Page 65 of The Bodyguard

Delighted shrieks ensued again. Angela smiled. He did too.

“Give me a minute. Football duty calls.”

“Take your time,” she replied. “I’m going to dry off and search for my dignity.”

So she hadn’t forgotten about the kiss. He didn’t know what to say, so he winked. “It’s probably with mine.”

Angela laughed.Thank God.

He jogged toward the kids. “You guys wanna throw the ball?”

They mostly screeched and shrieked instead of talking, but he rolled with it, tossing the football back and forth. Sometimes Sawyer pitched it high toward the overhead sun and let itdivebomb straight into the sand. Other times, he jogged circles around the kids, faking them this way and that. Most often, the kids didn’t come close to landing a catch. But when they did, Sawyer joined in the celebration like they had caught Super-Bowl-winning touchdowns.

He bowed out of another round of toss when the kids were called for more sunscreen, and his stomach growled.

Angela clapped for him as he jogged back. “Who knew you had such skills?”

Sawyer held out a hand and helped her up. “I grew up playing with anything with a ball. Football. Basketball. Soccer. I’m a regular jack-of-all-trades.”

“No, I mean with little kids. You’re a natural.”

He glanced over his shoulder. The kids squirmed as their parents slathered them in sunblock. Yeah, he was good with kids and had always thought so. “They’re fun.”

“Do you have any younger siblings?

“Nope.” He gave Angela a once-over. “You look like you could use sunscreen too.”

“You always change the subject when it comes to you,” she chided.

“Do I?” He shrugged. “Are you hungry?”

“See?” She pointed at him but admitted, “I’m starving.”

“Then let’s go eat.”

They picked up the pace toward their beach house. His mind drifted in circles, from kissing Angela to avoiding conversations. He checked over his shoulder again but couldn’t see anyone they’d left behind on the beach. If life hadn’t broken him down, would he be one of the families who dotted the beach, playing in the sand and surf? Sawyer didn’t see why not.

They arrived at their beach house and used the outdoor shower to wash off the sand.

“Oh, that’s cold.” Angela rubbed sand off her legs where his hands had just been. Sawyer bit his tongue before offering to help and then took his time with his much-needed cold shower.

As sand-free as they could manage, they sluiced off and dripped inside into the air conditioning. Shivering, Angela rushed upstairs. “I need a minute in hot water.”

He walked into the bathroom on the main floor, confident she’d take more than a minute. Sawyer showered away the salt water and was dressed before the water in the upstairs bathroom was turned off. He studied the law enforcement reports while he waited.

They held nothing but the facts. Two dead bodies. Gunshot wounds. Identification had been found for Mark Hathaway and Tabby Foster, Mylene’s husband and sister.

Mark and Mylene. He played the married couple’s name over in his head. The names sounded good together. Mark and Tabby? That sounded just as nice but would have been a shit move.

Sawyer picked up a photo dated a year before the murders. Mark and Mylene looked good together too, though looks could be deceiving. Had this man been sleeping with his wife’s sister? The photograph wouldn’t tell Sawyer anything. Neither would Angela’s toothbrush theory.

As he tossed the photo onto the table, footsteps came down the stairs.

“Okay, that took more than a minute,” Angela said, entering the room. “But I rushed.” Damp hair hung over her shoulders. “Sort of.” Her cheeks were too rosy from the time she and Sawyer had spent on the beach. “I need to go buy a bottle of aloe after we eat. My shoulders.” She peeled the neck of her shirt down. “Might hurt later.”

Angry skin surrounded her fair tan line. “Ouch,” he said.

“Could be worse.” She scanned the table. “Has anything jumped out at you?”

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