Someone to Watch Over Me (22 page)

Carter, who had fallen behind us in shame,
spoke up, breaking the silence. “My God that was devastating.”

“Tell me about it,” Jake agreed. “You should
be ashamed, dude.”

Tate peeled Levy from my side, and lifted
him over his head so that he could ride on his shoulders. This
instantly erased any vestige of dismay from Levy’s expression.

Me, I wasn’t as consolable.

“Anyone who can put fear and shame into the
hearts of men and children with their voice alone…you’re a good
mom, Coop.”

“Thanks, Carter.”

“If I curse in front of your kid again, you
can kick me in the b-a-l-l-s.”

Chapter
11

“I
didn’t expect to
see you so soon,” Em admitted, pulling me into an embrace.
“Actually, I didn’t expect to ever see you again. I thought for
sure you were going to run off with the rock star.”

“If the rock star had his way…” Tate trailed
off at my expression and rolled his eyes. “I meant about coming
back so soon, Coop. Don’t look so horrified.”

“I’m not!”

“You’re gaping like a fish out of water.” I
knew he wasn’t mad, because he smiled and winked at Em. “I’m
working on her. We’re starting with next weekend. She’s coming to
my show with me in Jersey to see what it’s like on the road.”

“I never said I was coming.”

“Then I look forward to talking you into
it.” For some reason, I didn’t think he had talking in mind. “I’ll
take your stuff up,” he said with a smug grin. Swinging my bag over
his shoulder, he held his hand out for Levy. “Come on Mini Cooper,
let’s go hang.”

“Hang?” Levy echoed, taking Tate’s hand.

“Guy time. You and me. We’ll order some
wings, watch some ball on TV, and have a beer. Well, I can have
beer. You can have some juice on the rocks.”

Staring suspiciously at the rocks covering
the driveway, Levy said, “I no want wocks in my juice.”

Tate sighed melodramatically and glanced
over his shoulder at me. “You’ve so much to learn, Mini Cooper.
Don’t worry, Tate’s gonna teach you to hang with the guys.”

“God give me strength.” Shaking my head, I
winced. Em laughed, but muffled it with her hand when I unleashed
the look of wrath upon her. “They taught him to say
cock
today.”

“Judging by your expression, I think it’s
safe to say he won’t be saying it again.”

“I daresay not.”

“Oh, come on,” Em said, cuffing my arm,
“it’s wonderful, Coop! Levy has a man in his life!”

“I know! I just never thought I’d reach the
point where I needed to worry about the things Levy would pick up
from him!”

“It’s nothing every other mother doesn’t go
through, sweetie. There’s no reason to ditch him over it.”

“Who said I was ditching him?”

“Good God,” Em drawled, a slow smile
creeping across her face, “You’re in
love
with him.”

This, I rolled my eyes at. It was a given.
“He’s Tate Watkins, how could I not?”

“Have you told him?”

Flushing, a dopey smile spread across my
face. “He said it first.”

“Why am I not surprised?”

“Because I’m so lovable?”

“Mm hmm,” said Em, doubtingly. She thought I
was holding back still, that I was going to run. She stared for a
moment, dithering on perusing the matter, and decided to leave it.
“Well, perhaps you demonstrated your love with some alternative
oral acknowledgement…?”

“Em!”

“Why else would you be talking so funny,
Coop? Something’s obviously wrong with your tongue. Maybe you
sprained it.”

Rolling my eyes, I stuck my tongue out at
her. Like everyone else, Em gasped and made a scoffing sound. “How
do you expect to sing with that in there?”

“I’m not. Tate wants me to come to his
concert next weekend, so I won’t be singing. By the weekend after,
I’ll have the shorter bar in.”

“Can’t you just take it out while you’re on
stage?”

“Nope, Tate said it would close up. Tongues
heal really fast.”

“Tate says…Jesus, did he pierce you
himself?”

“No, but he has his tongue pierced too. He
took his bar out before he went on stage once, and it started
closing up by the time he was done.”

“Why…nevermind.” Em shook her head,
dispelling whatever thought had crossed her mind. “How are you,
Coop? You look ok, but how are you really?”

“Good…I’m good.”

“You saw your parents.”

Odd, I hadn’t told her that I saw my
parents. “How did you know?”

Dropping her head, Em cradled her forehead
in her hand and muttered something under her breath, low enough
that I couldn’t hear.

