Jennifer Morey - Colton Family Bodyguard

Hazel had told him she was a chef on the way to the Dales Inn but not much else. Leaving the chair, she went around the island and began going through the cabinets. The kitchen was fully stocked with all the equipment she would need. “The only things missing are food and spices.”

“Make a list and I’ll have that delivered in the morning.”

With the snap of a finger he’d do that? “Then I’ll pay you.”

“No, you won’t. I want you to relax and have as much semblance of your normal routine as possible. Don’t worry about anything other than doing your job and taking care of Evie. I’ll do the rest.”

Finished checking out the kitchen, seeing it had pretty much everything, she walked to the impressive windows. Mustang Valley looked bigger than she had always thought of it from here.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked.

She heard him walk up behind her and stop beside her. “I was there when the man tried to run you over.”

He had already indicated as much, but she wanted to know why he was here with her. Why had he offered his services, free of charge?

“Why this?” She turned as she swept her arm out into the room, facing him. “Why is it so important for you to help us?”

She met his incredibly blue eyes while he considered his reply.

“I don’t know,” he finally said. “When I first saw you, I had no intention of going out to meet you, but then I saw that car with the driver and instincts kicked in. This is what I do, Hazel.”

That sounded truthful enough. Why, then, did she have this feeling that it was more personal than that?

“Kerry called. She lost the white car,” Callum said, pulling her thoughts elsewhere. “She said the driver must know the town well. Otherwise he might not have gotten away as easily as he did.”

Hazel bit her lower lip in consternation. The killer had gotten away. Where was he now? Lurking outside? Did he already know they were here? Picturing Evie’s sweet sleeping face, she released her lip with a long sigh. If the killer knew the town well, he’d know the Dales Inn was the only hotel in Mustang Valley.

Feeling as though someone could see them through the windows, she went to stand by the dining table.

Callum went to the other side. “I sleep light, so don’t worry. And if you have any lingering doubt as to why I’m doing this, now you shouldn’t. I couldn’t leave a dog in danger like this.”

She believed that his work was second nature to him, but she still thought there was more to him than that, more that drew him to her and Evie, maybe even something he hadn’t acknowledged himself. Yet.

Looking down at all the items on the table, she pointed to the vests. “I take it we’re going to be wearing those?”

“Whenever we leave the inn. They’re knife-and bulletproof and made with poly-cotton netting that breathes to keep you cool or warm, depending on the weather. You can wear them underneath your clothes. They’re comfortable.”

Very high tech. And she would feel so much better knowing Evie would be protected as best as she could.

“What will you do with the USB drives?” she asked.

“Some are listening devices, others are cameras. One is for deleted file recovery.” He gestured to the USB devices. “We’ll put a GPS in your car, purse and Evie’s backpack. They all have extended battery life.”

Hazel couldn’t bear to think she or Evie might be abducted, but Callum would know where they were if it happened. He wasn’t taking any chances. She couldn’t imagine they would need to recover any deleted files in order to find the killer. Maybe that was another precautionary measure Callum had taken.

“I’ve got some night vision goggles and extra guns and ammo in the bag. I’ll keep those in a safe place.”

Out of Evie’s curious hands. That was comforting. Hazel met his eyes, thinking she could never get tired of doing so. She could stare at them for an hour and float on a cloud of infatuation. How many other handsome men had she seen and not had such a strong reaction? She had been quite attracted to Ed, but she had never felt this way with him. Callum might be ruggedly gorgeous but Hazel didn’t think he’d be a good match for her.

What made a good match? She did not know him at all, at least, not very well. He physically attracted her. What would she do with that? What if she had no control over what was between them?

Why are you doing this?

Why is it so important for you to help us?

Those two questions that Hazel had asked kept repeating in his mind and he couldn’t shut off the voice. He was tired of hearing it. Mostly he was tired of wondering why and feeling somewhere deep inside that he already knew the answers.

He opened the drawer of the built-in desk next to the kitchen, looking for a notepad and pen. Hazel had gone to sit on the sectional. It was getting late but she needed to give him a list of kitchen necessaries so he could have everything she needed by morning.

He had been truthful when he had told her instinct had taken over. Instinct had made him walk across the street to check on the mysterious car. He hadn’t really thought much beyond that, but now here he was, guarding a woman and her child.

Finding a notepad and pen, he brought it to Hazel and sat beside her. “Here you go. Make your list.”

She tapped the pen lightly against her lower lip awhile before finally beginning to write down ingredients.

Callum studied her profile, sloping nose and full lips. Long lashes low over hazel-green eyes. He let his gaze travel lower, noticing a button on her white blouse had come loose and exposed more of her cleavage. She was a stunning woman.

He turned his attention to her growing list.

“Do you have regulars?”

“Yes. I’m a personal chef,” she answered without pausing in her writing.

Leaning over he started reading the list. “Are the ingredients all meat and potatoes?”

Smiling she slid a glance toward him. “No. Some are chicken and mashed potatoes.”

He chuckled. “I could do that job.”

“I also have clients who want things like shrimp and scallop scampi. Roasted chicken au jus. Seafood-stuffed salmon. Steak. Lobster. Vegetable dishes. Fruit.”

He would like to try a few of her concoctions. But since he barely knew her, he didn’t mention it.

“What made you decide to become a chef?” he asked.

She smiled softly. “My mother cooked all the time. I grew up with delicious smells wafting from the kitchen.”

“You never told me about your family. You know all about mine and I know nothing about yours.” That wasn’t fair. He felt safe asking her, not too personal.

“Not much to tell,” she said. “My parents are both from Pagosa Springs, Colorado. They knew each other in high school but didn’t get together until after college. My brother is a cop and lives in Phoenix with his wife’s family.”

“I’m sure there is more to tell than that.”

She smiled in that soft way again. “Are you looking for drama?”

“You did say every family has it.” He was starting to love this banter.

She laughed once. “Um...let’s see...well, there was the time when my brother skipped school to smoke pot with his friends. My parents flipped. They were afraid he would drop out of school or be kicked out and his whole future would be in ruins. But it turned out he just went through a phase. He rebelled for a year and then got his grades back up and went on to college.”

To become a cop. Her family drama paled in comparison to his. “What about you? Did you ever rebel?”

“No. I was never good at math or the sciences, but I managed a B average. Art was my forte. I oil painted, drew in lead and colored pencils. My paintings were often displayed in the school hall outside the art room. My parents worried I’d never make a comfortable income. They sat me down for a talk my senior year and said, ‘Hey, look, you might not be able to support yourself.’ Their way of saying they were convinced I’d be the clichéd starving artist.” She laughed. “I suppose I am still, in some ways.”