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Back to Janey. All of what I’ve discovered so far aligns exactly with what she’s told me. She’s a what you see is what you get type, a rarity in my line of work and a standard I don’t live up to myself.
She follows pages about curly hair, nursing, codependency, and funny cats. Her shared posts are almost exclusively about shelter animals needing a home or reminders to get an annual physical. She’s a member of several private book chat groups, which I join under an alias, and they seem to be a way for her to track books she’d like to read. There’s an unexpected number of vampire series on that list, which is interesting. Maybe talking isn’t the only thing she likes to do with that mouth of hers.
Surprisingly, her online presence is pretty clean. There are no fake profiles I can find, no dating site accounts, and no polarizing posts anywhere.
I think Janey Williams is exactly who she says she is and who I thought she is after only a few days with her. An always-talking, sunshine-spreading, unexpected beauty who believes the best about everything and everyone, except herself.
Which makes what I’m about to do that much easier.
I admittedly have a bit of a savior complex. I’ve saved more clients than I can count, from their spouses, from work coups, even from themselves. But I keep my professional life and personal life strictly separate. It’s a rule I live by, and that has served me well over the years.
Except I’m breaking the rule. For her. Because Janey Williams should have someone put her first for once in her life. And it’s going to be me.
Not to be arrogant, but there’s no one better suited than me.
I put my laptop away and begin pulling supplies out of the fridge. The last few mornings, she’s had yogurt with a sprinkling of Fruity Pebbles for breakfast. Today, that changes.
I don’t know if it’s the sizzling bacon or steaming hot coffee that does the trick, but a few minutes later, Janey is climbing down the ladder. And watching her come down, her ass swaying side to side as she searches for the next rung, is all sorts of good reasons to make breakfast for her in the morning.
“G’morning,” she mumbles, still yawning and stretching.
Her hair is a rat’s nest of frizzed curls, there are dark smudges beneath her eyes and a trace of drool beside her lips, her socks are slouched down to different levels on her shapely calves, and her oversized T-shirt is crooked on her shoulders. She looks like she slept like the dead but didn’t get any real rest.
“Breakfast’s ready,” I tell her in what passes for a chipper, happy tone for me as I set a plate of bacon, eggs, and toast on the island.
“Oh!” She immediately attacks the coffee as she sits. “I need this. Thank you.”
I sit next to her with a plate of my own but don’t take a bite. Not yet.
After she eats a few mouthfuls and moans her appreciation, I start. “I can’t fix what’s happened, but I can help with one thing.”
Janey pauses with her fork midway to her mouth, and the eggs fall back to the plate. “What?” A weak smile lifts her lips. “Are you gonna spy on Henry?”
She makes it sound like I’m going to hunt him down and rip his dick off. And while the idea was a tempting consideration, I decided not to. That I know all about his work, where he lives, his car make, model, and license plate, his bank accounts, and even what gym he’s a member of are just... factoids, little pieces of information that might be useful later, but Janey doesn’t need to know about. Yet.
“No. As far as I’m concerned, he’s in your past and needs to stay there.” I frown hard, daring her to disagree, but she stays quiet for a change. “But in your immediate future is your cousin’s wedding. I know how upset you are about that, and that is something I can help with.”
“How? Are you going to kidnap Paisley? Because I’m not necessarily completely, one hundred percent opposed to that idea. At least in concept.” She’s joking, I think.
“You do remember that I’m not a spy, hitman, or criminal, right? Despite what my family thinks.” I’m joking back, but the serious truth sends her spiraling back down quickly.
“I know,” she sighs. “Just wishful thinking. Sorry. You said you can help. How?”
I wish I hadn’t squashed her teasing, no matter how slight. She needs to be lifted out of this funk she’s in. Hopefully, my next offer will bring the light back to her gray eyes. “I’m going with you to the wedding.”
I don’t know what I expect. A rush of rambled ‘thankyouthankyouthankyou’, maybe? But that’s not what happens. Instead, she laughs in disbelief. “What?”
“You said going alone to the wedding would be traumatic. Henry’s not going, but I can. I’ll be your date, stand by your side to have your back against whomever, and make sure you have a great time.” Spelled out, it’s a simple and easy solution.
Janey shakes her head, making her curls bounce around. “No, I couldn’t ask you to do that.”
“You didn’t,” I point out, lifting an eyebrow in an imitation of her own frequent expression. “I’m offering, because you deserve better than Henry, and from what it sounds like, better than your family. You’re not in a mental place to walk into that lion’s den alone. And I understand what that can be like. So take me. Tell them I’m your boyfriend, and I’ll dutifully play the role. I’ve been undercover enough times that I can make it work. I can make anything work.” Okay, so humbleness is not one of my strengths, but I’m not wrong.
Janey blinks at what equates to my rambling the way she does. I’m a man of few words, but I’m suddenly turning into Chatty Chad to talk her into this. Why? I have no idea, but my gut feels like this is the right thing to do.
Maybe it’s because she worked with me on the cabin deal? Yeah, that’s probably it. It definitely has nothing to do with the damsel in distress deal she’s got going on, her beautiful looks, or her sunny personality that I hate to see dimmed by some fuckwit who didn’t know what he had.
“That’s really nice, but you can’t.” She shrugs and ducks her head. “Nobody’d believe that, anyway.”
