“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. My soon-to-be-ex and I are both much happier. And I’m thinking about opening a range in Maui soon.”
“When did you move here?”
“I really haven’t yet, but I think I’m going to.”
A little furrow appears between her brows. “Maybe I should consider a move, too. I can’t go back to LA. And I won’t go to New York, where I grew up. My father still lives there. I don’t need his meddling. Hell”—she tosses her hands in the air—“maybe I’ll stay here, too. My brother, Stephen, just relocated to the island for his wife, Skye.”
“You two close?”
“Yeah. He’s always been there for me, especially when my dad wasn’t.”
“Did your dad travel a lot or something when you were a kid?”
I should stop asking irrelevant personal questions. It’s none of my business, and has no bearing on how I protect Amanda. But they keep slipping out of my mouth. I can’t deny I’m curious.
“I suppose, but that wasn’t really the problem. He can be a real bastard, which is probably why he and Barclay were friends. Stephen assures me Dad has mellowed with age. Maybe.” She shrugs. “Anyway, while we’re together, I was hoping you could teach me to shoot. I’ll pay you.”
“Sure.”
“If it wasn’t clear, I’ll pay you for all your time.”
“I appreciate that, but I can only stay a few days.”
Amanda shakes her head, and it’s impossible not to notice the way her pale waves skim over breasts that I’d bet a hundred bucks aren’t restrained by a bra.
“Then you should go. I need someone who’s willing to commit a bit longer.”
Maybe so, but… “Who else are you going to find at barely six a.m. on a Sunday morning?”
“I don’t know, but I need someone for more than a day or two.”
“And I need a steady, long-term job. You’re going to want someone with more experience, anyway. But I’ll be here until we can find you that guy.”
“Fine.” She doesn’t sound happy about it. “How much would it take to entice you to stay for the week?”
“We’ll work it out.” Normally, I wouldn’t let a negotiation go. It’s stupid and irresponsible to agree to work before coming to financial terms, but Amanda, despite holding her own and standing up for herself, looks exhausted. And I feel like shit for wondering what she looks like under those pajamas. Even now, I’m picturing her. I have no doubt her body would both take my breath away and kick my libido into overdrive.
Stop being a lech, dude. Do your job.
“Why don’t you go back to sleep while Oliver seems to be out?” I suggest. “That will give me time to figure out where I can take you that’s safe.”
She shakes her head. “I’ll need to pack and find a crib or playpen for my son. I can’t take Nia’s. She’ll need it soon.”
Probably not in the next few days, but I sense Amanda hates imposing on anyone, even her own family.
“All right, if you change your mind…”
“I won’t. Coffee?”
“Sure. Black, please. I’m going to walk the perimeter and find Trace.”
She nods my way, then shoulders past me and pads down the hall. I try not to notice that the top of her head only reaches my shoulder or that she’s got a lush, round ass, visible even under the too-big pajama pants. I definitely try to ignore my ill-timed erection.
Note to self: Find someone else to bodyguard her ASAP. She’s a distraction I don’t need.
Easier said than done. Who the fuck else do I know on Maui? I’ve only been here eight days.
Cursing under my breath, I head out the back of the house, glimpse more evidence of the angry crowd, then head for Trace. He’s still talking to Harlow and Nia when I stroll up.
“How did it go with Amanda?”
“Fine.” What else am I supposed to say? Why didn’t you tell me she’s so gorgeous it would fuck with my head?
“Good.” Trace nods. “I’ve been giving the safe house situation some thought. I have an idea, but I need to talk to someone. Give me a couple of hours?”
“Sure.” I figure no one will come back in broad daylight. Bitching mobs are usually made up of cowards who prefer to slink under the cover of dark. “We just need to get out of here before sundown.”
Trace grimaces. “You think that’s soon enough? The guy who broke into the house last night—”
“What?” That’s the first I’m hearing of an intruder.
“Yeah.”
Nia adds her two cents. “He cornered Amanda in the hall and threatened her. He had a knife. If she hadn’t—”
“Knife? Fuck! We need to leave—now.”
“And go where?” Trace asks.
No idea. “I’ll think of something.” I turn to Nia. “I need a connection for a crib or playpen. She won’t take yours.”
“I figured. I’ll make some phone calls. I think Griff and Britta have a spare.”
No idea who they are, and right now, I don’t care. “Thanks. One of you let me know when you have some information.”
“Sure.” Trace nods.
I’m barely listening as I haul ass back inside. Amanda shouldn’t be alone right now. Neither should Oliver, not until the threat is behind bars.
I find Amanda in the kitchen, watching the drip of the coffeemaker. “You didn’t tell me there was an intruder.”
She raises her brows at my accusing tone. “You didn’t ask. Besides, I handled him with a swift kick to the balls and a vase over the head.”
This little thing took on someone unhinged enough to break in with a knife and the intent to kill? “You what?”
“Yes. What was I supposed to do?” She cocks a hand on her hip. “I wasn’t letting him anywhere near my son.”
I’m both horrified and impressed. “Call 911 before they’re in your face.”
Amanda shakes her head. “Even if I had, the police would have come too late.”
I see her point…I just don’t like it. “You don’t have to worry about that anymore. I’m here. Get your stuff. We’re going.”
“But Oliver—”
“Can sleep later. Get it. I’ll stand over you until
