Page 5 of Tate
She scrolled down and looked closer—yes, this shot caught Tate in the wings, those blue eyes pinned to her, his arms folded across his chest as if on watch for danger.
But he looked stripped, something raw and vulnerable on his handsome face.
Oh, it could wreck her all over again, seeing this powerful, brave man undone.
She blamed it on the song. The stupid, sappy, tear-her-heart-out song that Kelsey made her sing tonight. A chart-topper that Glo had written after the man she loved had died in the sands of Afghanistan.
One she hadn’t been able to sing until tonight as she’d glanced at the wings, at Tate, and realized that maybe her heart had healed, just a little.
Tate had done that with his frustrating, charming smile. Those devastating blue eyes, the way he laughed at her jokes and didn’t let her rile him.
The way he was both dangerous and safe and exactly the man she’d waited for.
Yes, this could really hurt.
And it was all Kelsey’s fault.
Glo pushed her speed dial and wandered out to the bedroom as Kelsey’s phone rang. She heard a strange thump emitting from the next room and imagined it might be the room service cart bumping the door.
“Are you okay?” Kelsey came on the line without a preamble. She sounded a little breathless. And now Glo felt like a jerk.
But, “No.”
A pause, and Glo realized— “Sorry, yes. There are no domestic terrorists on my doorstep ready to kidnap me.”
A forced chuckle on the other end, and maybe it wasn’t a funny joke because, well, they’d all survived a domestic bombing a few weeks ago and… “It’s not that. I…” Her voice dropped, turned to a whisper. “I kissed Tate.”
Now a real chuckle emerged through the line, and she heard her admission whispered to someone else, probably Knox. She could imagine her friend, hand in hand with the tall Montana rancher, her dark hair caught in the night air, her eyes finally free of the fear that had held her hostage for the past twelve years.
Glo should probably hang up. Nearly did, but Kelsey came back on the line. “Okay, so, it’s about time?—”
“He works for us!” Glo stepped up to the window. The fountains had begun their hourly dance, pulsing to “Singin’ in the Rain.” The water rose and fell in time, cascading from one end of the massive trough to the other.
The music filtered through the phone. Beyond the fountains and across the street, a miniature Eiffel Tower glittered, its lights blinking against the night.
“So fire him,” Kelsey said.
“That’s a little harsh, Kels. This is hisjob. Besides, we need him.”
“Glo.” Kelsey must have cupped her hand over the phone because the music muted. “There comes a time in every girl’s life when she has to take a chance on love. To stop living in fear that it’s all going to crumble, and start over. To trust a little in love. C’mon. We both know his working for us isn’t why you’re—where are you?”
“I’m in my room. Hiding.”
“Stop hiding. Stop running.”
Glo wanted to raise an eyebrow because, really? This from the woman who had turned running into a full-time career?
But maybe that’s what love did. Made you brave and strong and willing to start over.
“Tate is crazy about you.”
“Tate could get killed. Whoever bombed the venue in San Antonio was trying to discourage my mother from continuing her run for presidency. They were afterme, and they haven’t been caught. Which means that every minute Tate hangs around me, he’s in danger.”
“He’s abodyguard.He signed up for this.”
“Besides,” came a male voice through the phone, and clearly Knox was listening in, “Tate knows how to handle himself.”
Another bump came from the other room, this time with a shout.