“Are you ok?” She looked like she was having
an aneurism, not that I’d ever seen someone have an aneurism.
Perhaps it was just a migraine.

“Fine…um…Tate mentioned that he had called
them when he called me to pack your things.”

“Oh.”

“I’m fine, sweetie. Tell me about
yourself.”

“They wanted me to come home, naturally. But
Tate mollified them with talk of bodyguards and around the clock
protection.”

“The guy’s a godsend.”

“As good as it sounds it’s not going to
happen.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s unrealistic.”

“You were almost murdered two days ago,
Cooper!”

“I was attacked by someone with road
rage!”

“You can’t be sure it wasn’t Grant.”

“Do you think I don’t know that!” I snapped.
As always, my eyes clouded with moisture. It was an adverse effect
of anger. “I’m trying to live a little. Isn’t that what you told me
to do?”

Consolingly, she placed her hand on my
forearm and squeezed. “Yes, Cooper, but I want you to be safe too.
If you’re not going to accept help when it’s being offered, then at
least take precautions elsewhere.”

She wanted me to learn to shoot. “Fine.”
That much, I could do. Tate wouldn’t always be around to save the
day. “Tomorrow, after work, we’ll go out back.” Mr. Craig had a
stack of bales that he used for targets. I could spare an hour or
two if it meant protecting Levy.

Despite my acquiescence, I had qualms over
packing heat. My largest concern was keeping a gun in the house
with Levy. I could stow it up high where he couldn’t reach it, or
keep it in a lock box under the bed, but if the need to use it
should arise, how would I get to it in time? Furthermore, could I
even use the thing? Could I look Grant in the eye and pull the
trigger? Could I take his life? If I couldn’t, he could ultimately
turn the weapon on me.

If that didn’t cast a pall over the
venture.

“Let’s play it by ear. I have to talk to
Garrison, make sure he has time. He’s been busy round here the past
few days. Haven’t seen him since Friday morning, actually.”

“I’m not entirely comfortable with this. I
feel like a freakin’ vigilante.”

“There’s nothing wrong with protecting
yourself, Cooper. You’re not going out and hunting the man down.
This is entirely defensive. He’s coming after you.”

“It’s not just that…”

“We’re not going to just place a gun in your
hand. We’ll teach you safety through handling and storage. By the
time we’re done, you’ll have respect and confidence when handling
your weapon.”

“Geez, Em, you’re like the GI Jane of mother
hens.”

“I don’t know,” Em demurred. “Maybe you’re
right that Friday was a coincidence, but those photos left on your
car weren’t. I just don’t want to see you or Levy get hurt.”

“I appreciate that.”

“Go on,” Em said, waving me off. “Go spend
some time with your rock star before you return to the corporate
world tomorrow. I’m going to see where Garrison’s been hiding.”

“Hey Em?” I said, walking backward toward
the stairs. “Do you want to come with me to the concert this
weekend? Carter’s sister, Jess, said she’d watch Levy.”

Em blurted a laugh. “A rock concert? Me?
God, Coop, you slay me!”

“You’re not old, Em.”

“They’re a little heavy for my taste. But
thanks for thinking of me.”

“Tim Mcgraw and Keith Urban more your
speed?”

“Yeah, why do you say that?”

“Because they’re Mr. Craig’s speed too.”

“Oh! Get out of here you crazy kid,” Em
grumbled, stalking off toward Mr. Craig’s house. “There’s nothing
going on between us! I don’t know where you got that idea in your
head!”

“Suuuurrrreee. Is that why you’re wearing
that sundress?” It was ivory with a rose print and pearl buttons
down the entire length. It screamed country like a tall glass of
tea on a hot summer day. Mr. Craig would love it. “You look awful
purty for spending a Sunday afternoon all by your lonesome.”

“You’re delusional, Coop.”

Smiling after her, I turned and trotted up
the stairs to my apartment. Tate was throwing back a beer with Levy
half asleep in his lap. Indeed, they were watching a ballgame.
Phillies were down three to nothing against the Mets. Levy seemed
more interested with the inside of his eyelids. Scooping him up, I
made a quick change of his diaper and laid him on the length of the
sofa to sleep. Ball games had that affect on me too, no offense to
the ballplayers.

