4

Hailey

Every muscle in my body ached, not just my wounded shoulder. I used every ounce of energy to fight off… well, my bodyguard. I rolled my eyes, thinking how silly that sounded. But it told me two things. First, he was not afraid to step up and protect me, even in dangerous situations like a break-in. And second, I was extremely weak. Like, I had no muscle mass to defend myself.

As I pulled on a pair of black running shorts, I made a mental note to add weightlifting to the rigorous routine my trainer had me on. His goal was to keep me fit so I could dance and sing on stage, but I wanted more. I wanted strong arms and legs to defend myself, too.

A tune wormed its way through my thoughts and I hummed the melody out loud.

Mmm… that sounded pretty good.

I pulled out my phone and recorded the melody in a voice note. I would test it out in the studio later.

As I turned the corner into the kitchen, I stopped short. A man stood in front of the stove, with a spatula in hand and a gun tucked inside the back of his black pants. His short brown hair was buzzed at the sides, which made his dark eyes and eyebrows stand out.

"Breakfast?" he asked when he saw me standing there with my mouth open.

"Uh…" I was stunned and speechless. He had a gnarly bruise on the side of his face and two black eyes, possibly from a broken nose, if the red line over the bridge was any indication.

"Uh… I don't usually eat breakfast." I stepped further into the kitchen and watched him shake the frying pan. "Um… I thought you said you were my bodyguard."

"Yes."

I stared pointedly at the steaming scrambled eggs he scooped up and dropped onto a plate. "But we both have to eat, don't we?"

Good point . I usually grabbed a coffee after my run, but this could be good, too.

I took the plate he offered and sat at the kitchen island.

"Orange juice?" he asked, opening my fridge. His obvious comfort in my kitchen was, well, a little discomforting.

"Suuure."

He poured me a glass and set it in front of me. His gaze roamed over my body. "Are you going somewhere?"

I gulped down the first sip. "Yeah. I'm going for a run." I shoved a forkful of eggs into my mouth. Mmm… that's delicious.

He looked down at his suit pants and white shirt and nodded. "All right. Just give me five minutes to change."

"Wait. You're coming with me?"

His brow furrowed. "Of course. Wherever you go, I go. That's how this works, Hailey."

"Oh."

"Did you run alone often?"

I snorted. "If by often, you mean all the time? Then, yes."

He dropped the frying pan into the sink and shook his head. "I don't like it when bodyguards slack off. If you're not going to do the job right, then don't do it at all. Someone's life depends on it."

I agreed, but not just with guarding. You should either be the best version of yourself, or you should try something else.

After rinsing the dishes and putting them in the dishwasher, he stepped out of the kitchen. I watched him walk away and admired the way his broad back narrowed toward his waist. I rested my chin on my hand.

He's the best-looking bodyguard I'd ever seen.

A song lyric popped into my head and I pulled out my phone to write it down. I sang the line with the melody from earlier and smiled. Yeah, I liked that.

A few minutes later, he stood at the kitchen entrance with a white t-shirt and gray jogging pants. I gulped.

"All right. Are you ready to go?" I looked at the last forkful of eggs and knew I would regret leaving them behind. So, I scooped them up against the side of the plate, and through a mouthful of eggs, I said, "Ready."

He grinned, and I had some difficulty swallowing for a second as I took in every detail of his new outfit.

"Coming?" he asked, waiting at the open front doors.

I nodded and jogged right past him. He quickly caught up and soon our breaths matched as our feet pounded against the pavement.

Neither of us spoke, but it felt nice having someone next to me. Usually, I would take a break by this point and walk, but he stared straight ahead without even a bead of sweat or any hint of perspiration on his skin.

I stared at the top of the hill and dug deep for some extra motivation.

Ten minutes later, a cramp shot through my side and I slowed down to a walk, with both hands on my hips. After sucking in deep breath after deep breath, the pain receded.

"Are you okay?" he asked, watching my face. He looked genuinely concerned about my well-being.

"You know, I don't even know your name."

He blinked and shook his head. "Shit. Sorry." Then he stretched out his hand. "The name is Christian. Christian Machado."

"Pleased to meet you," I said and smiled.

"Shall we walk back home?"

I turned around and estimated the distance back to my place and groaned. "Yes, please."

He chuckled, and we turned and walked the five miles toward my house.

"You're in great shape. It's not just your stamina. I can tell from your tight shirt, too." I was fishing for his workout routine, but realized my comments sounded a little inappropriate. It sounded like I was hitting on my bodyguard. I groaned a little inside, embarrassed at my lack of tact.

Christian seemed unphased. "I work out every day. It's important in my business. I may need to chase someone down or fight them off."

"From what I felt last night, you'll be fine." My face reddened, hearing my slip. "I meant, saw, from what I saw last night. I didn't feel your arms or anything. Well, of course, I felt your arms they were around my body, but I—"

He grinned, and I noticed his straight teeth over smooth lips. "I get it, Hailey. You don't have to explain yourself."

Thank god, I was only making it worse .

By the time we reached my front door, sweat dripped down my back and neck. "I'm going to hop in the shower before heading over to the studio."

