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“But I’d make such a snazzy Prince Charming,” he said as he lifted his coffee cup in salute. “Do you have something against the prince, the singing animals or wicked stepmothers?”
“All of the above.” She gave him a long look that forced a sharp comment. “Especially handsome princes with cowboy hats and big smiles.”
“Ouch.” He touched his hand to his heart. “Sorry, but we don’t have a choice.”
“Then, tell me what we’re really doing because I’m too old for fairy tales.”
“We’re going to your dad’s fund-raiser. I’m supposed to make sure you show up and that you behave.”
She took a bite of biscuit. “He knows me so well.”
That was what this was all about. It wasn’t about her safety. It was about his campaign. His career. And making sure she didn’t mess up either one. She was twenty-four years old and he still doubted her ability to be a Stanford. Truth be told, she doubted it, too. If he hadn’t done the DNA test, she would have been positive she wasn’t his offspring, so different were they.
She was her mother’s daughter. The embarrassment. He’d never actually called her that. Her youngest half brother, Michael, had. She’d heard him tell a friend to ignore her, that she was dropped off on the doorstep as a baby and her mother was insane.
“You okay?” Boone Wilder’s voice was softly concerned, taking her by surprise.
She looked up from the empty plate and gave him her best carefree smile. “Of course. I’m just deciding what to wear.”
“Of course you are.”
“We could let him know I have a concussion and maybe he’ll let us off the hook.”
“I already tried that. He said if you can walk, he wants you there.”
“Of course he did. Dear old Dad, he’s all heart.”
He refilled her mug, then his. “For what it’s worth, he did sound concerned.”
“Did he?” That was a surprise. She carried her plate to the sink and rinsed it. “Where’s Lucy?”
“On your patio. She said you have the best view in the city.” Boone took the rinsed plate and opened the door of the dishwasher.
“I’m sorry about last night. I’m sure you didn’t plan for a fun Friday night at the ER.”
“We were working. So nothing to apologize for.”
Of course. Her dad was probably paying them a decent amount for their babysitting services. “If you have your measurements, we can send out for a tux. No need to go shopping. And I already have a dress.”
“I do have my measurements. But I’d give anything to not go shopping.”
She noticed he rubbed his shoulder as he said it. Her gaze was drawn again to the scar on his face, and then lower to the one on his neck.
“Shrapnel,” he said.
She met his dark gaze. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to stare.”
“No one ever does.”
“Iraq?”
“Afghanistan.” He set his cup on the counter. “About that monkey suit I have to wear...”
She nodded and headed for her room and her cell phone she’d left there. When she walked through the door of her bedroom, she noticed the bouquet of flowers on her dresser. Her dad had probably sent them. His way of being there when he wasn’t.
She found the card buried amid the blooms and opened it.
You shouldn’t have run, because now we’re going to play dirty. Your secrets remain secrets. We get the money. Tell your father.
She grabbed the flowers and hurried from her room, carrying them in front of her. She ignored Boone as she opened the trash can and shoved the flowers inside, vase and all. She ripped up the card and tossed it in, shuddering as the scraps of paper fluttered among the bloodred blooms.
“What’s that all about?” Boone’s voice rumbled in her ear. She shook her head, unable to answer.
He reached past her, retrieving the pieces of card.
“Who delivered these?” he asked as he pieced the card together on the counter.
“Like I know? I was sleeping. You were here when they were delivered.” Her voice shook. She really didn’t want to sound shaky or afraid. She didn’t want to give this unknown person that kind of power over her.
“No, actually, I wasn’t. The flowers were on your dresser when we got here last night. You were pretty wiped out and probably didn’t notice.”
“They were in here already?”
“Yeah, darlin’, they were here. On your dresser. You didn’t know you had flowers?”
“No. I didn’t know.”
“Well, that’s a problem,” Boone said, as casual as if he was talking about the weather.
“So what do we do?” Lucy asked as she walked in from the living room.
“We go on about our business.” Boone shrugged as he said it. “And we all sit down and get honest about what’s going on here. Your dad said he wants you front and center at campaign events. And you’re trying to push this off as an overzealous admirer. Neither of you is being honest. What secrets is this guy talking about?”
“I don’t know. Maybe my drug use. Most people know about my mom. Maybe this person believes there’s more to her story. I don’t know.”
“I’m not buying any of it.” Boone grabbed a ziplock bag out of a drawer and brushed the pieces of note into it. “We’ll see if we can salvage any prints.”
“I didn’t know that they were contacting my dad,” Kayla said. She tried to remember something, anything about her attacker.
“He wanted to protect you. You were obviously trying to protect him,” Lucy chimed in.
“Yes, we’re all about protecting one another.” Kayla walked away, unwilling to dwell on the pain of knowing how untrue those words were.
Boone followed her out to the deck. She walked to the ledge and looked out over the city of Austin. It was an incredible view. She blinked back tears that threatened to blur her vision. She would not cry.
A hand, strong and warm, rested on her shoulder, pulled her a little bit close, then moved away. She found herself wanting to slide close to him, to allow the comfort of his touch to continue. She could use a hug right now.
