Lucky Me (3 page)

Kenny was reassuring Dad about how they were the very best bodyguards, as if I even cared about their capabilities. From the corner of my eye I could see Jack evaluating me, which was freaking me out. What the heck was he staring at? It was taking me all the strength I had not to burst into uncontrollable nervous laughter. When I tuned back into the conversation, Santa Man seemed ready to leave.

“I should probably be heading off,” Mr. Walters said, shaking my dad's hand.

We all politely thanked Mr. Walters, then Dad walked him to the front door, leaving Mike and me in the living room with the three bodyguards. On the way out of the room, I could hear him asking Dad if he did his own stunts.

“So,” Mike began, trying to break the ice after a few seconds of silence. “Which one of you is going to be my bodyguard?”

I silently prayed that Jack wasn't Mike's bodyguard. Someone as beautiful as him could not be wasted on my brother. Baby J wouldn't do me like that.

“I am,” Chris said quietly, holding up his hand and giving a little wave. I blew out a sigh of relief.

“I'm your dad's,” Kenny told us, in a deep voice.

I looked at Jack. “So that means—”

“I'm yours.”

If only he had said that with a bouquet of roses in his hand.

“Yeah. Great. Awesome,” I replied.

“Kids,” Dad said, reappearing suddenly from the hallway. His eyes settled on me. “Can you show these guys to the guest rooms? Make sure they're comfortable.”

“They're staying with us?” I asked.

“Yes, Gia. They're staying with us.” Dad said.

“Like in the house? In the house with us? Here in the house . . . with us?”

Dad shot me a look that said
, is there a problem?
and I replied with clear panic in my eyes. Of course there was a problem! I was going into cardiac arrest.

“Follow me, man,” Mike said, motioning toward Chris.

On his way past me, he gave me a knowing look. No doubt he was going to enjoy making fun of my nervous flailing later. I narrowed my eyes at him just before he left the room, sending him a warning.

“I'll give you boys some time to get settled in before dinner,” Dad told Kenny.

“Thank you, sir,” Kenny replied, with a shake of his head. “But we're pretty adaptable. In fact I'd like to spend this time discussing the details of this arrangement, if that's alright.”

“Yes, of course. We can talk in the other room.”

“We're having apple pie for dessert,” I blurted out to the room, and Dad raised an eyebrow. In fact, I had practically yelled it, and very aggressively.

“Great,” Jack said, as I forced myself to lock eyes with his. “I love apple pie.”

“Yeah, me too,” I said with an overly enthusiastic nod. “It's . . . good stuff. Apples, you know. Love ‘em.”

I absolutely hate apple pie. Fruit should not be warm. It's a sign of witchcraft.

“Gia, can I have a quick word with you?” Dad said, and I gave him a questioning look.

Dad gave Kenny and Jack a tight smile, wrapped his hand around my elbow and gently led me out of the room.

“What?” I said, the moment we were out of earshot.

“Don't,” Dad said sternly, dropping his grip from my arm.

“Don't what?”

“Don't! I'm not an idiot, Gia. I can see that Jack is an attractive young man, and I can see this isn't going to end well.”

My jaw dropped so low, I was surprised it actually didn't hit the floor like in the cartoons. “Dad!” I cried, hoping my outrage would mask my embarrassment. The damn apple pie comment had totally given me away.

“I don't want you crossing any lines. I'm serious.”

I crossed my arms defensively across my chest. “Oh, so now
I'm
the only one capable of crossing a line? You invite strangers into our house to trail your kids around all day, and I'm the problem?”

“I'm doing this for your own good!” Dad shot back, and I rolled my eyes. “And you can drop the attitude, it's not going to work with me.”

I uncrossed my arms and gave him the most innocent look I could muster. “Fine,” I said, with a noncommittal shrug. “I was willing to give this a shot for you. But if you don't want me to be nice to the bodyguards, then I won't be.”

“That's not what I—”

“I'm just following orders.”

