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He shrugged. “Parking is a hassle at the practice facility. This is easier.”
That wasn’t true—there were hundreds of open parking spots at the practice facility the day before. I opened my mouth to argue, then realized this was just an excuse.He’s afraid of going back to the parking garage.I considered insisting that we take his car, that we face his fears outright, but I knew that he would dig in his heels if I called him out on it. I’d dealt with a lot of big guys in my life—both as a bodyguard, and in the Army—and most of them were more stubborn than a pack of mules.
The Uber dropped us off at the practice facility. On the way inside, I held out my hand. “Can I see your phone?”
Luke hesitated. “Uh, why?”
“I want to enableFind My Friends. It will allow me to track you in case we’re ever separated.”
“You’ll be able to see me wherever I am? I don’t know how I feel about it.”
I rolled my eyes. “I’ve done it with all my clients before. It’ll make everything easier. Trust me.”
“I’m not sure if I trust you that much, but fine.” He handed me the phone. While I enabled the setting, he looked sideways at me and said, “You don’t carry a weapon or anything?”
“Don’t need one.”
He barked a laugh. “All the athlete bodyguards I’ve known carry weapons.”
I handed back his phone. “How many bodyguards do you know?”
“Hank Aaron’s bodyguard carried a pistol,” Luke said stubbornly.
“Hank Aaron,” I replied, deadpan.
“That famous video of him breaking Babe Ruth’s record? When the two guys ran onto the field and patted him on the back during his home run trot? His bodyguard was sitting in the front row by third base, with a pistol underneath his coat. He thought the two fans were trying to attack Hank, and he was a split second away from shooting them.”
“You’re not making a good argument for me to carry a weapon.”
“Other bodyguards carry, is all I’m saying.”
“Then hire one of them,” I shot back. “I have everything I need to protect my clients.”
“Whatever you say,” Luke replied, and then disappeared into the locker room.
I glanced at my watch. I was assigned to Luke around the clock, with the exception of the time he spent at the practice facility, since there was plenty of security here. I had a few hours all to myself.
After wandering around for a few minutes, I found the cheerleader locker room. The women inside gave me strange looks, but generally ignored me as I changed into my workout clothes. The Stallions fitness room was enormous and filled with every manner of exercise machine. It was also currently empty while the team did their on-field drills. I picked a treadmill, cranked the speed up to eight miles an hour, and began jogging.
Exercise was one of the routines the Army instilled in me. My unpredictable schedule often made it difficult to find time to work out regularly, so I was grateful to have some down time while Luke practiced.God knows I need the endorphins.
When my ex and I were still together, we worked out together every single day—when my schedule didn’t interfere. An hour jog before the sun came up, and then Yoga in our living room while we cooled down. Since breaking up, I had missed that stable part of my life.
I pushed the thought out of my head and considered my current assignment. As annoying as Luke had been, it was still better than following Kaylyn around while she made TikTok videos. Luke was a real celebrity whoactuallyneeded protecting, even if he seemed to be in denial about the dangers he faced. I wondered if the gig would only last a week, or if the Stallions would extend the contract. This was the biggest client I had ever been given, and it would be an important bullet point on my résumé. I needed to do a good job.
And it would be nice to be able to exercise regularly again.
After jogging for half an hour, I wiped down the machine and headed over to the dumbbells. I didn’t have any current routine, so I did a circuit that focused on my biceps, triceps, and traps. Then I hopped back on the treadmill for a cool down.
I must have lost track of time, because the door to the fitness room flew open and the enormous Stallions players began pouring in, laughing and joking about something that had happened on the field. I quickly turned off the treadmill and began wiping my sweat off the equipment.
A big shirtless athlete whistled between his teeth. “Didn’t know the cheerleaders were allowed in here. Don’t let us stop you. Plenty of room for all of us.”
“That’s not a cheerleader,” someone else said. “That’s the rookie’sbodyguard.”
The first guy busted out laughing. “Oh, shit. You’ve got a bodyguard? And she looks likethat?”
I was used to being objectified. That’s just how it went when you were one of seven women on an Army base—and had a curvy body, to boot. Which meant I was used to letting comments like that roll off my back. I grabbed my workout bag and started to leave.
