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

  Once the car is parked in the driveway, I can’t get out of the damn thing fast enough. I run to the back to get my bags, and he’s already there, as are Smith and a new guy. The new guy is older, shorter, rounder...let’s just say maybe it would have been better if he had been assigned as my principal handler. I might not be so distracted or feeling whatever it is I feel when my current handler is around.

  “They’ve got our bags. We can go ahead and go in.”

  “Okay, but first, I’d like to meet our new addition. Hi, I’m Emmett.”

  “Miss Ford, this is Cleveland.”

  Taking my offered hand, our new addition smiles.

  “Nice to meet you, Cleveland.”

  “Shall we?” Max asks, annoyed for some reason.

  “Geesh, don’t you have any manners?”

  As we cross the driveway, uneasiness washes over me. I can’t imagine what it must look like to my neighbors to see me walking around with three large men. Max is in front of me, and I thought the other two were behind me, but Smith is gone, and it’s only Cleveland there when we reach my sweet little doormat that says “Be Happy” in the bottom right corner. Seeing it puts a smile on my face and some breath in my lungs. Who knew a welcome mat could have such a calming effect?

  “Smith went around back, and I’m going to go in first. Please wait here with Cleveland.”

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  His face says “do you even need to ask” for a brief second before he turns on his heels and walks away to clear my tiny little house.

  Cleveland closes the door behind us, leaving us to stand awkwardly in the entry to my living room, my bags in his hands.

  “So, I am assuming Cleveland is your last name?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Cleveland seems sweet. He isn’t strung quite as tight as the rest of the team. And for the brief time I’ve known him, there has been a small smile on his face. He’s confident. I like him already.

  “Please ignore your co-workers and call me Emmett, if you like.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Ugh.

  The house is a small 1960s era ranch-style home, so it doesn’t take long before Max is back, giving me the all clear.

  He stands to the side, letting me continue into my own home.

  How kind of him.

  Walking into my living room, I have two men following behind me and one standing at my back door.

  How did this become my life?

  “I’ll be back with the last of the bags.”

  “Thank you, Smith.”

  I throw my purse on the beautiful farm style kitchen table I purchased with my first bonus after my promotion into management. Big and bold, even if it only seats six with the leaf in it, white legs, and a weathered light blue top. It still makes me smile.

  Out of habit, I open the fridge to see what’s there. Not much.

  “Gentlemen, would you like some ketchup, mustard, baking soda, or tap water?”

  “Trying to cut back on my condiment intake, but thank you for asking,” Max jokes, bringing back some of the natural ease we had on the plane.

  The ease that had him placing his hand on the small of my back as we walked through the plane door onto the stairs that led us to the tarmac and our waiting vehicle. I thought about those two seconds the entire drive home.

  Smith returns with the bags, and it hits me that I don’t have room for all of them.

  “Guys, I am so sorry. I only have two spare bedrooms, but I can make up the couch. You’ll have to draw straws, though. I don’t want to decide who gets stuck out here.”

  “Smith and Cleveland just came out to prepare for your arrival and will be taking some time off after your event. They’ll be heading home for Thanksgiving.”

  “Prepare for my arrival? Good grief, what are you guys, the Secret Service? I’m not the president or a member of the royal family. I think we may be going a little overboard with all of this, don’t you think?”

  “It’s protocol.”

  “Whatever you say. I’m going to go unpack, but I am happy to hear you two will get to be home for the holiday.”

  Once I’m alone in my bedroom, I throw myself on my bed already exhausted from the anxiety of the lies I know I’m going to have to tell while I’m home. After years of burning vanilla candles and applying vanilla lotion each night before bed, the smell of my room grounds me while the shades of blue decorating the room, and the softness of my old comforter cocoon me. The space is small, but it’s mine.

  Josh’s house in the Hollywood Hills still doesn’t feel like home, but there is one thing positive about being in Los Angeles. It doesn’t include the people closest to me, which means I’m not lying to the people I love on a daily basis. At least not to their faces. That is the one and only thing I like about being in Los Angeles. Well, that and Max.

