Bottle It Up: (A Between the Pines Novel) Read online

  “Yep, on book four. She’s really good, Josh. It’s too bad they already made a TV series because I could totally see you starring as the lead in the film version.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Yep, the hero of these books is an arrogant pretty boy who leaves broken hearts in his wake until he finds the love of his life.”

  “Did you just call me an arrogant pretty boy?”

  I wrap my arm around his waist and pull him closer. “I said you could play the part well. But if the personality traits fit…”

  His arm around my shoulders turns into a headlock while his knuckles apply a noogie to the top of my head.

  Some things never change.

  “You better watch yourself, Emmy.”

  Opening my mouth to reply, I opt to remain silent when I see six pairs of prying eyes when we enter the dining room, and my words go running back inside my head. The other people in the room look very serious, and our immature antics feel very out of place.

  Scanning the room, I recognize his manager Jace, publicist Sibby, and his agent Paul all sitting on Josh’s plush white dining chairs in front of the dark table that screams masculine and modern. Reeves stands at the end of the table with two other men in dark suits similar to his. Reeves is tall and strong, but the man standing next to him is intimidating, to say the least.

  Tall, barrel-chested, and devastatingly handsome in that “rugged, don’t mess with me” way, Reeves’s new team member has all of my attention. Unfortunately, everything about him says he’s all business with no intention of making friends with anyone in the room.

  Suddenly, team meetings have gotten a bit more interesting and inviting.

  “Josh. Emmett. Please have a seat.” Sibby motions to two empty chairs across from her, Jace, and Paul.

  Crap. Maybe serious guy is serious for a reason.

  “What’s going on, Sibby? Reeves, who are your friends?”

  “Go ahead, Reeves.” Sibby relinquishes the honors of explaining today’s get-together.

  “Mr. West, we’ve brought in additional protection for Miss Ford. I’d like to introduce you to Mr—”

  “Just call me Hopper, sir.” Serious guy interrupts Reeves, and surprisingly, Josh’s head of security takes a step back and lets him take over. “Some threats have been made toward Miss Ford, and we’re here to make sure she stays safe while you’re away, and Reeves is accompanying you. This is Smith.” He motions to the shaggy-haired blond also in a suit who Reeves is now standing next to. “He and I will stay here in Los Angeles with Miss Ford while you’re away.”

  “What threats?” Josh asks the question stuck in my throat.

  Reeves steps forward and slides a folder across the table toward Josh.

  “What is this?” Josh asks, seemingly afraid to open the folder.

  “Sir, an envelope was delivered today via the regular mail containing photos of Miss Ford, and they’ve caused us a bit of alarm. But it isn’t anything we can’t handle.”

  “What do you mean alarm? Here, let me see that.” I huff, snatching the folder from Josh.

  I throw the folder open with an attitude that swiftly fades to a whimper when I see the photos that have caused all the fuss. These photos of me have been manipulated to show horrible things. Decapitation. Stabbing. My eyes ripped out and hanging from their sockets. You name it, and they’ve made it happen to me. There are no threatening words, just the mostly black and white paparazzi photos covered in blood red. And destruction.

  “What the fuck? Who the hell would send something like this?” Josh asks yet another question I’d love the answer to.

  Serious guy or Hopper speaks again. “Sir, we’re certain it’s just a scare tactic from a jealous fan who hasn’t taken too well to the new woman in your life.” His eyes flick to mine ever so briefly, and even with the pictures laid out in front of me, I’d be lying if I said one look from him didn’t make me hot and bothered to the point I nearly pick one of the pictures up to fan myself. “These are all photos taken by the paparazzi and have appeared in magazines, so we’re pretty sure they aren’t stalking Miss Ford to take the pictures. This is a good thing.”

  A good thing? Really? Are we finding the ray of light in this mess already?

  “I want this asshole found now!” Josh bellows, pounding his fist into the cherry wood table. His rage sends a chill down my spine. I’ve never seen him like this.

