HARLEY DID HER best to not grind her teeth. It wasn’t easy. This dude was ridiculous. From his brand-new jeans with creases up the center, to his shiny useless boots, he dressed like a clown. No wonder he needed protection. The man probably got lost in his own house.
She was tempted to call Hank to let him know she’d picked up Valentine. Given how she assumed the next month would go in this man’s company, she should get paid double. Keeping this guy alive was going to be a pain in the ass.
As she pulled into the parking lot at the grocery store, she glanced again at his clothes. “Did you think people in Montana dressed like that? You’re more likely to be spotted in that getup, you know.”
He frowned at his boots. “That idiot uncle of mine convinced me that if I dressed like this, no one would think for a moment I was the Sawyer Valentine.”
She arched a brow. “So, you’re ‘the’ Sawyer Valentine?” she said in a sarcastic tone. She had no idea who he was other than a paycheck.
He shrugged. “Most people recognize me. Believe me, it’s been a curse, not a blessing.” The man continued on as if he thought she knew what he was talking about. “People avoided me in the airport, so I figured Lance’s stupid plan worked.”
“Look, I don’t care what idiot told you to dress like a nightclub gigolo looking to get laid, but out here you need to be subtle. Blend in. Your life depends on it.”
“I think I should change.” He looked at the bed of the truck. “My clothes are in my bag. I can get more comfortable.”
Harley wondered what more comfortable meant and shuddered at the thought. “We don’t have time for that. Let’s just get the food and get out of here.” She handed him a knit cap. “Wear this and sunglasses.”
He peered at the black cap. “Is this wool?”
“Put the fucking hat on.” She didn’t bother to see if he obeyed. This was a test. He might be a man who’s used to being in charge, but out here, she was the grand poobah. She’d read up on Sawyer Valentine. Rich as fuck, CEO of a company of twenty thousand people, he lived in a five-million-dollar apartment in New York. Someone she had zero in common with aside from breathing oxygen.
She ushered him through the parking lot, checking the area for any visible threads. They walked into the IGA, a local place, which was a plus and a minus. She might not be memorable but Sawyer was. He walked in front of her, and she was disconcerted to find the small hairs on her neck rose when she sensed his presence. Yes, he was good-looking, but she wasn’t one to have her head turned by a man. Especially not a spoiled rich boss like Valentine.
Harley grabbed a cart that might have been in use for the last forty years and pushed the rickety thing down the aisles. Only one wheel went the direction she pushed, and it creaked like an old man’s knees. “Stay with me at all times.” She was surprised to find he obeyed her order given his mutinous expression.
She had a mental list of what to get, including plenty of food that didn’t require refrigeration or cooking. Protein aplenty, too. He walked beside her and, dammit, she smelled him. Not an unpleasant smell. Nope, in fact he smelled good. Likely some expensive cologne he wore.
She turned to scowl at him. “No more fancy scents. It’s a dead giveaway you don’t belong when you smell better than anyone in a hundred-mile radius.”
He wore the knit cap with only a few dark locks escaping on his perfect forehead. A pair of aviator glasses perched on his aquiline nose. His brows rose. “You think I smell good?”
She snorted and returned to foraging at the store that had a dropped ceiling that pressed down on her. Harley had to get out of there. With a final swipe in the juice aisle, she picked up the pace to get to the cash register. The pimply-faced cashier watched her with interest, but when he saw Sawyer, his eyes widened.
“Paper or plastic?” His voice cracked.
“Paper. I’ll bag.” Harley dug deep for her calm, razor-sharp control. She couldn’t let a building spook her. She kept her gaze moving, checking corners and the door, but there wasn’t anyone else in the store.
Sawyer wandered over to a display of candy while their food was run up. One by one. Digit by digit. No scanners in this tiny little hamlet in Montana. When he returned with half a dozen Reese’s Cups she raised a brow.
“My favorite.” He set them on the counter and grasped his hands behind his back. The mirrored sunglasses hid whatever his eyes would’ve revealed. She didn’t want to know what he was thinking, only that he would listen to her. So far, he’d done what she’d told him to. Harley was too experienced to think he was a docile lamb. Not by a long shot.
She paid the curious cashier with cash. After pocketing her change, she turned to find Sawyer holding all five bags, and damned if he didn’t appear to be struggling at all. He was definitely athletically fit. A plus for someone who might need to move fast. His athleticism shouldn’t annoy her, but it did.
With a scowl, she glanced through the glass, right then left and saw no one approaching on foot or in a car. She held open the door while he walked out carrying all the supplies. She loaded them into the toolbox in the bed of the truck while once again Sawyer waited patiently. The man’s stillness bothered her at some elemental level.
“Let’s go.” She unlocked the truck on the passenger side and once again, ushered him into the vehicle.
Sawyer climbed in and stretched out his denim-clad legs. She took one more look around the parking lot before she got into the truck. He waited until she closed her door before he pulled off the sunglasses. What she hadn’t seen behind them was anger and annoyance.
“Bodyguards don’t usually order their bosses around like dogs.”
She chuffed a laugh. “If you think that was ordering you around, you’re in for a surprise.” Harley wasn’t one to back down. Her damn stubborn pride was in the way again. “Out here, I’m in charge, and you do as I say. You want to stay alive, you will listen to me.”
He snatched the hat off his head and threw it at the dash. “Take me back to the airport.”