Likewise, Tate lost interest in the game.
Polishing off his beer, he set the empty bottle on the end table
and pulled me into his lap. “Is everything ok?”

“Yeah, we just talked.” Tate was concerned,
but he was also eager to find the ink I had kept hidden from him
for entirely too long. His curiosity was bourgeoning. Currently,
his hands were roving blindly beneath my shirt, searching every
inch of my skin.

“About?”

“Levy, you, road rage incidents, psycho
ex-boyfriends, shooting lessons…”

“Shooting lessons?” he repeated, looking up
from where he had begun nibbling at the crook of my neck. His hands
fell still as well.

“Mr. Craig and Em want to teach me to use a
handgun. They think I should know how to protect myself.”

“Are you comfortable with that?”

I lifted my shoulders noncommittally.

“I think it might be a good idea, but I’d
like to get Evan involved. No offense to Garrison and Em, but he’s
a professional.”

“I didn’t realize that you were on first
name basis with my landlord.”

“Oh, we’re like this.” He crossed his middle
finger over his first. “Well, we are now. I’ll admit it was a
little tense at first. The guy
did
polish his Winchester at
the table while he evaluated my principles.”

“You’re lying.”

“Yeah, he’s like a year older than I am,
Coop. I can’t call him Mr. Craig.”

Gasping, I covered my mouth. “Oh my God,
you’re
that
old!”

Tate laughed darkly and stood, lifting me
with him. “Oh babe, you’ve a few things to learn about me yet.”

“Like?”

“I’m like Whiskey; I improve with age.”

“And.”

“I hate surprises. The anticipation kills
me.”

“You know what I hate?”

“What?”

“I’ll tell you later.” I squealed as Tate
dug his fingers into my side and wiggled them against my ribs. Levy
startled but didn’t wake.

In a few strides, we were wedged into the
small bathroom. Tate set me on the sink. I prayed the particleboard
vanity didn’t splinter under my weight. “Where is it?”

“I like the body search you’re doing better.
Keep looking.” With a devious smile, he pulled my shirt over my
head and continued to hunt for the telltale patch of gauze. For a
moment, he stepped back, stumped, then reached and unhooked the
back of my bra.

I sat up straight, watching with amusement
as his brain stopped working and he stared at my breasts, consumed.
His eyes glazed over, catch lights from the vanity enhancing his
dark irises. Animatedly, he shook his head, tearing himself from
his ogling.

“You’re killing me, strawberry girl. You
know that, right?”

My lips curled into a euphoric grin.

Curling his finger, Tate beckoned me to him.
I slid from the sink and turned, placing my back against his front.
The space was small. As Tate pressed his chest to my back and
reached to unbutton my shorts, I drew a deep breath of his musky
scent. He was divine, virile.

A second later, my shorts dropped to the
floor. Tate curled the sides of my bikinis around his fingers,
slowly drew them down, searching my hips and lower back for the ink
that he had yet to find. “Babe,” he said indignantly, “have you
been torturing me all day for nothing?”

“No, you just haven’t looked
everywhere.”

Spinning me, his gaze landed on the small
patch of gauze. “Jesus Christ, you had your
mound
inked.”

Laughing at his shocked expression, I asked,
“Do you want to see it?”

“That’s a dumb question.” Dropping to his
knees, he began peeling back the tape ever so carefully to keep
from pulling my skin. I had no hair down there. I’d had it lasered
before I left for college. There was no way I was going to sunny
California and having to deal with waxing or razor burn. At the
time, I’d planned to live in my bikini and board shorts, and spend
every free minute at the beach. Life didn’t quite work out that
way, but the lasering was worth every penny.

“I’ve been dying to see it all day,” Tate
said, drawing my attention with another soft pull of the tape. “Now
I’m only more so curious.”

“You’re going to take forever at this
rate.”

“I can’t just rip it off. This is a very
sensitive situation. Besides, it’s like Christmas and my birthday
all rolled into one. I want to take my time.”

Impatiently, I gripped the edge of the sink,
bracing myself against the god-forsaken adhesive. “Holy crap, I
think the tape hurts worse than the needle.”

After much gritting and bearing, the final
length of tape pulled free. Thank the gods for small favors. Pubic
hair or not, it still hurt.

Saying nothing, Tate sat back on his
haunches, staring with what I hoped was absorption and not disgust.
Naturally, I leaned toward the worst possible conclusion.