  “Hey, Josh. Calm down, man. We’ve got the best men on the job, and they’ll keep Emmett safe. It’s gonna be okay.” Jace speaks up from across the table. He seems to be the only person who can make Josh see reason when he’s worked up.

  Sibby speaks directly to me and not to Josh. It’s kinda nice for a change. “You okay, Emmett?”

  “Uh…” That’s a very good question. “I think so, Sibby. Thank you for asking. I’m sure it’s no big deal, and I really appreciate the extra security, but I hate to be a burden.”

  “A burden?” Josh yells, looking at me as though I’ve lost my mind. “How are you a burden? It’s not your fault that because you’ve agreed to be a part of my shitstorm of a life, you’ve got some psycho out there doing this.” He refers to the folder that he closes and slides back to Reeves. “This is not your fault, and I promise you, we’ll do everything we can to keep you safe.”

  “Still…”

  “No! Don’t even go there, Emmett.” He turns to the security team. “Tell us what to do, and we’ll do it.”

  “There isn’t much to do. We’ll just need to make sure we go over both of your schedules to a T so we can plan. We’ll also need a list of family and friends who should be given clearance. Let’s start with your schedules.”

  This is where Jace comes in. He knows exactly how Josh is going to spend every minute of every day for the next year or two. He has copies of Josh’s itinerary for the film shoot he’ll be leaving for in a few days and hands them out to everyone in attendance.

  After we’ve gone over our schedules, all but the security team leaves, and I give them the names of my friends, family, and co-workers so they have a list of approved people in my life.

  Who would have ever thought I would be in a position to have to come up with a list like this? Or that I would be giving it to a team of bodyguards who are hotter than should be legal yet scary as all get-out. But...mostly hot. This is so unfair when I have two years of celibacy ahead of me.

  Reeves is your standard bodyguard. He has short dark hair and is attractive but not so attractive he stands out in a crowd. Smith looks like he rides big waves in his downtime with his sun-bleached waves curling around his neckline. They’re both handsome, tall, and don’t have an ounce of fat on them, but with Hopper in the room, I barely notice them.

  When he was standing at the other end of the table, I was instantly attracted to him, but now, with him in the chair next to me going over all the details of the people in my life, I have an up close and personal view.

  It’s as though I’m seeing him in HD.

  His hair that looked jet black from across the room is actually littered with bits of silver at his temples. His hair is actually dark brown and maybe not black, after all. There is a small scar above his eyebrow, one farther up on his forehead near his hairline, one on his chin, and one on his cheek that is round and barely there. I can’t help but wonder if he can grow hair there if he were to grow a beard. All the scars have faded and are only noticeable due to our proximity.

  It only takes a few minutes to give them the information they need, and much to my dismay, the room empties, leaving Josh and me alone at the dining room table.

  “Fuck, Emmy. I am so sorry. I should have never asked you to come here.”

  “You didn’t. I offered, remember?”

  “If you had known this was going to happen, would you have volunteered to come here and play the part of my significant other?”

  “It’s only two years, Josh, and you’ve worked too hard to get where you are. Besides, it’s not like you aren’t
giving me a great life. I mean, look at this place. The house, the clothes, the hobnobbing with the rich and famous. You haven’t sold me into some sort of indentured slavery. There are worse situations I could be in. Best of all, I get to hang out with you more.”

  “But I have to leave. There’s a psycho out there, threatening you, and I’m supposed to leave you here for the next two months alone. This just doesn’t feel right.”

  “It’s your job, and I knew you would be gone a lot.”

  “Come with me, Emmy.”

  “You don’t need me around. This is your chance to spend time with Jace. The world thinks you have a fiancée. Use the time in a faraway land to be with the one you love. Along with filming, you’ll be in the middle of negotiations, so you don’t need any distractions. It’s the perfect reason for your manager to travel with you, and I have to go back home to Eastlyn for the store opening and Thanksgiving. Don’t give me a second thought.”

  “Emmy, this feels so wrong.”

  “Well, it is what it is, and you’re leaving me with a couple of big, strong studs. I think I’ll be just fine.”