Great, she was getting sappy. She could imagine the look on his face if she told him she needed a hug. He’d get that goofy grin on his face and pull the Prince-Charming-to-the-rescue act. No, she didn’t need that.
Take a deep breath. Blink away the tears. Be the Kayla people expected.
“We should order that tux now. Wouldn’t want to disappoint my father and show up in jeans and boots. And ruin his black tie affair.”
He laughed. “No, we wouldn’t want to do that. Glad you’re back, Stanford. I would miss this sweet sarcasm if it got all mixed up with other emotions.”
“Yes, I do like predictable.”
He tipped back his black cowboy hat and winked. “Predictable is one thing you’re not.”
* * *
That evening Lucy drove them to the clubhouse of the Summer Springs Country Club. “I’ll be waiting out here for you all. Try not to get in trouble.”
“Because Lucy doesn’t want to have to shoot anyone,” Boone quipped, hoping to lighten the mood. He winked at his partner and she grinned back. “We’ll be good, Luce. And keep an eye out for our blond and handsome friend who likes to leave roses and concussions as a calling card.”
“Will do, partner.”
Boone opened the door and then stepped back to allow his date to exit the vehicle. She wore a black evening dress, with pearls around her neck and all that dark hair pulled back in some kind of fancy bun.
“You clean up pretty good, Kayla Stanford.” He offered her his arm and she settled her fingers on the crook of his elbow. “You smell good, too.”
“Charming.”
“That’s Prince Charming to you.”
She sighed. “Are you ever serious?”
“I thought you were cornering the market on serious. And I have to say, I’m a little disappointed. You’re not living up to your reputation.”
“I’m turning over a new leaf,” she offered. He didn’t push. He’d seen the book for the twelve-step program in her apartment, worn with pages dog-eared. He got it. They all had stuff they had to battle.
“Well, then, let’s do this.” He led her toward the entrance of the stone-and-stucco building. People were milling about at the entrance. Security checked IDs at the door.
Kayla tightened her grip on his arm.
“You okay?”
She nodded and kept walking. “I’m good. I really dislike these functions. I always feel like I don’t belong. You know, square, square, square, oval.”
“You’re the oval?”
A hint of a smile tilted her pretty lips. “Yeah, that’s me.”
“Well, tonight you’re with another oval. Have a little faith, Kayla.”
“Faith?” She smiled at that. “Now you sound like the Martins.”
“They’re good people.”
“Yes, they are. They’ve all accepted me. Helped me.”
“If the Martins like you, then you’ve got decent people in your corner.” He patted the hand on his elbow.
She shot him a look. “Let’s not get all emotional, cowboy. You’re my bodyguard, not my therapist.”
“You got that right.” Boone took a quick look around. Because he was her bodyguard, not a therapist. And definitely not her date.
This wasn’t new territory for him, slipping into the role of fixer. He’d learned a few hard lessons on that, the most important one in Afghanistan. He had the scars as a reminder.
He tried to remember the rules. Don’t get taken in by sad stories, by soft looks or a pretty face. Definitely don’t get personal with a client.
He had his own family to worry about. They needed him present in their lives, not sidetracked. Kayla needed him unemotional if he was going to keep her safe.
At the door the security detail checked their names against the list of invited guests. Boone let out a low whistle as they were ushered inside.
“Don’t be too impressed,” Kayla warned.
“I’m not impressed, I just didn’t realize money could be wasted this way. I bet I could fence our entire property with the money they spent on these light fixtures.”
She looked up, blinking, as if she’d never noticed those fancy crystal fixtures before. “I guess you probably could. We could take one with us, if you’d like?”
He laughed. “There’s the Kayla I’ve heard so much about. What do we do first?”
“Socialize,” she said. “I’m sure everyone is mingling, discussing politics and their neighbors and how to take down the person they pretend is their best friend.”
“Sounds like a great time. I can’t believe you don’t enjoy these events.”
She flicked a piece of lint off the collar of his tuxedo and smiled up at him. “I find ways to enjoy myself.”
The statement, casual with a hint of a grin and a mischievous twinkle in her blue eyes, sounded warning bells. He gave her a careful look and she widened those same blue eyes in a less-than-perfect imitation of innocence.
“Not tonight,” he warned.
“Spoilsport.”
“No, just the guy who wants to keep you safe. I can’t do that if you pull a stunt.”
“I’m not going to do anything, I promise. Come with me. Time to greet my father.”
She led him through double doors and into a large room complete with linen-covered tables, candlelight, a small orchestra in the far corner and of course dozens of people. Boone took a careful look around the room. So these were the people who paid hundreds of dollars a plate just to say they’d attended or contributed. Impressive.
“There’s my father.” She nodded in the direction of a stately gray-haired man, his tuxedo obviously not rented.
“Should we make our presence known?”
“Soon. He’s talking to supporters. The woman coming up behind him is my stepmother, Marietta. My half brother Andrew is talking to that group. He’s very good at being good.”
She said it in such a way that meant she didn’t dislike Andrew. As if his being good wasn’t a horrible thing.
