“Come in. I’ll give you a tour. It’ll be quick because the place isn’t big.”
“Sure.”
“Half bath through that door.” He points beyond the sofa. “And the kitchen…”
I follow to find it situated behind the far wall. The white cabinets and matching tile counters are from another age, but the appliances are nice and new. I could cook here, for sure. Adjacent to that is a farm table in the nook space that seats six.
In the hallway, across from a pair of wide windows that show off the side yard, sits a state-of-the-art washer and dryer behind a pair of distressed doors that tell me the utility cubby was once a closet.
At the end of the hall is the first of the cottage’s two bedrooms. It’s inescapably romantic. The wall behind the bed is a floor-to-ceiling rustic wood detail with a wrought iron filagree design hanging just above the massive cherry-wood headboard. The bed itself looks like a queen-size cushion of white fluff, accompanied by a mountain of dreamy, lacy pillows. A chandelier completes the look, along with a petite table beside that serves as both a nightstand and a desk.
The attached bath is small and painted in soft shades of gray, reminding me that this house was probably built a hundred years ago, maybe more. Whoever owns it has spruced up the bathroom with a pedestal sink, a stylish framed mirror, and a big claw-foot tub with an old-fashioned faucet. But I also see a shower head jutting from the wall. A little shelf nearby holds a stack of clean white towels.
“Except for the bedroom at the other end of the house with a set of bunk beds, that’s it.” Rand shrugs.
I’m fascinated by the way his massive shoulders work and the rippling of his arms. Hell, I’m fascinated by him in general.
But he’s not why I’m here, and I need to start thinking about things that are more important, like who wants me dead.
“It’s cute.”
“Ransom’s friend sometimes rents it out to people he knows. During a holiday, he would usually be here, but he’s in the middle of a divorce…so it’s a no on the fun family getaways.”
I know how that goes. “I’m sorry to hear that. With bunk beds, I assume they have kids.”
“A girl and a boy, both almost teenagers now, I think.”
That makes the split even sadder. Or maybe just more familiar.
Rand takes my arm and leads me back down the hall, leaving me beside the sofa. “Let’s make a list of everything we need for now. I’m thinking we’ll be here a couple of days, maybe more.”
Until now, I haven’t given any thought about how long we’ll have to lie low. “You mean until we figure out who shot at me?”
“Or we can discern some other way to keep you safe long-term.”
Now that we’re here and I’m feeling calmer than I have in a few hours, one question pelts my brain. “Why are you doing this? Most bodyguards just get the client out of the dangerous situation and wash their hands.”
“It’s a fair question.” He lets out a breath. “Two reasons. First, I lost a client early in my career. A businessman on a trip to Mexico. It sucked, and I took a lot of heat for overlooking an angle of his protection. But I learned. Second, that’s where I met Rob, and it means the world to me that he trusted me, of all people, with you. I know he’s worked for you for a couple of years and I know he’s very fond of you.”
“He’s a good guy.” And it says a lot that he chose Rand to watch over me.
“How long before the press is in a frenzy that you’re ‘missing’?”
“They probably already are. Check Twitter and TMZ.”
Rand produces his phone, then thumbs and scrolls and scans the screen. He curses. “That didn’t take long.”
“It never does. Being famous is a bit like living in a fishbowl. Everything you do runs a risk of being highly visible, and everyone thinks they have the right to know every aspect of your life.”
“I can’t imagine.” He shakes his head. “We’ll get this figured out and get you back to your life as soon as possible, okay?”
He’s sweet for trying to reassure me, but… “I don’t need you to sugarcoat this. I know keeping me safe won’t be easy, especially since I don’t have any idea who wants me dead.”
“Let’s focus first on setting up here.” He looks me up and down with a wry smile. “You look great in my shirt, but I’m probably going to need it back since it’s my only one. And I’m assuming you want something more your size.”
“That might be nice.”
“I’ll see what I can do. For now, peek in the closet in the back bedroom. Joe’s daughter probably keeps some clothes here. You’re a little thing. Something might fit.”