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Amelia:Sam??? Hellooooo? Where are you?
He doesn’t answer me, so I hit play on the show I was about to watch and get comfy, just in time for the text alert to chime again.
Sam:Sorry. I called Dean. Someone will be outside your apartment all night.
Sam:Don’t go anywhere.
Amelia:Are you insane?!? I’m fine Sam. Call Dean back and call off the dogs. I don’t need it. It’s just a weird feeling.
I knew I shouldn’t have said anything.
Sam:I’m not taking any chances.
Amelia:I’m a better shot than any of your men, and my entire building has better security than the White House. Call them off.
Sam:Don’t remind me. I should have you come to the range with a few of them. Maybe wear some tight black leather.
Amelia:Sam...
Sam:I gotta go. Don’t go anywhere tonight. Don’t open the door for anyone who’s not Dean. I’ll come to you as early as I can tomorrow night.
Amelia:You’ve got to be kidding me.
I wait for a response that never comes.
Amelia:Sam... Hello...
This man is unequivocally infuriating.
* * *
An hour later when I check my security system, sure enough, one of Sam’s crew is sitting in a parked car outside my building. I recognize the poor guy who’s been tasked with babysitting. He’s in the shop once or twice a week. Pretty sure his name’s Marco. And I know he has better things to do on his Saturday night than babysitting me. With my mind made up, I brew a cup of coffee, stomp down the steps, and stop in the bakery to grab a few donuts before I knock on his window.
As the window lowers, it exposes the sheepish expression on Marco’s face. “You’re supposed to be staying inside, Miss Amelia.”
I shove the paper Sweet Temptations cup and bag of donuts through the window. “How old are you, Marco?”
“Uh... I’m twenty-six.” He takes the proffered goods from my hands and peeks inside the bag. “These smell delicious.”
“Well, thank you.” Then remembering why I came down here, I stomp my foot. “I’m two years younger than you, so cut the ‘Miss Amelia’ thing, please. And tell your boss I don’t need a babysitter.” Feeling a smidge better, I turn to storm off when Marco interrupts me.
“Do me a favor, and just stay inside tonight. Okay?”
I turn my head to look at this poor guy stuck watching me for the night and then scan the empty street. “You’re not leaving, are you?”
I know his answer before he shakes his head no. “Fraid not, ma’am.”
“Ma’am is just as bad as Miss, Marco. Maybe worse.” I stomp off before I get nasty with the guy whose night I inadvertently ruined.
Then I hear him call after me, “Make sure you lock up.”
Fucker.
* * *
The next morning, when Dean stops in for a dozen danish and to flirt with Lyla, I corner him before she can give him her number. “Jesus, Dean. My shop is not your own private Tinder. Find a different place to meet your next conquest.” I box up his danish and add a dozen donuts while I’m at it. “Did you let Marco leave yet? The last time I had a chance to check was hours ago. And the poor guy was still out there, and he was still awake.”
Dean pulls out one of the white powdered double-stuffed, cream-filled donuts, and shoves the entire thing into his mouth. “Seriously? Eww.” I guide him to an open table at the far end of the shop and hand him a napkin. “You guys went way overboard with this.”
“When Sam calls me and tells me you’re getting the heebie-jeebies, I do what I’m told. Because I gotta tell you, Amelia... you’re kind of a legend.” He finally wipes the powdered sugar from his lips. “Nothing scares you. You’re a better shot than most of the guys I work with. If your gut says something’s off, listen to it. Sammy’s just worried about you. If something happened and he wasn’t here, he’d never forgive himself.” Dean takes a big gulp of coffee, washing down his donut, kisses me on the cheek, and then turns to leave. “When you see him tonight, try not to shoot him, okay? If Sam dies, I’ll have to answer to Nick, and I really don’t wanna answer to Nick.”
Why do I even bother to argue?
I’m so freaking screwed.
