Tough Luck (A-List Security 1)

“I’m not a puppy needing doggie day camp.” My voice rose as too many memories, none of them good, clouded my head. “I don’t need handling or storing away.”

“Okay.” Cash stepped closer, then seemed to think the better of it and stopped in front of the couch. “It was only a suggestion.”

“That I don’t like.” I wrinkled my nose. “What about your plan for alarms and lights?”

“That’s going to take time to do right. Duncan’s got subcontractors who do some of the more involved electrical and construction work, but I doubt they have a same-day opening.” He paced in front of the couch,

“Sit down. You’re making me dizzy.” I gestured at the ample room on the monster couch. I’d fallen in love with the piece at the showroom then had major second thoughts when home. Typical me. And inviting Cash to sit was a mistake. Now I could smell him, something spicy and soapy. Not aftershave, but subtly potent. Somehow he seemed even bigger sitting next to me, massive frame taking up more space than I expected, putting him close enough to touch, not that I was going to. But more tempting for sure.

“I’m going to make some calls.” He tapped his fingers against his thigh. “And then we’re going to one of those home store places, see what we can rig up for tonight at least.”

“The home store? You’re taking me shopping? To one of those DIY superstores?” I wasn’t sure I’d ever been in one. Tools weren’t exactly in my skill set. And going out was always tricky. I liked being out, but the whole being recognized thing tended to keep me home for long stretches. “I’ll be spotted.”

“We’ll head to the burbs.” Cash’s tone was patient. “I know how to spot a tail, trust me. And I’m not leaving you here alone.”

“Oh.” A strange warmth spread across my chest. Might only be a sensible thing, but he wasn’t looking for the first chance to ditch me. I liked it more than I should.

“We’ll rig you a disguise too.” He plopped his ball cap on my head, then grinned. “Add some cheap sunglasses and you’re any college kid in America.”

“I’m not—”

“A kid. I know.” He huffed out a breath before smiling. “But I can’t help it that you look young and fresh off the farm.”

I couldn’t tell if that was a compliment. It wasn’t like he said I looked hot, but his grin made my belly flutter nonetheless.

“Okay.” I decided to at least try to be more agreeable. “Undercover in the lumber aisle. Not like anyone’s expecting to see Danny Love in one of those places.”

“Exactly.” Nodding like he was all pleased with his plan, he pulled out his phone.

A flurry of messages and calls followed, some of which I bet were to Duncan, reporting up on me and how much trouble I was. It didn’t matter how nice Cash was. This was a professional babysitting gig to him, an annoying but necessary favor.

Stewing on that, I followed his lead in getting ready and heading to his older model Bronco.

“Ideally, we’d switch cars.” He circled the SUV with a critical eye. “The drone probably spotted mine. What do you have?”

“I don’t own a car.” My neck heated. “Never learned to drive.”

It went without saying that my various legal troubles had made such a prospect more difficult, and even though I was sober now without restrictions on my ability to get a license, it was daunting.

“You should learn.” Cash nodded as he finished checking all around the car before unlocking it.

“You make it sound easy.”

“It is. Get in the car.” He opened the passenger door for me, a novelty because I usually rode in back with friends who had hired drivers or the few times I used a ride app. But Cash assumed I’d ride up front. Like an equal. A buddy, which I wasn’t, but it might be fun to pretend.

“Should I make a list for the store?” That was what helpful people would offer, right?

“Already started one.” He pointed at his phone, which he’d stuck in a cup holder on the console between us. “But you can add to it while I drive.”

“You trust me with your phone?” I scooped it up before he could take away the offer.

“Sure.” Not even looking over at me, he put the car in drive. “I keep it down to a handful of apps I actually use. And unlike some people, the only pics are a few from my last day on base. I don’t care if you see those.”

“I’m not an exhibitionist.” I didn’t know what to make of his tease. Unable to resist, I clicked on his photo gallery.

“Uh-huh.” He headed out of the hills, attention mainly on frequent checks of his mirrors. That was okay because my own attention was riveted to his pictures. Hot SEAL eye candy for days. Very few snapshots with Cash actually in them, but one of an empty room with a bed made my chest clench. He might pretend to be all tough and not sentimental, but I knew better. Apparently not caring about me flipping through his gallery, he added, “Whatever floats your boat. Just be careful how you store your selfies and who you send them to.”