Page 32 of Defending You
He nodded slowly, a grimace crossing his features as if he didn’t like the taste of that idea. Finally, he said, “I’d like to think I can get there on my own merits.”
“Don’t worry about that. My dad won’t recommend you without cause. This—saving my life, keeping me safe—is cause.”
He made a sound low in his throat that might have been agreement.
They poked along on the narrow road, passing through a small town. It was a beautiful, sunny Saturday, one of the last days of the summer, and traffic was building as they skirted the north edge of the Boston metro.
“How about you?” Asher asked. “Why jewelry?”
“I wish I could say something…corny. You know, like I wanted to provide gemstones to the needy.”
He chuckled, and the sound buoyed her spirits. She liked that she could make him laugh.
She couldn’t help but be a little self-conscious about her life choices. Here she was with a man who used the worddutyin everyday language while she spent her time assessing baubles.
“You built a business and fulfill a need.” Asher glanced her way. “As long as your work is honest, your work is valuable.”
“That’s a good way to look at it.”
Silence reigned until he prompted again. “So…why jewelry?”
“We went to a festival when I was seven or eight, and there was a jewelry store where you could watch the jewelers work through the windows. I was mesmerized. I remember thinking how lucky those people were to get to work with such beautiful stones.”
“But you don’t design jewelry, right? Or do you?”
“I did, back in high school, but I couldn’t afford real gemstones, and working with crystals and colored glass didn’tdo it for me. I realized my real passion lay with the stones themselves. I find it fascinating the way they’re formed deep in the earth. Think of it. These bits of minerals and chemicals surrounded by dirt and rock. But because there’s just the right amount of pressure, just the right amount of those minerals and chemicals, little bits of seemingly random things turn into rubies or sapphires or emeralds. I mean, it’s amazing.”
He flicked his gaze toward her hand, and she figured he was looking at all the jewelry she’d put back on that morning.
She was always scouring estate sales and pre-owned cases at the stores she visited, looking for deals. And she often found them. Her ability to appraise gemstones made it easy for her to skim past the trash and home in on the treasures.
“It’s good you do something you love.” His tone held no irony or scorn. He seemed genuine, which she appreciated.
“It’s not important like what you do.”
“It’s important. That ruby necklace in your purse is important to the Ballentine family. An heirloom. I bet there are people who appreciate being able to put a value to what they own, maybe even raise money to pay their bills.”
“My mother always told us to follow our passion, that God gave us passions for a reason. I think she was paraphrasing someone else, but she once said, ‘Maybe your dreams aren’t dreams at all. Maybe they’re God’s to-do list.’” Cici shrugged, feeling self-conscious. “No idea why God cares about jewelry, but I guess He cares about what we care about. Anyway, I took Mom’s advice. I mean, you have to spend forty hours a week or more at work. You might as well enjoy it.”
“And you do.”
“I love it.”
“Forty hours?”
She laughed. “More than that most of the time, and of course there are aspects to my job that I don’t like. Writing reports isn’t fun. But what job is a hundred percent enjoyable?”
“None that I’ve found.”
“You like being a bodyguard?”
“Most of the time. For me, the hard parts are usually related to the people I’m guarding.”
“Oh, no. I hope you don’t consider me one of the hard parts.”
“You’re not on that list.” He chuckled, his smile transforming his face. “Yet.”
“Thanks for the ‘yet.’”
