“Holy shit, you’re alive,” Dante deadpans. “Good to know.”
Jude rolls his eyes. “Jesus, Dante. Save some drama for the movies.”
“We could have easily done this over the phone.”
My brother unlinks our arms and hobbles toward the fridge. “Could you please settle down and have a beer—”
“Why are you limping?” Dante’s golden brown skin loses some color. He turns to Myles who has just entered the house behind him. “How did Jude get hurt? Aren’t you supposed to be their bodyguard?”
Myles kicks the door shut to a flurry of camera flashes. “The hell I am.” He spears me with a warning look. “When were you two on the news?”
To someone who is just meeting the bounty hunter for the first time, his personality might come across as forceful. Or aggressive. But not to me. I recognize the line of worry between his eyebrows and the way he can’t seem to get a swallow down. We’ve made this man’s job infinitely harder and he’s rolled with the punches. He could have left us vulnerable. Sure, he shouts and curses and he doesn’t have a tactful bone in his body, but he’s…a wonderful sort of asshole. Isn’t he? He’s my asshole.
Oh God. I’m in trouble.
“I’m starting to wonder if this guy is the reason you’re limping,” Dante mutters, crossing his arms over his superhero chest.
And I don’t know what happens inside of me in that moment. I just sort of lose it.
Is that the second time in five minutes that someone has accused Myles of inflicting bodily harm on us? Yes. Yes, it is. A geyser of protectiveness plumes inside of me. Especially when I see Myles flinch over the casual accusation. He’s not made of stone. He’s a protector. A good man despite what he presents to the world. How many blows can his armor withstand?
Before I perceive my own intentions, I’m across the room like a whirlwind. I pick up Myles’s hand and intertwine our fingers, holding our joined hands close to my chest. “This man is very good at his job. Unfortunately, he cannot protect Jude from a jellyfish. That is why he’s limping—”
“I wasn’t seriously accusing him—” Dante starts, holding up a contrite hand.
“Well you did.” I squeeze in closer to Myles’s side. “You did. And he didn’t deserve it. Yes, he comes across like a massive jerk, but he’s got a soft center, you know?” I wait for Dante to nod. “He’d take a bullet between the eyes before he raised a hand to me. Those were his precise words earlier. And he feels the exact same way about Jude.”
“Not the exact same way, Taylor,” Myles mutters, shrugging at Jude. “Nothing personal.”
“Too bad.” Jude snaps the caps off two bottles of beer, uses them to gesture at the three of us. “I’ve seen that porn, too.”
“Jesus,” Dante sighs, but the corner of his lips are tugging. “You haven’t changed at all.”
Jude’s expression doesn’t change. “That makes one of us.”
The movie star’s smile drops. He and Jude go back to staring at each other and they don’t stop, even when Jude limps across the floor and hands his friend a beer. They’re like two alley cats waiting to see who will blink first.
“We should leave them to talk,” I say, looking up at Myles—and I’m surprised to find him already frowning down at me. Not angrily. More curious or surprised.
“Massive jerk, huh?”
“That’s the part you’re zeroing in on?”
“No,” he says quietly, cupping the side of my face. Watching in fascination as his thumb skims my cheekbone. “It’s not.”
“Oh?”
Grunt. “I’m waiting for the police to get back to me on Evergreen Corp. Could be an hour or so.” He shakes his head. “There are a lot of other leads I need to follow, but I just keep thinking about how you never got your ice cream.”
I don’t know if it’s possible to fall in love with a man in four days. But if it is, I think I’ve just soundly accomplished that feat with Myles Sumner. And there’s no more pretending I’m not heading for a very steep fall.
Chapter 18
Myles
* * *
I don’t take her back to downtown Falmouth for ice cream. There’s no chance of that. After doubling back three times to make sure we’re not being followed, I drive us to Wood’s Hole in Taylor’s Elantra. Where hopefully no one is trying to kill her.