“Gia th—”

I spun on my heel before he could stop me and practically ran back into the living room. Well jeez; I wasn't some crazed promiscuous lunatic who couldn't control her hormones. Sure, I spent a lot of time lusting after guys who weren't my boyfriend, but you don't introduce a girl to Chris Pine and then expect that she
won't
start planning an imaginary wedding.

Besides, the bodyguards were a complete joke; it's not like we even needed them. They could leave as quickly as they came in. Kenny and Jack, who were talking quietly, stopped and looked at me expectantly when I suddenly marched back in the room.

“Let's go,” I said sharply to Jack. “Look alive.”

He gave me a surprised look and glanced at Kenny, who had his eyebrow raised so far up his head, I doubted it was coming down anytime soon.

“Um . . .”

“Did you not hear me? Let's go!”

“Gia,” Dad said, coming up behind me. His tone implied a threat, but his weary smile told me he was far too exhausted to make a scene. I was winning by default.

“I'm showing Jack to his room, just like you asked. Because apparently we don't have housekeepers to do that.” I batted my long eyelashes innocently. “Right, Jack?”

“Uh, yeah?” Jack said uncertainly. He walked toward me hesitantly, as if he was scared I might rip his head off any second.

“Be nice,” Dad whispered, loud enough so that only I could hear it.

I just smiled. “Let's go.”

I led my new bodyguard down the hallway in silence, past the two recreational rooms, the cinema room and two more lounge rooms. We hadn't even covered a quarter of downstairs yet, but I didn't bother giving him the full tour. He wasn't going to stay for long, so there was no point wasting my time.

Only now that the rage was wearing off a little, the nerves were starting to kick back in. Jack was standing so close to me, the sleeve of his shirt would occasionally graze my arm and tiny electric currents would shoot through my whole body. There was no way that was healthy. As we walked past a mirror, I eyed my outfit as subtly as I could. Tight skinny jeans and a Zara crop top. Nothing too fancy, but at least Dad had sprung the news on me when I had returned from shopping and not when I was just lounging around the house in my PJs.

“Oh, you have a dog,” Jack said finally, more to himself than to me. He was obviously making a sad attempt at small talk.

My Yorkshire Terrier, who was sitting by the stairs, stopped playing a tug-of-war game with his chew toy and gave Jack a half-assed yelp. He trotted over to us to inspect the attractive stranger standing beside me. Jack bent down and scooped him up, holding him close to his chest.

“She's adorable,” Jack said. “What's her name?”

“
His
,” I said haughtily, as if by confusing my pet's gender he had somehow insulted my entire ancestral line. “His name is Famous.”

“Oh,” Jack said. “Interesting.”

Oh no. What if he didn't think that was interesting and he was just saying that? Like when someone goes “oh your child is an absolute angel” when everyone in the world can tell that little kid is the spawn of Satan. Not that I could do anything to fix the whole situation. It's not like I had consulted him before naming my dog. Plus, if Famous was a good enough name for Audrey Hepburn's pet, then it was good enough for Jack Anderson.

Jack was going on about how he had always wanted a puppy but someone in his family, I couldn't remember whom, was allergic to dogs. I was barely paying attention. I was focusing so hard on breathing normally; I was scared the veins on my forehead were bulging out. He looked like Mr. January in a
Hot Guys with Puppies
calendar, and my respiratory system was suffering as a result. I allowed myself one minute more of shameless lusting before roughly yanking Famous from Jack's grip.

“He doesn't like strangers.”

I placed Famous down on the floor, and he looked up at me. If dogs could give judgemental looks, he had definitely given me one before turning back to his chew toy.

“Your house is incredible,” Jack said, eyeing the chandelier hanging above the staircase. He seemed unfazed by my abruptness. “What is it, like, five stories?”

“Six,” I said curtly, leading him toward the elevator. The less I talked, the less chance I had of making a fool of myself.

“You have an elevator in your house?” Jack said, his eyes bright with excitement. It was weird to see him so surprised about something so mundane.

I pushed the “up” button on the elevator, which was positioned next to stairs, and the doors opened immediately. Great. Dad didn't want me “crossing lines”
but he had sent me to show Jack a bedroom. Nice thinking.

