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But as I stand with my back to my visitor, a shiver runs from my toes to my face when I hear my name. “Vanessa.”
I’m frozen by the voice filtering through the space. It’s one I thought I would hear for the rest of my life, but instead, I haven’t heard his voice since I was eighteen years old. I tuck my lips inside my mouth, close my eyes, and try to take the smallest breath possible. I can’t let him know he still affects me or that he broke my heart.
Why didn’t I insist on picking the bodyguard myself?
Finally, I snap around and put my big girl panties on. “Beau. Good to see you.”Fake. Fake. Fake.It’s not good to see him. He’s more handsome than I could have ever dreamed.
He nods his head. “You too.”
My eyes well up with tears, so I grab a tissue, pretending to sneeze so I can turn away and wipe away any trace of wetness. “Excuse me. Allergies in Kentucky are awful.”
I’ve never had allergies, and he knows it, but I could have grown into them, right?
His steel-blue eyes are as potent as ever, but the softness of his teenage face is gone, replaced by a lean, square jaw covered with light brown stubble and a few blonde strands highlighting his face. He’s like a guy in a firefighter calendar, blazing hot.
For the longest time, we take each other in. My body rumbles with familiar feelings while goosebumps cover my flesh. I can feel my arm hairs prickling into the fabric of my long-sleeved blouse.
He breaks the silence. “May I sit?”
I nod, but what I truly want is to hug him, wrap my arms around him, and never let him go. Unfortunately, that can’t happen. He’s hated me for the longest time, and it broke my heart that he walked away from us without one backward glance.
He opens his pint-sized portfolio, takes the pen out of its loop, and asks, “How do you want me to refer to you? Ms. Barron or Vanessa?”
Wow. He’s all business. He’s called me Nessa our entire lives, and I guess I’ll never hear his special name for me again. “Vanessa’s fine. You know how it is around here…first names and all.”
“Your executive assistant referred to you asMs. Barron.”
“First, she insists on being called a secretary, and second, she thinks calling me Ms. Barron will make the employees take me more seriously.” I laugh. “As if.”
He taps his pen against his knee. “She’s right. Ms. Barron, it is. Where are you living?”
Beau goes through a list of detailed questions, and as I answer. He occasionally scribbles something on his notepad. His gaze falls just shy of meeting mine.
As he rises from the chair, he says, “I’ll need full access to your security here on the distillery’s campus. I need to make sure they have what I need so I can keep you safe.”
Crossing my arms over my chest, I mumble, “This is all so ridiculous. Don’t you dare call me Ms. Barron. Where is my dad? Why isn’t anyone looking for him?”
“My understanding is that since he left this legal document, law enforcement believes he knew he would be gone for a while, so it’s not a missing person’s case. But you notified the sheriff, correct?”
His accent is almost completely gone, but it’s deep and sincere. I prayed for a day when we would meet again. And I dreamed of it thousands of times. It usually entailed running into his arms, with him in uniform, swinging me around as my dress flared in soft ripples. Then, he’d kiss me long and deep before saying,I’ve never stopped loving you.
Somehow, I swallow those dreams into the recesses of my soul and say, “Yes.”
“I’ll make sure they’re aware of any leads or unusual activity. I’m not a private investigator. I’m a bodyguard with technical and surveillance training.”
“Did you learn the technical stuff in the military?” It’s depressing, really. I should know everything about this man, but it’s like Beau has wiped me and our six-year relationship from his mind, making me wonder if my memories are real. Is it possible that thegreat loveof my life never truly felt the same way about me?
He doesn’t crack a smile or show any frown lines. Beau is robotic when he answers. “Some. Can you let security know I’m coming down? Is it located in the same place?”
“Yes.” I dial the extension. “Sean, Beau Landry is on his way. Make sure he receives full access to whatever he needs.”
“Sure. We’re here.”
When I hang up the phone, Beau looms in front of the window, scanning the edges of the property.
“Beau, is that all you need?”
I walk closer to him and smell the faint fragrance of cedar. My eyes follow the outline of his muscled arms and his wide shoulders, and when he exhales, I hear him mutter, “Why did I say yes?” Then his chin drops to his chest.
