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He glanced at the rolled clothes and hawkeyed her makeshift platforms. “Didn’t meet the requirements?”
“Actually, at five feet tall, I barely squeaked by. I considered joining because my family wouldn’t allow me to participate in the family business.”
“Why not?”
“Too small, too weak, too woman.”
He laughed. “Have they ever seen a grenade? It’s small but packs a punch. I’ve learned never to underestimate size, age, or gender.” He held out his arm and flexed his muscle. “I got my ass handed to me arm wrestling a woman in Kandahar. She wasn’t much bigger than you.”
“It takes a real man to admit that. And in the end, I got them to change their minds. I proved I was worthy.” She liked Jackson. He’d probably become a friend if she were staying in Aspen Cove.
“I learned long ago that I don’t have to prove my worth to anyone but myself.”
“I can’t say I’ve learned that lesson yet,” she said. “I find myself having to prove myself all the time.”
“That’s because people are idiots.”
“That’s something we can agree on.”
He shifted in his seat to face her. “Tell me the most famous person you’ve protected.”
She thought about the cast of characters contributing to her bank account over the years and realized she’d never been assigned any high-profile clients. Those always went to her brothers. “I’m more corporate than movie stars. My brother protected Cameron Madden, and now he’s married to her.”
“Wow. Would you marry a client?”
“Never. I have a strict code of conduct. Never mix business with pleasure.”
“You’re telling me if you were protecting someone like Jason Momoa, you wouldn’t, you know … if the opportunity came up?”
“First of all, he’s not my type.”
“He’s everyone’s type. Hell, half the guys I know would bend their rules for him.”
She laughed. “He’s too big, too famous, and has too much hair for me.”
“I got you.” He reached back to give his dog a pat on the head. “There’s a bar in town called Bishop’s Brewhouse. It’s owned by my buddy Bowie and his brother Cannon. That’s where I’m headed.”
“And I thought my family names were strange.”
“I’d like to take you out for a drink.”
Her foot slipped from the gas pedal to the brake, jolting them as the car slowed. “Sorry, umm…”
“It’s not a date,” he said. “It’s a thank you for picking up a stranger. As I said, no one would stop.”
“Have you looked at yourself lately? You’re an intimidating figure.” His head came within an inch of the roof, making him well over six feet tall. She could never date a man that tall and not have neck problems.
“You weren’t afraid.” He shrugged.
“That’s because I can take care of myself. I’m a self-defense expert. And I snapped your picture with my phone and loaded it to the Cloud just in case.”
“Well, I’m grateful.”
She adjusted her ball cap and pulled at the collar of her black T-shirt. “Why aren’t you asking me on a date?” She rarely dated, but it was usually a schedule conflict. Or maybe it was because no one asked. But why wasn’t he interested?
“First of all, you’re not sticking around. Second, you’re not my type. I like my women—”
“Taller?”she asked.