  In California, Max is one of my constant, yet usually silent, companions, and having him here in my small home feels personal. Intimate. Seeing his imposing frame in the middle of my living room a few minutes ago made the house feel tiny. He not only takes up a tremendous amount of space but most of the oxygen as well. I know this because I have a hard time getting in more than is essential for life when I’m in close quarters with him.

  My mind is spending far too much time on my personal protection than I have time for. I’m home for a reason, and there is a lot to do. Not to mention, I haven’t even called the girls yet.

  Forcing myself off the bed I miss more than I should, considering I’ve had this mattress my entire adult life… In fact, I should probably replace it. At Josh’s place, I live in the lap of luxury and sleep on a bed that costs—I don’t even want to know what it costs. But I’ll take this tiny bedroom with no master suite any day.

  Shit.

  I’m gonna have to share a bathroom with Max. My mind spins with all the ways I could accidentally walk in on him when he’s in the shower. Or maybe even better, just after I hear the water stop and he’s drying off.

  Stop!

  Get a grip, Emmett!

  You do not get to fantasize about your bodyguard. You are not only his client, but you’re supposed to be engaged!

  The reality that I’m not going to have sex for two years finally sank in after Max placed his hand on my low back. That was all it took. A touch.

  Max is always there, and therefore, the one you are hot for.

  It’s not real, so get over it!

  Right, okay. Internal chastising over, so let’s get moving.

  While I unpack, I call Amelia and Mason to let them know I’m here and that I’ll see them at Just One More Chapter in a couple of hours.

  Unpacked, the girls called, and I have no reason to hide in my room anymore. It’s time to go do what I do. Be awkward around Max. I’ve perfected this daily occurrence, not sure why things feel that much more awkward just because I’m home.

  Thank goodness I need to head to the store for groceries. I’ll need the alone time to clear my head. With the knowledge I’ll get a break from him, I pull open my bedroom door and brave the hallway.

  I may not have a kitchen island, but I do have a kitchen table, and not surprisingly, this is where he has set up shop. Laptop open and glasses on, he’s working away when I round the corner into the kitchen. Damn, those glasses of his make me all warm and fuzzy inside and not in the oh what a cute puppy kind of way.

  Why does he have to be so freaking hot? And big? No matter what room he’s in, he seems to take up all the space.

  Taking my car keys off the hook on the kitchen wall, I try to be as nonchalant as I can in the hopes I’ll get to make this trip to the store alone.

  “Hey, I’m gonna head to the store to pick up a few things so we have something besides condiments to eat. I should only be gone about thirty minutes.” He makes to stand, like he’s coming with me. “Nope, I got this, Hopper. This is my home, my people. I’m safe here.”

  “I’ll drive. No need for your keys.”


  “No. You’ll only draw attention.”

  “Miss Ford, I’m sorry, but this is the way it has to be.”

  “Ugh, fine, but I’m sitting in the front again. In fact, let’s just plan on that while we’re here in Eastlyn. No chauffeuring me around, it’s embarrassing.”

  The drive to the store is too quiet for my liking. Even though it’s only a few minutes away, it’s too much for me to take. I plug the aux cord into my phone and hit play. When he smiles and taps his finger on the steering wheel, I know I’ve chosen the right 90s hip-hop song.

  Dr. Dre and Snoop Dog get us to the store without the usual stuffiness that engulfs us in California. Between the formalities and the smog, breathing a full breath is hard to do some days.

  Eastlyn has a couple of small corner stores, but Hooley’s Supermarket is our one and only full-service grocery store. Owned by the Hooley family and passed down for generations, it’s an Eastlyn landmark. Everyone knows everyone here, so when I walk in with the equivalent to the Jolly Green Giant trailing me, we certainly get some funny looks. The women who say hello give my shadow wide-eyed looks that ask if he’s real. And the men look him up and down, skeptical of the new stranger in town.

