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“I do too.” Ike passed a hand over his face. “I never would’ve believed twenty-four hours ago how much my view would change on …” He studied her and didn’t finish his sentence.
Myra wished she was a bold, daring kind of girl. She was with fighting or shooting but not with romance. She wanted to grab his suitcoat, push him against the wall, and kiss him. Maybe she’d try to knock his feet out from under him, then when he let her pin him to the ground, she could insist he not let her win and he owed her a kiss. Or she could lean against the wall herself, give him a come-hither look or crook her finger at him to come in close, and as he stepped in with that enticing way he cocked his eyebrows, she’d grab his suitcoat and yank him against her and kiss him.
Something banged against the wall upstairs. She was yanked from her fantasies with Ike.
“The room was clean, but I’d better go check on him,” Ike said. “Sounds like he’s throwing a football.”
“You don’t want me to come?” She didn’t even know how to give a come-hither look. Would her boss think she was insane if she called Charli and asked for tips to get Ike to fall for her? She didn’t have female friends to turn to. Her little sisters were young and her opposites, boy magnets and driving her dad into an even more overprotective dad stance. She’d never take advice from those two.
“I’ll be fine,” he said. “You get some rest.”
“Okay. I have been up for,” she calculated, “over twenty-one hours.”
“I’m with you.” He smiled softly and then looked over her face.
Neither of them moved.
Another loud thump.
“You know what? I’ll go with you. He might need some advice from a female.”
Ike gave her a curious look and her stomach squirmed. He didn’t think she was a normal female. Why was she surprised? She rarely acted like one.
“If you want to,” was all he said. “But maybe stay behind me.”
She almost protested on principle.
“We don’t want Beau to throw something and hit your beautiful face.”
“Okay,” she conceded. “Compliment me to get your way.”
He smiled and shocked her even further by taking her hand. Her body thrilled at the contact and all her visions of kissing him spun back to life. Ike continued to be a roller coaster for her. If she wasn’t in a high spot right now, she’d probably have to face the fact that not knowing how to read a guy ‘romantically’ and not understanding emotions and relationships was just another reason to stay out of them.
They ascended the stairs together, but when they reached the platform outside Beau’s master suite double doors, Ike released her hand and stepped in front of her.
She’d never wanted a man to protect her and always wanted to prove herself. With Ike … could it be different, or was she making up excuses in her mind? Ike was an alpha male all the way through, and it was his nature to shelter and protect. It was appealing instead of annoying. She could quietly admit that. Could they find a balance with his instincts to protect and her need to prove herself and stand on her own?
He rapped on the door. “Beau?”
Footsteps pounded their way then the door swung open. Myra peeked around Ike’s shoulder.
Beau’s suitcoat and tie were gone, and his shirt was half-buttoned. He had a bottle of amber-colored whiskey in one hand, Whistle Pig on the label. A football was in the other.
“What’s up?” Beau asked.
Even with the bottle of whiskey in his hand, his dark eyes were clear and he didn’t appear to have drunk too much. Was he such an alcoholic his body could handle consuming copious amounts?
“Just checking if everything’s okay. We heard a lot of thumping up here,” Ike said.
“Oh.” He stepped back and gestured them in.
Ike took Myra’s hand again and stayed in front of her. She expected to see the huge suite trashed, but all she saw was a big net in front of the interior wall. She hadn’t noticed it when Beau had given them the tour; it looked like it descended from a long slit in the ceiling. Beau drilled the football into the net and the familiar thump sounded as he threw it so hard it slammed into the wall behind it.
“There ya go,” Beau said. “Mystery solved.” He walked over to an overstuffed chair and sank down, drinking a slow drag of the whiskey straight from the bottle.
Ike released Myra and strode over. He held out his hand. “Give me the bottle and get some rest. It’ll be better tomorrow.”
Beau blinked up at him. “No, it won’t. It’s been almost a month and she won’t believe me. She’ll never give me another chance.”
