kind of true. My dad is always joking that I’m not allowed to go out with any boys. He banned me from dating when I was younger, but since I turned eighteen, he has no right to stop me. But the truth is, there’s only one man I want to date, and he’s not interested in me at all.
“How old are you?” the boy asks.
“I’m nineteen.”
He looks concerned. “You should be able to make your own decisions.”
He’s getting indignant on my behalf, and it’s kinda sweet but awkward. I was hoping he’d get the hint without me having to spell it out.
I shrug, which is the wrong move because his wandering eyes lock on my wobbling boobs. Ah, the pleasures of being a curvy girl. Every movement I make takes my boobs a few seconds to catch up.
“My dad’s pretty tough. Ex-military, Special Forces.”
The boy stands up straight, getting his elbows off my reception desk and his eyes off my tits.
“He doesn’t let you date? Can’t you go out anyway? You’re an adult.”
This boy’s sweet, and maybe what I’m about to do is a little mean, but I hate saying a flat-out no. Besides, maybe it will scare him away for good and I won’t have to put up with his boob staring anymore.
“I went on a date once without him knowing,” I lie. “He tracked us down. Broke both the guy’s arms.”
The boy goes pale, and I try not to smile. “Broke his arms?” he asks faintly.
“Oh, don’t worry.” I’m really getting into this now. “They reckon he’ll be out of hospital in a few more months.”
The boy backs away from the reception desk looking horrified.
At that moment, the door that leads through to the office opens, and Leo strides through.
My pulse jumps up a notch at the sight of him. His weathered features and salt-and-pepper hair. The scar that runs behind his ear to halfway down his neck. The tattoos that snake down his thick, muscular arms, telling the story of his life.
Leo’s gaze finds mine, a slight smile on his lips that disappears when he sees the boy, who has made the mistake of stealing another look at my chest.
“What the fuck are you staring at?”
Leo strides toward him and the boy stumbles backward, a look of pure terror on his face.
“I was… I was…”
Leo doesn’t give him time to explain.
“You keep your eyes on me, kid, or on the floor.”
The boy is shaking so hard I think he’s going to wet himself.
“I was just bringing her some coffee, that’s all. Don’t break my arms, please.”
Leo pauses and casts a look over his shoulder at me. His eyebrows shoot up in a questioning look.
Leo’s blocking the boy’s view of me so he can’t see me trying not to crack up. I give my shoulders a little shrug, and Leo’s eyes glint with mischief.
Then he puts his hard-ass Army face on and turns back to the boy.
“I don’t want to see you in here again. If Amy wants a coffee, I’ll fetch it for her. You stay the fuck away from her. You understand?”
“Yes, sir.” The kid trembles and I kind of feel sorry for him, but then I remember the uncomfortable feeling of his eyes on my boobs and all sympathy vanishes. Besides, I’m too busy enjoying the way Leo’s back ripples with tension.
“Now get the fuck out of here.”
He takes a step back, giving the kid enough room to scramble out of the door.
When Leo turns around, I burst out laughing. He shakes his head at me as he saunters over to the reception desk.
“Break his arms? What was that all about?”
I tell him about the story I concocted about my dad and how he must have assumed Leo was my father.
Leo grins, and by the time I’ve finished telling him the story, we’re both laughing so hard my side hurts. I always end up laughing when I’m with Leo. He has a way of making me feel good whenever he’s around.
“Good story, kid.”
He ruffles my hair, and the good feeling inside me vanishes.
That’s all I am to Leo. A kid.
He still thinks of me as a girl. He hasn’t noticed that I’ve grown into a woman.
I’ve been in love with my father’s best friend ever since I was twelve years old.
Dad was back from tour, and him and Mom were arguing again. Only this time, the arguing was quiet, which was worse than the shouting. I heard Mom use the word divorce, and I ran outside, too scared to hear any more.
I ran out to the treehouse and climbed inside. There were some loose boards in the ceiling, and I pulled them aside and pulled myself up onto the roof, hidden by the foliage of the maple tree.
I stayed there until the light faded and didn’t come down even when they were calling my name.
It was Leo who found me huddled in the tree, shivering in the cool evening air.
He climbed up and sat with me, taking off his jacket to drape it over my shoulders.
At first neither of us spoke. He just sat with me until the light completely faded from the sky. Then he started telling me jokes. Bad, cheesy jokes, but they made me laugh.
He told me funny stories about my dad on tour, and by the time another half hour had passed, the scary feeling of not knowing what was happening had gone, and I was in love with my father’s best friend.
When we climbed down from the treehouse, when my mom cried with relief and Dad opened his arms, I looked up at Leo, wanting to stay with him, to laugh with him rather than face the reality of what I knew was happening with my parents.
He gave me a reassuring smile. “You’re going to be all right, kid.” And he ruffled my hair.
Yeah. To him, I’m still that twelve-year-old girl. Will he ever notice that I’m a woman?