  “How can you think about men at a time like this?” he asks incredulously.

  “Gimme a break. Are you really gonna sit there and try to tell me you didn’t notice all the hotness in the room? And I’m not referring to you or Jace. You’d have to be blind not to notice.”

  Josh and Jace are quite the couple. Josh is tall and lean with his light brown hair and megawatt smile. Jace is several inches shorter than Josh but still fit and adorable with his olive complexion and chocolate waves tamed with a tight haircut.

  “That big one, the boss man? I thought his biceps were gonna rip right through the arms of his suit,” Josh admits quietly.

  “Uh-huh. That’s what I thought. It’s a good thing he’s staying home with me. Otherwise, he may be the cause of some drama for you and Jace.”

  He looks at me sweetly. “Thank you, Em. I know what you’re giving up to help me, and I’ll never be able to thank you enough. Jace and I both appreciate you more than you know.”

  “Stop it. This is what friends do,” I say, getting up from my chair, indicating I’m done and don’t want to be thanked yet again.

  “I’d say you’re going above and beyond the terms and conditions of most friendships.”

  When we walk into the kitchen, Reeves and the bodyguard I’m calling Smith the Surfer in my head are in deep discussion. They both go mute when we enter, and I’m surprised to find myself feeling a pang of disappointment that the brawny, brooding one Josh called boss man is nowhere to be found. I miss him and all of his teeny tiny scars already.

  Oh, this is bad.

  Very, very bad.

  Chapter 3

  “Thank you, Hopper,” I say just as formally as I have every other time I’ve spoken to the stone-cold, ice in his veins bodyguard.

  It’s been fourteen days since I first laid eyes on the stiff-backed man driving me to my yoga class today. Of those fourteen days, I have seen him ten. Yes, I know the number of days because on the weekends when he wasn’t taking up residence at the kitchen island, I walked around with a pit of despair in my stomach.

  It’s not rational, but it’s the truth.

  On a couple of days, he’s spent the afternoon in the security room, but just knowing he’s in the house makes my day better.

  We have yet to have an actual conversation. Not for my lack of trying. He really doesn’t seem interested in talking or me for that matter. Nonetheless, he is all I think about.

  When we’re out, he’s always dressed to match my day's activity, and he is sure to be found standing with his feet shoulder-width apart, and his huge arms in front of him with his hands clasped. It’s as though his life’s goal is to become one with the wall or wherever he’s standing so he can disappear and never be seen again. I know it’s his job not to draw attention, but he doesn’t appear to be much of a people person either.

  Josh left a little over a week ago, and for the most part, I’ve stayed in and kept myself busy with work. I’ve gone on a couple of walks in the evening, but Smith was with me then. Smith isn’t as bulky as Hopper, but he too is professional. Thank goodness, he’s relaxed a little bit and will carry on a conversation with me since Josh left town. Hopper, not so much.

  Today is my first outing with just Hopper and me alone in the car. And nothing has changed. He called me ma’am when he opened the back door for me, and then he got in the car and started driving.

  No talking.

  Just driving.

  I took advantage of my ten seconds alone to watch him walk around the front of the sleek black Audi SUV. He’s just so damn hot. And big. Not big like he does steroids, but big like he was born that way, and he lifts weights to accentuate what the good Lord gave him.

  What I wouldn’t give for him to glance at me in the rearview mirror. But nope, it is very clear that I am his client. And his engaged client, at that. I know he knows the details of our situation and that the term engaged should be used loosely, but we have never spoken about it.

  Of course we haven’t. That would entail a conversation with my day shift babysitter. Smith, my night shift babysitter, is much more congenial, but he doesn’t twist my insides into knots like Hopper does.

  I try to remember if he had an accent the day he spoke at the meeting. Maybe that’s why he rarely speaks. Maybe English isn’t his first language? There was so much going on in my head that day, and I can’t remember. I do remember every detail of his face, but not whether or not he had a hint of an accent.