  I introduce him as Max and simply say he works for Josh and leave it at that. Back in produce, I’m bagging up all the fixins for a kick-ass salad, a little more than usual since I have to feed Max too, when I realize I don’t know what he likes.

  “You like salad?”

  “Sure. Who doesn’t?”

  “Well, a man your size has to eat more than salad. Any special requests? I’m not too shabby in the kitchen.”

  “Don’t worry about me; I can make do with anything.”

  “Oh, come on. There has to be something I can make you, or that we can get to have around the house for you.”

  “I mean, if they have protein shakes, some frozen berries, and kale, and anything else I can throw in the blender or juicer, I can always make myself some green juice smoothies in the morning.”

  “Why does that not surprise me?”

  “What? You asked. I answered.”

  “Yes, you did. I’m just not used to the men in my life being so easy.”

  “I’m a simple man. It doesn’t take much to make me happy, I guess.”

  “I have a feeling you are far from simple, but yes, in the grocery department you seem to be.”

  “I try.”

  “Hopper?” I say stopping his progress down the aisle with the cart.

  “Miss Ford?”

  “When do you ever get a moment to yourself? Your entire life is based around my schedule and where I need to go. Where and when I want to eat. There has to be a part of you that resents me just a little bit. I mean, you’re going to miss Thanksgiving with your family. They must hate me.”

  “Well, it is my job. I knew what I was signing up for.”

  How does he always seem to answer a question without ever really answering the question? I have no idea how he feels about much of anything. I know the facts but have no idea how he feels.

  “You don’t even get all of your weekends because if I have something going on for some reason, you have to be there even if it’s your day off. When do you get time off?”

  “I’ll take a couple of days once we’re back in LA,” he says, putting a Hermiston watermelon in the cart.

  “You know we’re famous for those in these parts.”

  “So, I’ve heard. Figured I should try one for myself.”

  “Well, it’s a little out of season, that’s why they’re so small, but it will still be the best watermelon you’ve ever tasted.”

  “I can’t wait,” he says with a wink.

  Be still my beating heart.

  Once the groceries were put away, and we each ate our made to order deli sandwiches I was too excited to wait around the house, so we left for the bookstore a little early.

  My chin nearly hit the ground when we pulled up. Seeing the store awning with Just One More Chapter adorned on it, and our beautiful logo come to life in the front window had my eyes welling up with tears. Walking in to find Miles and Mason already there and hard at work was all that was needed to push the tears down my cheeks.

  “Well, look who’s here! Get over here, girl!” Miles has me off my feet in one of his awesome bear hugs before I’m two feet in the door. “Sure is good to see you, Emmy. I know it hasn’t been that long, but it feels like forever. So much has happened,” he says, putting me back on my feet.

  “You’re telling me? I leave town for a couple of months, and the next thing I know, you’re getting hitched!”

  Mason flashes her hand between us, and there’s the proof. Our small-town playboy is off the market, and he couldn’t be happier about it. The moment he laid eyes on her, he was a goner. He knew in that instant. Just the thought of it makes me all mushy inside.

  “Wow, it’s even prettier in person. Well done, Montgomery.”

  “I wouldn’t have cared if it was a ring out of a Cracker Jack box, but this one is pretty nice.” The beauty, who could be the model for our logo, sighs herself. Her honey-blond hair is up in a high ponytail, and with her glasses on all she needs is a steaming cup and a book in front of her, and she’s the girl on our window.

  As they do, Miles and Mason get lost in each other’s eyes for a noticeable beat, and I let them have it. She snaps out of it, quickly wrapping her arms around me.

  “I’m so glad you’re here! It all feels real now that you’re actually standing here with me.” She pulls back and mouths, who’s that?

  So lost in the moment I had forgotten about Max.

  “Oh, um...guys, this is Max Hopper, he works for Josh. Max Hopper, this is Miles and Mason and yes, they’re on the list.”