She started the truck with the taste of regret on her tongue. The last thing she needed was to lose this job. Hank had taken a chance on her, and she couldn’t fuck it up. “Look, we’ll call a truce. I really do know what I’m doing, and I’ll do my best to, ah, not order. I’ll keep you safe no matter what.”
His lips were compressed into a thin white line making his five o’clock shadow appear darker. The man’s eyes were dark brown, like the finest coffee. He had a scar on his left cheek in the shape of a crescent. His hair was cut leaving it longer on top and short around the sides. Not quite the corporate magnate look. But damn the man was devastatingly handsome and built like an athlete.
His jaw tightened. “I’m agreeing because I don’t have a choice. My identification and credit cards are in a locker at the airport in New York. All I’ve got is cash and a miniature bodyguard with a sharp tongue and a big gun.” He threw his hands in the air. “Might as well give up my dignity, too.”
Harley blew out a breath. “Look, Mr. Valentine, I’m sorry we started off on the wrong foot. I can get my back up when people judge me because I’ve got tits.”
His brows went up. One side of his mouth kicked up. “You don’t say?”
Her mouth twitched. “I’m very good at what I do, and I need you to trust me. Your life, and mine, depend on it.” She held out her hand.
He looked away for a few seconds before he stuck out his hand and shook hers. “I may be used to telling people what to do, too.”
“You don’t say?” She barked a laugh and pulled out of the parking space. “This won’t be a boring month—that’s for sure.”
Harley had no idea how she’d get through a month with a man like Sawyer Valentine. Good looking, arrogant, and bossy. Especially considering she was twice as arrogant and bossy.
Definitely not boring.
SAWYER WAS SURE his kidneys were somewhere on the cow path disguised as a road that they’d been traveling down for over an hour. His ass had passed discomfort and landed on numb. However, his back ached like someone had stuck a hot knife between his vertebrae. “Jesus, are you sure this is a road?” The words burst from his mouth in a rush.
She didn’t look at him. “You’re supposed to be hiding. Damn well better be in an out-of-the-way location.”
He hmphed his disapproval and kept his gaze out the windows. The plethora of trees was almost claustrophobic. He’d never seen so many in one location. They seemed to press in on the road as though some insidious tree conspiracy existed to squeeze any vehicle that dared to trespass on this strip of bumpy dirt.
Sawyer knew he would lose his mind if he had to stay here a month. He’d spent his entire life in the city. He didn’t even know how to climb a tree, hunt, fish, or do anything a mountain man might do. All he knew about the wilderness was from movies or tv shows, which likely meant it was all bullshit. The truth was, he might talk a big game, but he was out of his element, and that annoyed him. “Are we almost there? I need to stop and piss some blood.” The sharp tone continued. Sawyer didn’t want to be a dick, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself.
“A little bit longer.” To her credit, she didn’t rise to the bait. “I can stop if you need to take a leak.”
He blew out a breath and tried to shift to a more comfortable position. The ancient springs and padding in the truck’s bench seat had clearly been chewed to pieces by rabid squirrels. “I can wait.”
His hands itched to be holding his phone, which was a couple thousand miles away. He didn’t know what to do with nothing to do, as foolish as that sounded.
“There’s a magazine in the glove compartment. It’s a little old but might pass the time.” Harley sounded calm, but her voice had a sharp edge. Likely because of his juvenile reaction to the situation.
He rummaged in the compartment and pulled out a Ladies Home Journal with a blonde woman and a chimpanzee on the cover. From nineteen seventy-two. He snorted. “Scintillating.”
Harley shook her head. “Didn’t you bring a book or a magazine with you?”
He stared at her, startled by the fact he hadn’t even thought to bring anything with him to do. He’d spend the last twenty years of his life on a computer, on his phone or tablet, or watching a screen. Sawyer had lost touch with low tech entertainment long ago and couldn’t quite remember how to find it again.
He didn’t answer her, because he was a little embarrassed to admit he hadn’t remembered to pack anything. Sawyer relied on others to make sure everything in his life ran smoothly, because he was the boss. Now, he was a passenger in his life with no control or power. And nothing to do.
Well, shit.
Sometime later, she slowed down to a crawl. “We’re here.”
He peered out the window, curious to see where he’d be staying. He saw… trees. And oh yes, trees. “Where?”
Harley parked the truck beneath a sweeping canopy of evergreens and turned off the engine. She pointed ahead. “There.”
He managed to get the door to the truck open and stepped outside. His legs were stiff and his ass full of pins and needles. The smell of the forest overwhelmed him, filling his senses with the cool, piney, moisture-filled air. He took a deep breath and coughed at the feel of the foreignness.
Sawyer looked for something besides the ground of pine needles. He spotted something in the rocks ahead. He started walking toward it, and the closer he got, the more his dread grew.
It was a hovel. A shack. A bunch of old boards nailed together with spit and sheer stubbornness.
At one time, it might have been someone’s cabin. The weathered boards had faded to gray. Some boards had splintered or bowed. It had two very small windows on either side of a door that looked like it belonged on a Medieval castle. The iron straps and thick log seemed incongruous to the tired, sad appearance of the structure. The roof had a steep pitch on either side and might be considered an A-frame if it wasn’t lopsided.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Harley walked passed him with two of the bags of groceries. “It doesn’t get any prettier no matter how long you look at it.”
Against his better judgment, he slung his duffel bag on his shoulder and took the rest of the groceries out of the truck. Although the food she’d chosen wasn’t gourmet, he was hungry, tired, and grumpy.
His confinement had begun.