Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 98823 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 494(@200wpm)___ 395(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98823 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 494(@200wpm)___ 395(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
“I’m not supposed to be fun,” I reminded him. I accidentally dropped my gaze to his chest again, and my dick was only too happy to volunteer a list of suggestions that would be more fun than arguing. Business. This was business. “I’m here to keep you and everyone else safe. That’s my job.”
“Yeah, well, if you could do it without making everyone miserable, that would be awesome.” Ezra shook his head like he didn’t expect his request to be granted.
“I’ll see what I can do.” I also had my doubts. I didn’t want either of us miserable but hating the next few weeks felt inevitable.
Chapter Four
Ezra
I refused to spend the remainder of my summer unhappy. Duncan might do well with tight schedules and pages of carefully outlined contracts and rules, but that wasn’t how I rolled. No matter how many alarms I set for Tuesday morning, I still ended up with my usual flurry of last-minute tasks after oversleeping. Again. Unsurprisingly, Kate and I were among the last to arrive at the private-charter air terminal while Duncan was already there waiting for us. Some of the band and crew were also already there, so I waved at them on my way over to Duncan.
Other than his muscles, which refused to be hidden, Duncan looked like some young, preppy CEO of a tech startup in perfectly pressed khaki pants, crisp pale-blue shirt, and lightweight sport coat. I’d been around enough security types to know the jacket was likely so he could pack a weapon outside of the airport, but I still had to laugh at how out of place he looked among our ragtag collection of ratty T-shirts and shorts. The band’s net worth might have skyrocketed over the years, but our tour wardrobe hadn’t changed over the last decade.
“I should have specified a dress code,” I said instead of a typical greeting.
“Oh? Something wrong?” Duncan stood as I approached. And actually, something was very right about how he filled out a sports coat, but he didn’t need to know that. The last thing I needed was to indulge my overwhelming urge to rumple him up.
“You look ready to head to a charity golf tournament, not a tour for We Wear Crowns.” Teasing him was far more comfortable than admiring his polished persona. “We’re known for fun, not golf claps and crease lines.”
“I’m not here for fun.” Duncan picked up a briefcase. Not a messenger bag or laptop case, but a legit leather briefcase, adding to his stuffy appearance. A smart pristine black rolling suitcase sat at his feet, contrasting with my battered luggage, which I’d adorned with various stickers over years of touring.
“If I didn’t know you’d been a SEAL, I’d never believe it now.” I laughed. Kate had wandered away, probably searching for coffee, and I leaned against our stacked luggage cart.
“Sorry to disappoint. You should have read the contract. The camo costs extra.’’ His voice was tumbleweed dry, but a rogue twinkle in his eyes gave him away.
“Was that a joke? Lieutenant Lubov has a sense of humor?” I chuckled from the surprise even more than the joke.
“You sound like Danny. I can laugh.”
“Uh-huh.” I had no doubt he was a capable leader, but a fun guy? No way. Danny had complained about Duncan’s allergy to fun more than a few times, and his too-serious attitude was probably part of what had kept the two of them distant for so many years.
“Ezra. There you are,” a familiar but unwanted voice called. My keeper had arrived.
Somehow, I managed to suppress a groan as I turned around, plastering on a smile to make introductions.
“Ilene. This is Duncan, my new security chief.” I gestured in his direction. “Duncan, Ilene is my contact at the label and the one who arranged this flight for us.”
“Thank you.” Duncan was all charm as he shook her hand. Ilene was the only one with Duncan’s style level, wearing a tight pencil skirt, coordinating coral summery blouse, and designer heels the same shade as her gold-streaked hair. She was older than Duncan and me, probably in her late thirties or early forties, but that didn’t stop her from giving him a blatantly appreciative once-over.
“My pleasure.” Her perfectly glossed lips curved into a practiced smile for Duncan before frowning as she turned back to me. “But, Ezra, I did tell you the label wanted to vet whomever you brought on board.”
“I sent an email with his name.” I hoped I managed to sound bored, not petulant like the kid she always wanted to treat me as. Most people these days were only too happy to treat me as an adult, but not Ilene.
“Twenty-three minutes ago, yes, in response to my third request.” Ilene gave me a pointed look. Rather deliberately, I’d waited until we were headed to the airport to send Duncan’s details to the label. I’d told her I had security handled on Sunday, which should have been enough, but predictably, it wasn’t. The label was still in damage-control mode, and I didn’t doubt for a minute that this private flight was nothing other than an excuse to keep me caged for a four-hour lecture. Predictably, Ilene tapped her toe. “And all I could find is a bare-bones website. No offense.”