Her Rancher Bodyguard

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.