“Wait,” I said, my gaze dropping to Jack's empty hands. “You don't have any bags with you.”

“Oh, yeah, that's okay. I don't wear a lot when I'm sleeping,” he replied matter-of-factly.

I opened my mouth to say something but no words formed. I just stood there gaping at him. He didn't look like he was kidding. I surely hoped he wasn't.

“Right,” I said, nodding. “Of course. I read once that sleeping naked is actually good for your health and like, your brain network formations. I read that. In a magazine.”

The elevator doors closed again, as did my window for making Jack fall in love with my quick wit and flirtation skills. What the hell were network formations? It was like my mind had temporarily shut down, due to the image of Jack naked burnt into my temporal lobe. If brain network formations existed, I was missing a lot of them.

“I was kidding. The bags are in the car,” Jack said, clearly trying to suppress a smile. “Just . . . breaking the ice.”

“Right. Yeah, me too. Obviously.”

Somewhere in the heavens above, someone was slow clapping at my stupidity. The proverbial ice wasn't being broken; it was being repeatedly smashed against my head. I clasped my eyes shut for a few seconds, hoping my brain could delete the humiliation from my mind. No luck. We stood there staring at each other for a few seconds in silence, as I struggled to find my way out of the hole I kept digging for myself. Luckily it was Jack who broke the silence first.

“I know this is tough,” Jack said, suddenly becoming more serious. “It's natural to want to turn to friends in such a confusing time. But it really is important to keep this all quiet. At least until we figure out how serious this threat is.”

I watched him without saying a word, arms crossed against my chest protectively. Maybe that would be my way of putting up a battle. Complete silence. I figured I'd be so silent everyone would be scared that I had forgotten how to speak.

Jack looked at me awkwardly, fidgeting with his fingers. “So, final year of high school? That's exciting, right?”

“Listen, Jack,” I began, forcing the attitude back into my tone. “It's nothing personal, but if we're going to do this, then we're going to do this my way.”

The silence plan was a long shot anyway.

“Your way?” Jack repeated, giving me an amused look. He looked completely relaxed now, albeit slightly confused.

I nodded and said, “I don't know what my dad's told you, but there's no threat.”

“We were just told to keep you all safe, ‘round the clock.”

“Right, well that's not necessary,” I told him. “As you can see, I'm fine. I'm not dead. There's no one trying to kill me. I'm all good, so you can go back to New York now.”

I smiled at him warmly, hoping that I had done enough to send him packing.

“I'm sorry,” Jack said, looking at me as though he couldn't actually believe he was having this conversation. “But I'm not sure it works like that.”

My smile dropped. “Look, if this is going to work you have to stay out of my way, okay?”

“I'm not here to get in anyone's wa—”

“Well, good.”

I was putting so much effort into being haughty; I was coming across as borderline constipated. In reality I was scared I was already in love, and I had known the guy for all but ten minutes. My ego was only
just
winning against my hormones, and I didn't know how much longer that would last. I just had to concentrate on what I was saying so I wouldn't accidently ask him to father my children, and everything would be fine.

Jack opened his mouth, ready to say something, but then closed it. We watched each other in silence, waiting for one of us to make the first move.

“Your room,” I said, when I had finally had enough of the awkwardness. “Is two levels up. Choose any bedroom, whatever. I don't care. I'm on the floor just above us now. If you need anything, don't come to me. We have the help for that.”

I pushed the button on the elevator for what I hoped would be the last time for that encounter, taking a few steps away from it.

“Got it,” Jack said. He was smiling again, which was weird because I was coming across as a real psycho.

“It was nice to meet you, Jack.” I tried to make it sound like a goodbye; a heads up that he would be leaving as fast as he came in.

“Likewise,” he replied. Only he really looked like he meant it too.

Jack's eyes were practically burning holes through my eye sockets, but I couldn't yank my gaze away. My bodyguard wasn't meant to be a love interest in the romantic comedy I had invented in my mind! Not that I needed a new love interest in my life; I had a boyfriend. And we got along just fine. Sure, it wasn't a fireworks relationship, but, you know, I got by in life.