  Shocker, Max nods his hello and leaves it at that standing near the door with his hands in front of him as per usual.

  “Nice to meet you, Max. What exactly do you do for Josh?” Miles asks arms crossed over his puffed-up chest.

  Always the protector.

  “Max, is my um...bodyguard.”

  “Personal protection associate,” Max says quietly from behind me.

  Huh? That’s new.

  “Okay, I guess I mean personal protection associate.”

  Mason takes in a breath. “Why do you need a personal protection associate?”

  “That’s a very good question, Emmett.” Miles is speaking to me, but he hasn’t moved an inch and is still staring at Max. “Why do you need a bodyguard?”

  “Well, there have been some threats since things with Josh and I have become a bit more public. It’s no big deal, though.”

  This gets his attention. Unfortunately for me, not the kind of attention I want.

  “And why didn’t you tell us about these threats. You’re on the phone with Mason every day.”

  His tan face turns a crimson color I don’t see on him too often.

  “Because, as I said, it’s no big deal. Josh is just being overprotective.”

  Usually annoyed by Max’s stoic silence, tonight I’m glad he’s a man of few words. There’s no need for him to share the gory details.

  “Listen, it’s nothing for you to worry about. Just consider us lucky to have an extra pair of hands. You don’t mind helping us set up, do you?”

  As I ask the question and he shakes his head to say he doesn’t mind, I realize this isn’t a part of the gig. He isn’t here to unload boxes and lift heavy things. I’m sure it’s on his It’s Not My Job list.

  “Emmy.”

  “Miles.”

  “You really aren’t going to tell me what’s going on?”

  “There’s nothing going on. Now, where do you want me, Mason?”

  “You know I can call Josh and ask him myself.”

  “Good luck with that. He’s pretty busy filming.”

  “Well, since it seems as though you aren’t going to give me the full story, I’ll just have to bug him until he answers. And he will answer me.”


  “Cool, sounds like a plan.”

  I walk around Miles over to Max, who appears to be holding up the wall next to the entrance. I’m sorry, I mouth to him. The corners of his mouth lift, and he gives me a barely noticeable wink telling me it’s okay, while setting me on fire.

  That’s two winks.

  One more and I may just mount him right here and now.

  “Come on, I’m sure there are some heavy boxes for me to lift.”

  “Sure are, and I wouldn’t mind the help,” Miles pipes in. “We’ve got dozens more boxes out back if you wanna help me bring them in?”

  “Lead the way,” Max says, and they disappear through the back of the store.

  “Oh, my gosh, Mason! Everything looks so great! Show me everything! Did the leather chairs come in? How about the bookmarks? Did I order enough, or are the shelves going to look empty? Please give me a quick tour, and I promise I’ll get to work. Your video tours are great, but I’m here, and I want to touch it all!”

  Laughing, Mason lifts an eyebrow that is on the same level as my mom when she thinks I’m lying to her.

  “What?” I sound confused because I am.

  “What do you mean, what? Your bodyguard of course.”

  “What about him?”

  “You have seen him, haven’t you?”

  “Yes. What are you getting at?” Oh man, I sure hope it isn’t obvious I have a crush on him.

  “He’s a bit distracting.”

  “Nah, I barely notice he’s there,” I lie right to her face.

  “Whatever you say, Emmett. Come on, let me show you the reading nook. The chairs work perfectly.”

  I’m so grateful she doesn’t say anything else about Max. I’m engaged, as far as everyone is concerned, and I don’t need anyone getting the wrong impression.

  Mason takes me on a quick walkthrough of the store, and while we're in the back office looking at all the swag I ordered, the guys keep passing by, each of them carrying heavy box after heavy box.

  Once all the boxes are inside, I start unloading books onto one of our many shelves of what we hope will be an extensive romance section. We vowed that our store wouldn’t be like so many others that have one tiny shelf of romance tucked into a back corner of the store. We will put our romance section out front, loud and proud!