I generally only work eight hours at a time unless we have a concert at night, but I get more breaks than you’d think. Usually when Amelia is just hanging at home or in her hotel room, the surveillance guys take over. That’s when I get downtime to explore whatever city we’re in and meet all kinds of people. Thanks to my job, I’ve gone skydiving in Paris, snorkeling in the Bahamas, and ATV riding in Cape Town. I always try to do at least one exciting thing that each city is known for.
But now I’m in Rome, Kentucky, staring at a white ceiling in a frilly bed-and-breakfast where absolutely nothing exciting takes place. There’s only one bar in town and nothing else. Forget adventure. Looks like I’ll have to take up embroidery.
It’s only a month, and it’s for Amelia, I remind myself.
I throw on a pair of athletic shorts and running shoes and spend the next hour jogging through this backwoods country town. My bad mood slowly melts away as I watch the sun come up and highlight the wheat and corn fields. Everything is gold for a few minutes, and although I’ve always been more of a city guy, even I can admit that summertime in the country is beautiful. The grass is so green it almost doesn’t feel real. Eventually I loop my way through the town just as shop owners are opening their doors.
And that’s when I notice it: eyes peering at me from all directions. Through shop windows. Peeking out entrances. Around corners. Even though I’m drenched with sweat and dead tired, I pick up my speed because I swear everyone in this town is moving out of their shops like a freaky horror movie to stare at me as I run by. What the hell?
When I finally make it back to the inn and am bent over, hands on my thighs trying to catch my breath, a pair of black flats enters my line of sight. They stop right next to the big drop of sweat that just fell from my forehead to the pavement. It’s so hot out I swear it sizzles.
I look up and find none other than Amelia Rose in her dark jeans, black-and-white-striped tee, and a travel coffee mug in hand—a big bag with a logo for the local diner hangs off her arm. Her eyebrows lift, and I’m still too out of breath to say anything more than, “Hey. I’m back in town.”
“I see that,” she says, amusement coloring her tone. “I was just picking up some breakfast from the diner and thought I’d come by and make sure you got settled in. But here you are.” She sips her coffee, looking like she could laugh.
“Here I am.” I can barely breathe still.
“So you jogged through town like that?”
“Like what?” I say, finally standing to my full height and using my wadded up T-shirt to soak up the sweat from my face and neck.
“Bare chested and a walking billboard for your tattoo artist?”
I look down at my abdomen as if I’m just realizing I’m not wearing a shirt. “Yeah,” I say, looking up at her and still breathing heavily. “Is that bad? Is there a dress code around here for running?”
Again she smirks. “Not officially. But I better get back home so I can field all the calls about to flood my landline.”
“Wait, why?” I ask her retreating back.
“Because the gossip train is going to be chugging along at warp speed this morning. Gotta catch it before it gets too far!” She raises her mug. “Come up to the house after you get changed. We’ve got lots of breakfast to share!”
Executive protection agents are not supposed to enjoy sit-down breakfasts with the people they are protecting. And yet Amelia has always been determined to add me to her circle of friends if it’s the last thing she does.
* * *
—
Half an hour later and freshly showered, I knock on Amelia and Noah’s front door. She opens it with her landline phone stuck to her ear. “Uh-huh. Absolutely. That’s an excellent point, Harriet, I’ll be sure to pass that along.” She smiles and waves me inside.
I have to step over the curly phone cord that is running from the kitchen around the small island, disappearing around the corner wall, and then down the hallway and up to the phone she’s holding. It’s also looped once around her waist.
Amelia points toward the living room, gesturing for me to go in and have a seat. She spends the last bit of her conversation on the phone unraveling herself from the cord. I hear a door open and shut behind me, and when I see Noah appear from the hallway, I stand.
“Will,” he says coming into the room and extending his hand. I clasp it, and we give each other a firm shake. “It’s good to have you back.”
I genuinely like Noah. Amelia dated a few guys before him whose teeth I wanted to knock down their throats. But this guy is legit. He’s loyal and puts Amelia first. I trust him and he seems to trust me.