Page 14 of Guarding the Star

Iris

The event sponsor gave me two outfit options, and I can't decide on either one.

Dark blue dress, short, V-neck. Or black pants and a white top with thin straps. The dress says, “I'm a professional who takes this seriously.” The pants say the same thing, but let me run if I have to.

I pick the pants.

My ponytail is tighter than usual today. Small earrings. Perfume. Mine, this time. I look in the mirror and think that if I tried a little harder, I could pass for a woman who has her life together.

Someone pounds on the door.

The bodyguard, I'm guessing. For the fifth time. My teammates must be wondering why my girlfriend is waiting in the hallway while I get dressed.

“Shit,” slips out when I open the door and see her.

She's wearing a dark suit. Black pants with a fitted jacket that sharpens her shoulders, gray shirt underneath that shows her collarbones.

She looks unfairly good. Too bad we met under these circumstances and not at a club.

I turn around to grab my bag and use the moment to breathe. A thought doesn't mean anything. People think things all the time and I think things more than most. You think someone's hot, done, brain moves on. End of story. We're good.

“Event starts at eight,” she reminds me as we walk down the hall. “Your second biggest sponsor and the local press. They'll probably ask about me.”

“Probably? Yeah.”

Paula opens the car door for me. The club sent a car to pick us up.

“I can open my own doors,” I say.

“I know.”

“So why are you doing it?”

“Because it's safer. While I open it, I'm checking for anything wrong inside and getting a look at the driver.”

I just roll my eyes while she circles the car and gets in on the other side.

“Remember everything?”

“Yes.”

“If someone gets too close, you smile, stick to me, and don't look around,” she insists.

“Nobody's going to attack me at a sponsor event. What if I need to go to the bathroom?”

“You tell me.”

“What if I really need to go to the bathroom?”

“You really tell me.”

“Yes, Mom,” I joke, though I'm starting to think this woman has zero sense of humor.

“If I whisper in your ear, it's not flirting. It's instructions,” she reminds me.

“Damn, and here I was getting my hopes up. Relax, I'm kidding again. I know how to act. I've been doing it my whole life.”

I shouldn't have said that. It's too close to the truth.