"Me, too. I'll meet you in the foyer in twenty minutes."

I stared at his dry, perfect skin. He had great skin—nice color, perfect complexion. This man reminded me of those models I met at the Armani show in Milan last summer. Too good to be true. That proved to be the case with the models later in the evening. I was sure I would discover Christian's faults soon enough.

For now, he was a good bodyguard. The best one I'd ever had. My other bodyguards were more concerned about their phones or their food. I still remember their coffee orders and which toppings they liked on their pizzas.

I showered and put on black sweatpants and a black hoodie and waited for Christian out front. He strode into the foyer, wearing a full navy suit and white shirt. The shirt had no crease in it and hugged his body.

Immediately, I felt underdressed.

Should I change?

I shook my head. No. This is what I always wore to the studio.

"Ready?" he asked, holding a set of keys as he waited by the front door.

As I walked up to him, I stretched out my hand. He grinned but gave me the keys, anyway. I stared at the warm metal and recognized the set for my red sports car. "How did you know?"

"From the shade of your lip gloss," he said, staring down at my mouth.

I pressed my lips together and ran my tongue over the sticky substance. What did my lip gloss have to do with my car?

Men. I shrugged and followed him out the door.

***

My producer Tessa sat in front of the dials, mixing tracks as I walked into the downtown music studio. A Lakers baseball cap covered her short pink hair while large sunglasses covered her face. "Hailey, baby, come listen to this."

She waved me over, and I stood behind her and watched as she worked her magic.

She pressed play, and I nodded along to the rhythm. "I like it. I wrote down some lyrics this morning. I think this will work."

She hummed back the melody to me. It was perfect.

I hugged her from behind, and she grabbed my arms and squeezed. "How are you? I heard you got messed up at JJ's ."

I sighed. "Yeah, but I'm fine. Just a little sore."

"You're a tough one, baby. A lot of people don't know that about you." She swiveled in her chair to look at me, but her gaze snapped to my left.

Pulling her sunglasses down to the bridge of her nose, she stared at Christian. "Now, who is this?"

She hadn't asked in a pissed-off way, as I would have expected. Tessa didn't like anyone trespassing in her studio. She was quite territorial about her sounds and trusted no one. But with Christian, she didn't seem to mind.

In fact, judging by the way she licked her lips, she welcomed his presence in her space.

I cleared my throat at the heightened level of sexual tension in the room. "Tessa, this is my new bodyguard, Christian. Christian, this is my producer, Tessa."

Christian nodded, and Tessa licked her lips again, giving Christian a single nod back. Only hers seemed more like an invitation.

"So, should we try this out with some of my new lyrics?"

Reluctantly, Tessa swiveled back and stared at the notebook I laid on the table. For a few minutes, she tapped a finger to her lips and nodded her head to a rhythm that none of us could hear. Then she swiveled her chair to face her keyboard. She played the riff again, this time adding new notes to the melody line.

Yes, that was hot. I sang my lyrics aloud acapella, adding new lines that popped into my head as I went.

"Ooh, baby, that's good. Write that shit down."

I laughed and scribbled the words inside the notebook as quickly as I could."

We vibed like that for a while; me feeding off the music, and Tessa feeding off of me until we had a chorus and three verses.

A couple of hours later, we were working on the bridge when my manager, Frankie, walked in. "Hailey, good to see you, Hun. How are you feeling?"

"I'm goo—"

"That's great, really great. Now, listen. We got a call from the producers of The Harriet King Show and they had a cancellation and want you to fill in."

Frankie clapped his hands and then placed them on his hips, waiting for my response.

"That's, uh, that's great. When is it?"

He ran a hand through his disheveled, dirty blonde hair and turned away from my gaze. "It's tomorrow morning."

"Tomorrow?" I repeated. "No, that's impossible. I can't do it."

I listed all the reasons why. "Tessa and I are busy working on the next album. I haven't trained my vocals for a live performance in weeks, and I don't know which song I'm doing or rehearsed any dance moves to perform in front of a live audience. I'm not ready."

"You're ready, sweetheart. You've got this."

I stared at him incredulously. "You saying I'm ready doesn't make it true. It doesn't even make me feel better. What would make me feel better would be if I had time to prepare for my debut performance on the largest talk show in America right now."

He put his hands on my arms and squeezed. "That's right, it's the largest show, and we can't say no, Hailey. They might never invite you back if you refuse."

I closed my eyes and groaned. Was he right? Was I blowing my shot? I might offend the producers if I turned down the opportunity. I didn't have a good excuse, like being on tour or out of town. I hated being unprepared, but I didn't want to regret this.

"Fine. But right after my session with Tessa, we are prepping for this appearance all afternoon and night if we have to."

"Of course, sweetheart. Of course. Fabulous, I'll let the show know." He turned on his white sneakers and left.

My gaze caught Christian's face as he stared at Frankie's retreat. His eyes narrowed.

"All right, let's finish up the bridge," said Tessa, and I tried to concentrate on the song. But it was hopeless. My heart pounded in my chest just thinking about singing in front of the entire country tomorrow, with only a few hours to rehearse.