Page 26 of About Last Night

“Did you always want to be a bodyguard?” I asked him.

“Not particularly. I wanted to be a firefighter when I was little and then I joined the navy right out of high school and went the special forces route. That’s how I met Raf—Rafferty Carmichael. We were in the same unit for most of our time in the service, but he got out a few years before I did and set up Carmichael Security. By the time my contract was about to be up, he had things up and running and offered me a job with better pay and benefits. Plus I could be close to home, which was nice because I missed seeing my brother regularly. It was one of those things I just happened to be good at, and it fell into my lap.”

One thing I loved most about Wyatt was that he shared information so freely with me. I’d dated guys before where getting information out of them was like pulling teeth, but not with Wyatt. A simple question and he gave me a full and complete answer. But it also just made me want to know more about him.

“What would you do if you weren’t a bodyguard?”

His hand stilled briefly before he continued washing my body. “I’m not really sure.”

A sliver of guilt wormed its way into my conscience. I was costing him his job. If he meant what he said when he implied he’d already given things up for me, then being with me was going to cost him more than it would cost me. It didn’t feel fair, and I worried that he might come to resent me later because of it.

“Maybe you could do something with your hands. Like wood carving or something.”

He kissed the back of my head. “That’s not a bad idea. Did you always want to be a performer?”

I appreciated that he didn’t call me a pop star like most people did. “Yeah, pretty much. I’ve been singing since I was little and started writing my own songs in middle school. My parents weren’t performers, but they had high profile jobs and were always schmoozing with actors, singers, producers, agents. It was probably part nepotism, part right place, right time that got me my start. But once I started releasing music and performing for larger and larger crowds, I knew there was nothing else I wanted to do.”

“Is there anything you wish you could change about it?”

“About being famous?”

He placed a kiss on my neck. “Yeah.”

“I don’t know. Sometimes I think it would be nice to have more privacy, more genuine friendships and relationships. Most of the people I’m closest to are on my payroll, and I can’t help but think they only care about me because I pay them.”

By the way his body stiffened behind me, he knew that he fell in that category too, even if I wished he didn’t.

“I think I accepted a long time ago that what I was sacrificing was worth it. There was a moment about three years ago when I almost quit. I was so exhausted from being in the limelight all the time. I’d gone out in public and been a little bloated, and the tabloids went wild saying I was pregnant with my music producer’s baby, which was insane and completely untrue, but the story was near impossible to kill because people eat up that kind of crap. I was going to quietly disappear and then I ran into a fan when I went out to buy groceries. I’ll never forget her for as long as I live. She started crying and told me how my music saved her. Literally saved her. She was going to commit suicide after a particularly rough patch in her life. I had just released my single “Stronger Than,” and she heard it on the radio right before she was about to down a bottle of pills. She told me how she sobbed as she listened to every word and then played it on repeat for several hours before she called a friend for help. That song was already a year old by the time we ran into each other, and she’d completely turned her life around. All because my song played on the radio at the right time.

“It was the first time I really accepted that I did my job for my fans and not just for myself. There is some catharsis when I write my songs because I can write about my personal experiences in a way that’s relatable to others, so it’s not like I only do it for my fans. But they’re a big factor in what keeps me going when things get hard.”

I swirled my hand beneath the water, getting lost in the ripples I made. “Sometimes I feel guilty for feeling so lonely when I’m privileged beyond belief. I have a life so many people dream about, and it makes me feel ungrateful during those times when I wish I had something…”

“Something real?” he finished for me.

My chest squeezed painfully, and emotions thickened my voice when I spoke. “Yeah.”

He wrapped his hand around mine. His was so much larger than mine and yet somehow they fit together perfectly. “This is the realest thing I’ve felt in a very long time,” he said, his voice low, but every word crystal clear.

“Me too,” I confessed. And that’s what scared me so much.

DON’T TOUCH YOURSELF IN FRONT OF SOMEONE ELSE

Brynn

I slapped my winning hand down on the blanket we were sitting on in front of the roaring fire and raised my hands up in the air. “Aha, gotcha. Finally!”

Wyatt was a skilled poker player, something I’d learned by losing over and over again. But after ten rounds, I had finally gotten a good hand that I knew there was no way he could beat.

His lips tilted in a sexy smile that had my insides turning to mush, and his heated gaze watched me like he was thinking about devouring me. My smile faltered and my shoulders sagged.

“No way. You did not beat me,” I said, disappointment bringing me down from the high of what I thought had been an obvious victory.

He looked down at his cards and then tossed them face down into the pile before scooping up all the cards. “Nope, I didn’t. Another round?” he asked, already shuffling the deck.

I placed my hand on his, staring at him intently. “I won? For real?”

He smiled, his eyes softening as he stared at me. “Yeah, baby. You did.”