Rogue Beast (The Rourkes #12) - Kylie Gilmore Page 0,2
some more. Then you just push them in here. See the predrilled holes?” He points to them in the cabinet.
I peer around him. “Yes.”
“You just pop those babies in there. Here, I’ll put your stuff back.” He gestures for the cups and Ziploc bag I’m still holding. I stare at him, surprised by Mr. Fix-It. Not only is he gorgeous, he’s so helpful and genuinely nice. I really expected more of a killer instinct from a bodyguard.
I hand him the stuff, and he tucks it back exactly as I had it. “Thank you.”
“No problem. Anything else need fixing around here?”
I blink. My new bodyguard could be my handyman too. I’d never have to let a strange man into my apartment or trailer again. So awesome. Then I remember myself. We’re supposed to be getting the awkwardness out of the way—my awkwardness—by having a professional conversation, client to bodyguard. “That’s all, thanks.” I gesture toward my sofa. “Have a seat.”
He ambles over to the sofa with a relaxed stride. Wish I could be that relaxed. I’m usually a little high-strung before a taping, but this is also an unusual situation for me, working with my first bodyguard. Though I have to admit he’s not at all like I expected. I thought he’d be this tough scary man who would take some time for me to get comfortable having around. He’s not giving off any scary vibes at all.
I like him already.
I take the seat next to him, crossing one leg over the other. He’s drinking water again, his Adam’s apple going up and down hypnotically. Stop staring!
I focus on his eyebrow, avoiding getting lost in his aquamarine eyes again. “So, I’m not sure if Trina clued you in, but this is my first time having a bodyguard. Please bear with me as I get used to having a shadow. I know for sure I want you on set when we bring in the live studio audience on Fridays. We’ve got nine more weeks of taping, and then I’m not sure where I’ll be after that. A lot depends on if the show gets picked up for another season as far as what future roles I can take. But if we both feel it’s working, I wonder if you’d be open to travel?”
He rubs the back of his neck. “Hafta think about that one.”
I hold up a palm. “Sorry. I’m rushing ahead. We’ll play it by ear. You stick close on taping day and accompany me to and from work. I know I’ll sleep better at night knowing you’re next door.” I recently bought the next-door apartment with the intention of knocking down the separating wall to expand my own, so it worked out well to have the nearby space.
His lips curve into a small smile, and my pulse thrums through me. “Sounds like we’ll be spending a lot of time together. It’s good to get to know each other. Gotta say, you don’t sound as tough as you do on TV.” Living Gold hasn’t aired yet, so he’s referring to my CEO character.
I try to keep the irritation from my voice. “That’s because Amanda Boxer was a character I played, not me.” I don’t know why people don’t get that.
He leans close. “It makes me realize what a great actor you are.”
“Oh.” I run my finger along the seam of the sofa cushion, staring at it. I’m not great with compliments, having received so few growing up. General Joan did not coddle.
He leans back on the sofa and continues, “You seem sweet in real life.”
“Well, sweet doesn’t help in a fight.”
He grins, his aquamarine eyes twinkling. My stomach does another crazy flip. “Probably not, but I like it.”
My cheeks heat, my heart kicks hard, and my brain completely checks out on me. I’m all discombobulated with the compliments and the sexiness. Professional. Keep it professional.
“You’re exactly as I hoped,” I say. Except gorgeous. I should’ve been more careful with my list of bodyguard requirements and requested a nongorgeous type.
He cocks his head. “How am I what you hoped?”
I gesture with both hands around his massive shoulders and biceps. “Jacked.”
“Funny. Jack is my brother.”
I laugh a little. “I meant—”
“I know what you meant. I like to keep fit in my line of work. Prevents injuries.”
I nod. “Makes perfect sense. I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable, talking about your muscles.” My cheeks flame. God, Harper, could you be a worse boss, ogling your new employee?