sure she always looks this way: happy and content.
“She’s amazing, isn’t she?”
I turn to the side when I hear a soft, feminine voice with a thick southern twang speaking close to me. It’s a woman in her mid-fifties with long, straight red hair and sparkling green eyes. The freckles that spread over her nose and cheeks makes her look much younger than I’m sure she is; the crow’s feet at the edges of her eyes are what gives her away. I recognize this woman. I saw her a few minutes ago at the front of Layla’s table. They both screamed in happiness and threw their arms around one another like they were long lost friends. The woman cupped Layla’s face in her hands and scrutinized her with her head tilted to the side like a mother would do when checking to see if her child is getting enough sleep or eating well.
“She is,” I answer the woman, turning my eyes back to Layla as she signs yet another poster and takes three more pictures. “How do you know her?”
The woman’s smile lights up her entire face when she looks over at Layla and answers my question.
“I’ve pretty much known her all of her life. Her father and I were…good friends. My name is June, by the way.”
She turns and holds out her hand to me and I shake it, studying her face while she continues to glance over at Layla every few seconds. I’m trying to gauge how genuine this woman really is since Layla seems to be surrounded by selfish assholes. The way she lovingly stares after Layla while she watches her work makes me quickly realize she is one of the good ones.
“It’s nice to meet you, June. I’m―”
“Brady Marshall, ex-Navy SEAL and Nashville police officer, currently hired to keep an eye on our girl over there,” June finishes for me.
I looked at her quizzically with raised eyebrows.
“Sorry. The few minutes I had with Layla at her table, I grilled her about the broody hunk standing over here staring at her every few minutes like he wanted to do naughty things to her in front of all these people.” June winks at me and smiles.
If I was a chick, I would be blushing like a fucking teenager right now. As it is, I have to look away from June and at a spot on the wall, making sure not to look at Layla or I’ll never hear the end of it.
“Anyway, I’m glad she’s got someone watching her back. That girl has had too much piled on her shoulders over the years, and she needs someone trustworthy looking out for her,” June tells me with a sigh.
“What makes you think I can be trusted?” My eyes instinctively wander over to Layla.
June lets out a small laugh, and I see her shake her head out of the corner of my eye.
“I’m good at reading people, Mr. Marshall. I’ve owned a bar for almost thirty years, and I see all sorts of people come through that door every single night. I’ve heard stories that would make your hair turn gray and your toes curl. You look like you might have a few of those stories stored up in that handsome head of yours. And you look at our girl over there like she’s the sunshine in the dark, not like she’s a meal ticket to a better life.”
I don’t reply to June’s assumptions or her assessment of me. There’s no point. Like she said, she’s good at reading people.
“Well, I need to head out and get the bar stocked for tonight. If you’re not doing anything later, you should make it a point to stop by. I’ve watched you staring after her since I got here, like you’re trying to figure out a puzzle. It’s probably not my place to say this, but I love that girl like she’s my own daughter, and I want what’s best for her. If you want to find another piece to the puzzle, it will be at the Red Door Saloon at nine tonight.”
June turns and starts walking away from me before pausing and glancing back over her shoulder at me.
“But if she sees you there and gets her britches all in a bunch, you don’t know me and we never spoke.”
She winks at me again and then saunters out the door.
I don’t know what the hell just happened, but I know one thing for sure. There is no way I’m staying away from