Page 64 of Tempting the Player
We sit there in silence, me feeling guilty, and him probably pissed and more stressed.
I feel awful, and I guess I should. “I know that it’s your job to protect me, but sometimes I just want you to see me as a girl and not your client.”
“I see you. All of you. But it doesn’t help anything if you keep things like this to yourself.” He hands my phone back. “Are there any more?”
“No. Just the one.”
“Any other things that have happened at home or on campus?”
I shake my head.
“Nothing that’s given you pause?” He presses. “Anything at all? Even if you think it’s not related.”
I start to say no but then think of Clint. “Maybe, actually. It could be nothing.”
“Let me be the judge of that.”
“About a month ago my ex liked one of my photos on Instagram.” It sounds dumb when I say it out loud, but Hendrick doesn’t brush it off. “The night of the party, actually.”
“The same night someone was in your room?”
“Yes.” I swallow around a lump in my throat. It hadn’t occurred to me until now that both of those things happened on the same day.
“This is the guy who stalked you after you broke up, right?”
“How do you...” I trail off. “My parents.”
He has enough sympathy to look apologetic. “Before I started the job, they gave me some background on the situation with Clint and a few other threats you received while in L.A.”
“None of it ever amounted to anything. Bullies behind a keyboard, mostly. Same as whoever sent the email, probably.”
“You might be right, but I’m still going to have Logan look into it. Forward me the email and then block and delete. E. Rex Sean,” he mutters. “Clever.”
Hearing the name out loud finally makes it click.
“Oh my god. Erection!” I shout a little too loudly for In-N-Out.
“Just now piecing that together?”
“I feel like such an idiot. Again. I was so worried about not telling you and then equally worried about telling you and dropping more shit on your lap when you already have so much else going on. For a stupid prank email.”
He reaches across the table and stops my rambling with his touch. Those strong hands and those long fingers with rough edges. “You’re not an idiot and you don’t know if it’s a prank.”
“E. Rex Sean?” I say again, still pissed at myself for being scared of some jerk who has the maturity of a sixth grader. Fuck, it might be a sixth grader.
“You’re not an idiot,” he repeats. “I grew up in a house of boys. Perverted names were one of our many specialties.”
I laugh at that, though I struggle to picture Hendrick as a kid making jokes about erections. He seems like a guy that’s always carried the weight of the world on his shoulders.
“Thank you,” I say softly. “And I’m—”
“Don’t say sorry. It’s literally my job.”
I fall quiet because everything I want to say is me apologizing more.
“And also,” he says, voice low. “Even if it wasn’t my job, I’d do whatever I could to keep you safe.”
* * *
