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“Part of the Beau-liever fan club?” He gave her a sidelong glance. The sunglasses kept her safe from the power of his blue eyes.
“He is very charming,” she said, teasing Ike. “Eligible bachelor of the year, right?”
Truthfully, Myra used to be a huge fan of the smooth-talking quarterback. Especially when he and actress Bermuda Gray had been a couple. Rumor was Beau had been arrested for his fourth DUI in a month. Social media speculation was he’d had his heart broken by Bermuda, after he cheated on her. Myra didn’t wish heartbreak on the man, but he was the one who had cheated and driven under the influence. Her mom had been killed by a drunk driver. As a Christian, she prayed hard to not judge anyone’s path or choices, but driving drunk made her blood boil.
Ike grunted at that.
“If you’re asking if I have a Beau-liever tattoo, the answer is no.” She tugged down the sleeve of her T-shirt as if she were hiding a tattoo. “I had a coverup done after his DUIs.”
Ike actually smiled at that, and she congratulated herself.
“Beau has been at his mansion on Dana Beach, training for next season, and he needs some help.”
She nodded.
“The state of California justice system decreed, and the Chargers’ head coach gave his full support, that every afternoon this week, Beau will appear at spring football practices and teach and speak to the youth. He’ll basically get off with community service and a hefty fine.”
Myra wished the guy would serve some time and maybe he would think before he got behind the wheel wasted. The problem was he probably didn’t think because of the alcohol.
Instead of focusing on the frustration, she zoned in on Ike and couldn’t resist teasing him. “Did that tax you?”
“What?” He quirked an eyebrow at her, sliding around a Maxima. Luckily the freeway wasn’t insane this time of morning, but it was still busy.
“All those words. I believe that was at least thirty more than I usually get out of you.” Yet he still hadn’t told her what their job was regarding Beau Alexander. Were they watching over the athlete at high school football practices?
He chuckled. Chuckled. Myra didn’t know how to respond to that. It was the most beautiful sound she’d ever heard.
“I don’t waste words. That doesn’t mean I can’t speak.”
“Noted. I have a feeling I’m going to learn a lot about you during this assignment.” She quivered with anticipation at the thought and then berated herself for thinking like a silly girl.
His grip on the steering wheel tightened and his left hand balled and bounced on his left thigh. His muscular thigh captured her attention, and she couldn’t pry her gaze away.
“You can try,” he said softly, not looking at her.
“Ouch. You don’t think I’ll succeed? I could pry a hog out of its feeding trough. I think I can squirrel something deep, inspiring, and earth-shattering out of the likes of you.” The teasing came naturally to her—too many siblings, her dad’s example, being around men nonstop and using the teasing to become their friend rather than a romantic interest. With him, it felt borderline … flirting.
He smiled and relaxed his grip on the steering wheel. “The poor hog,” he said drily. “Just trying to eat his dinner.”
She laughed at that. It was quiet for a moment, then she asked, “Why both of us and the extra security? To protect him from high school football players? That seems over the top. The kids will idolize him, and I think any Beau-liever would sacrifice their own body to protect him. Besides, doesn’t Beau have his own security team?”
She wondered why he hadn’t brought up the fake dating thing Charli had mentioned. Maybe the plan had changed? She could hope. She didn’t want to pretend to date Beau Alexander. Her stomach squirmed. She’d assume most single women within ten years of Beau’s age would jump at the chance to so much as be in the same room as the guy. A few months ago, she would’ve been thrilled. Not now.
“He does. His regular security will patrol the property, watch from a distance while we’re out and about, and monitor film as usual. There’s a stalker.”
“Oh. That changes things.”
“For sure. I’m to pose as his friend, ‘staying close to him for emotional support at this hard time.’” He shook his head. “Charli is afraid Beau was more concerned about us being part of his ‘night life.’ Of course we’ll be driving since he isn’t capable of doing that sober. He’s gotten in a fist fight with every ‘friend’ or security guard that tried to stop him from driving drunk.” He gave her a conspiratorial smile. “I think we can take him.”
“Definitely. So … me and you and night life?” She could almost envision them dancing slowly at a club while keeping an eye on Beau and the quarterback’s dozens of simpering women.
Ah, shoot. Keeping focus on this job was already rough and they weren’t even to the job yet. Ike Porter got under her skin, and she knew he wasn’t trying to.
Why only Ike as Beau’s friend? Was her role still a fake girlfriend? Her stomach turned over again. Please say she didn’t have to hug, kiss, and hold Beau. Maybe the plans had changed. Ike was taking his sweet time getting the job details out.
“Not really my forte.” He shrugged and looked more uncomfortable than she’d ever seen him. Nothing seemed to rile this guy, but a dance club might induce cold sweats. He wasn’t big on the social scene. She could relate.
“Don’t worry.” She put a hand on his arm, meaning to offer support, but once her palm connected with his warm, firm flesh, she had no desire to move it. “I can …” She swallowed and tried to remember what they were talking about. “Help you dance and spice up the night life. I’m a natural.” That was a lie; she’d never seen much night life besides guarding assignments, but she could dance.
