He was leaving me there to fend for myself. After canceling my credit cards and putting Dennis on paid leave.
I glanced around me, and saw that Tara and Nectarine were staring at me with a mixture of shock and horror.
“I…I have to go.” I followed Ransom, who was already rounding the street corner and walking into the parking lot. I put my hand on his arm to try to slow him down, but he was fast.
“What’s your problem?” I roared.
His face was stone-cold, his jaw tense as he answered. “Some abandonment issues with a dash of anger management, and inherent impatience. All self-diagnosed. Your turn.”
“My problem is you!” I panted, trying to keep up with his steps.
“Shame.” Mild amusement colored his tone. “Your opinion means so much to me.”
“Did you really cancel all my obligations for this week?” I demanded.
“Yes.” He unlocked my black Nissan LEAF, sliding into the driver’s seat. “You overstayed at the café, breaking your contractual obligation, not even two hours after signing it. If you can’t play by the rules—you won’t be playing at all.”
He revved up the engine before I got inside. I had to jump in quickly from fear he’d leave me there.
Shit. If only I’d read the stupid contract, I’d know what on earth he was talking about. What else I’d signed up for.
“You’re a sadist,” I remarked.
He backed out of the parking space and bolted out of the lot like a professional racecar driver. “Thank you.”
“That wasn’t a compliment.”
“It was, coming from someone with the rhetorical prowess of a nursery schooler. Nice job you got there. Cool friends, too.”
NeNe and Tara weren’t really my friends, but I didn’t want to wash my hands of them just because this man was the most condescending creature on planet Earth.
“My friends aren’t idiots. They’re just…” I tried to think of a flattering way to describe Tara and Nectarine.
“Morons?” Ransom suggested unhelpfully.
“Sheltered.”
“From what? Libraries?” he spat out. “Your friends are a reflection of who you are. And right now it’s looking pretty damn shallow, Brat. You’re aiming too low.”
“We conduct business together. That doesn’t make us soulmates,” I said shortly.
“Those girls couldn’t even spell the word business if they put both their heads together.” He weaved through the condensed Los Angeles traffic. It was so hot the palm trees looked like they were trying to hunch down to avoid the sun.
“I’ve never met someone more judgmental than you!” I flung my arms in the air.
“Try leaving L.A. The world is full of people who actually appreciate substance.”
No point in going back and forth with this guy. We spent the rest of the drive in tense silence. I didn’t dare imagine what Tara and NeNe must have been saying behind my back right now. The scene with Ransom was beyond humiliating. I couldn’t afford to be seen bickering with him in public. He was going to ruin what little respect I’d gained for myself in Tinseltown.
But caving to his tyrannical ways was not an option, either. I had to get rid of him, fast.
When we got back to the house, Ransom informed me he was going out to run errands. He did so in his signature, obnoxious fashion. Flinging open my bedroom door without knocking, and giving me his wouldn’t-burn-you-with-my-last-match expression.
Despite his crudeness, I was ecstatic. Finally, I was going to have some alone time to execute my get-rid-of-Ransom plan.
“I’ll try not to miss you too much.” I jumped up from my bed, about to slam the door in his face. I was on my phone, calling people he’d canceled on that week—party promoters, PR managers, and even Keller—and apologizing for the last-minute bailout.
“Max’ll keep you company, so don’t get any ideas.” Ransom scowled.
Yes. Of course. Max. If only I had the faintest idea who the man was.
“Remind me about Max?” I twirled a lock of my burgundy hair around my finger.
“Your second close protection officer.”
“Oh, right.” I laughed airily. “Is he all sunshine like you?”
He walked away, done with the conversation. Ten minutes later, I heard the front door open. Ransom was talking to this Max guy, who arrived at four in the afternoon sharp. I loitered in my room, listening closely to their conversation in hopes to gain some intel on what was going on. It felt like my house wasn’t mine anymore, with all these strangers coming and going.
When Ransom left, I tried desperately to call my parents. They didn’t answer. When I called their secretaries, I got the same runaround—they were too busy, unable to deal with me right now.
Dejected, I dragged my feet downstairs to introduce myself to Max. No point in making two enemies under this roof.
When I got to my living room, I found a lean, jarringly young-looking man sitting on my couch, flipping through a thick fantasy book. Boyish and unassuming, Max looked like your best friend’s older brother in a ’90s chick flick. He didn’t look threatening like his boss. Better yet—he didn’t stir in me the same discomfort most men caused.
“Oh. Hi.” He stood up awkwardly as soon as I came into view. He put down the book on the couch, wiping his hands over his pants. He offered me his hand. I decided, against my usual judgment, to take it.
My shoulders loosened some. He didn’t look like a bodyguard at all. Not that Ransom did. Ransom looked like a stunning, wealthy heir who found it unbearable to share a planet with average folks.
“I didn’t want to interrupt you upstairs,” Max explained.
Now, that’s the kind of bodyguard I was down with.
“Thanks, I was just working.” The lie rolled smoothly over my tongue. “I’m Hallie.”
“Max.”
We both smiled. He looked so young, for a moment I wondered if he was my age.
“I’m twenty-five,” he said, as if reading my mind. He ducked his head, his cheeks pinking. “It’s just that everyone asks, because I look kinda young. I’m a former SEAL. You’re in good hands.”
“Oh, uhm, I wasn’t doubting your abilities.” I shifted my weight from one foot to the other. “Are you gonna live here, too?” I blurted out, making my way to the kitchen to make both of us smoothies.
Maybe if Max and I got along well, Ransom would take the back seat and give him more shifts and I could have some of my freedom back.
He shook his head in my periphery. “Ran will be with you most of the time. I’m just going to be on standby. But I’ll be on call no matter what.”
My heart sank.
Max sat on a stool in front of me, watching as I shoved a banana, kiwi, strawberries, crushed ice, and coconut milk into my smoothie machine. I poured the finished product into tall glasses and glided one his way across the kitchen island.
He raised his glass in a toast. “Been a second since I’ve had one of these.”
“A smoothie?” I asked.
He nodded. “I used to live in Oceanside. Jamba Juice was like my second home during high school. Quit the healthy habit when I got deployed, though.”