  After ten minutes of awkward silence, he pulls the SUV up to the curb in front of the yoga studio where I’m meeting pop icon and now my friend, Nicolette Gwen. She’s the only new friend I’ve really made since becoming a part of Josh’s life, and she’s decided to take me under her wing for some odd reason. It doesn’t get any bigger or better than Nicolette. Or, as I now call her, Nikki.

  Hopper gets out of the SUV, and before he opens my back door, he lifts his glasses up on top of his head and takes a look inside the studio. I guess he’s making sure things are on the up and up. Once he deems the studio worthy, he heads to the car. Thank goodness because I was feeling really awkward, wondering if I should let myself out or wait for him. I really don’t know how to handle this whole driver thing yet.

  The door opens, and I step down onto the sidewalk, putting myself directly in front of my giant protector. I’m fairly tall for a woman at five feet nine inches, but I feel like one of Snow White’s roommates standing next to him. When I lift my eyes to say thank you, his eyes that I now see are a hazel mixture of golds and greens have locked on to mine, and all the air is knocked from my lungs. My heart is pounding, and as labored as my breath is, you’d think I had already done an hour’s worth of yoga.

  “Ma’am,” he says, his face giving nothing away, but his eyes...his eyes are searching for something in mine.

  Whoa.

  Still, he only speaks a single word, but I feel it deep down inside.

  I know our gaze only locks for a second or two, but it feels as though we’ve been standing on the sidewalk staring at each other for a lifetime.

  He’s the one to break the spell when he shuts my door and starts walking toward the entrance to the yoga studio. He’s dressed casually today in jeans and a plain white T-shirt. His olive skin stands outs, and up this close, I can see that his barely-there haircut has recently been shorn to perfection.

  Catching my reflection in the window, I look small next to him. I’m no waif. I have curves, and there is certainly a bit of a bubble to the butt filling my yoga pants, but with his reflection next to mine, I look tiny. Tiny is certainly not a word that has ever been used to describe me, but I feel comfortable in my own skin and have never felt the need to change anything about myself. Well, maybe my hair. I do change that regularly. At the moment, it’s an auburn red and up in a ponytail.

  Hopper reaches for the door, and I see him notice me wat
ching us in the window.

  Crap!

  How embarrassing is that?

  Of course, he doesn’t utter a word or give any hint of emotion. Instead, he simply opens the door for me to walk through.

  I’m just about to the front desk to check in when the door that just clicked closed reopens, and Nikki announces her arrival.

  “There she is! The girl Hollywood is buzzing about.” Her arms are open wide, and her smile is infectious. “Get over here and give me a hug. I haven’t seen you since Vegas. Texts are not enough!”

  “It’s great to see you. Thanks so much for getting me out of the house,” I say while being wrapped up in a great big bear hug from the tiny blond waif of a woman.

  “Darlin’, if you bring eye candy like this with you, I’ll be sure to get you out of the house more often,” she whispers in my ear, and I giggle in return, unable to control the itty-bitty twinge of jealousy that bites at me unexpectedly. I mean, who would look at me when there’s an icon in nothing but a sports bra and yoga shorts standing next to me? Not sure it’s possible, but she looks even better in person.

  Her bodyguard is here as well, but he’s not nearly as attractive as Hopper, and he’s already up at the front desk chatting with the receptionist.

  Doing what I assume is the polite thing, I introduce her to Hopper. He extends a hand to Nikki, and once again, that little green monster tries to reach the surface. I’ve never even gotten to shake his hand, and that hardly seems fair. Not one little bit.

  Nikki happily takes his hand, and says, “You can relax, you know. I rent the place out for one-on-one training. Nobody’s here but the four of us and the trainer. Well, and I guess the receptionist. There isn’t anybody here to kill. Just stay up here with Mark, and I promise to take good care of her.”

  He nods, but his eyes lock on mine as if to ask if I’m okay with this. I nod back, letting him know it’s cool. After holding my gaze one quick second, he moves toward the door and leans against the wall next to it. Back straight. Hands clasped in front of him.