Page 4 of Lily and her Mercenary (CHANGING OF THE GUARDS)

Lily

I stood in my kitchen, arms folded, cast-iron pan clutched like a shield.

My pink robe over faded pajamas felt almost ridiculous—until I looked at him.

He stayed half hidden on the couch, that weird mixture of guilt and relief in his eyes.

Surveillance, private eyes, some cock-and-bull story about an ex owing him money—I knew he could have tried a dozen lies.

None would stick. The real explanation hovered between us.

But damn, he was sexy and well endowed. I couldn’t help but notice when I swapped out his pants for mine.

When he cleared his throat, I tightened my grip on the pan.

He said, “I was hired to watch you. Not by you or anyone you know. And not for anything criminal.” He winced, as if he’d just admitted the worst possible crime.

Then he tried to soften it: “Adult babysitting, but without the actual babies.” He glanced down at his legs.

“Also…why am I in these grey sweatpants?” He ran a hand through his hair. “They weren’t mine this morning.”

I studied him. His eyes said he wasn’t a threat, though his broad shoulders and the way my sweats clung to lean muscle said otherwise.

“Your pants were covered in dirt from my plants. I suppose I could have left you out there on the fire escape in the storm.” As if on cue, thunder clapped overhead, rattling the apartment windows.

Slowly, my fingers unclenched, and the pan clanked onto the counter.

“So,” I said, measuring each word, “you’re some kind of bodyguard? ”

“Not the kind who gets invited to dinner. Or ever meets the people they’re guarding. Usually.” He looked down, awkwardly.

Folding my arms across my chest, I said, “You’re terrible at being subtle.”

He tried to stand but got tangled in the unicorn blanket that had slid off the couch arm. He tucked it in his lap, cheeks flushed. “I haven’t hurt you,” he said, almost apologetically. “Sorry if I scared you. That wasn’t the goal.”

I leaned on the counter. “And the fake name at Marie’s? The professor get-up at the library? Sunglasses at the animal shelter?” I forced myself to meet his gaze, to ignore how his jaw flexed when he swallowed, or how his voice shook just a bit when he answered.

He shrugged. “Covers. Except that Royal is my brother’s name. As for the professor, we were in a library. I don’t think I would fit the bill as a librarian. Sunglasses help. It is easier for people to forget the details when you’re wearing them. But you’re…hard to forget.”

His compliment flicked something warm through me—amusement, maybe more.

I paced over to the window, stared out at the dark street, then turned back, pulling my tea mug close.

“If someone’s after me, shouldn’t you tell me who hired you?

Or why?” I could feel my pulse thumping, noticing how the light hit the planes of his face.

He shook his head. “I don’t get details. My employers love privacy.” He hesitated, then added, “If you want, I can be gone by sunrise. Pretend none of this happened.”

I sipped my tea and studied him over the rim of the mug, weighing the risk—and the undeniable pull I felt. Finally, I asked, “What’s the risk, then, if I keep you here?”

He blinked. Looked at his hands. At me. “You’re safe for now.”

His answer was so simple that it made me smile. I set the mug down and said, “Fine. But if you’re going to stick around, at least be useful. I need help grading kindergarten spelling tests.”

His eyebrows rose. Then he shifted on the couch and pressed a glittery star sticker to the first worksheet.

I watched something change in him; the tension in his shoulders disappeared.

I laughed at a child’s sloppy “KAT” with a backwards K.

He laughed too, and I realized he didn’t care about staying in character anymore.

A half hour later, he handed back the last test. I offered the couch for the night. He paused, as if to refuse, then gave me a small nod and picked the unicorn blanket up off the floor. At the doorway to my room, I hesitated. “Next time, just knock,” I said softly.

“Got it,” he murmured, voice low. My pulse leapt at the huskiness of it.

I closed the door and crawled into my bed, the absurdity of it all chasing away my unease: a former mercenary-minded stranger in grey sweatpants, now grading my kindergarten papers. I fell asleep to the city’s distant hum, a tiny, hopeful smile on my lips.

∞∞∞

The next morning, I stood at the stove pouring pancake batter into a frying pan. The sizzle of bacon burning in another pan must have woken him because he sprang from the couch and raced over, removing it from the flame.

Heat spread through me at his nearness. He was wearing a shirt when I had gone to bed, but now, in the soft light of morning, his bare chest is all I can see.

“Jesus, Lily,” he said. “The bacon looks like charcoal.”

“Sorry, I was distracted… by the pancake batter.”

“No worries, I like it burnt. Usually, not that burnt, but I’ll eat it anyway,” he said, with a grin, taking a stool at the island.

“At least the pancakes are fluffy.” I expertly piled them onto a plate and handed them to him. “You can stay as long as you need,” I said, setting a mug of coffee in front of him. “But no more tree-climbing, and definitely no guns in the living room.”

He nodded, cut into the stack. “Understood, ma’am.”

I grinned, leaning against the counter. “Call me Lily.”

He met my eyes, that same hesitant spark. We ate in silence until I leaned forward. “So. What’s the next move in Ryker’s adult Babysitting Academy?”

He lifted his fork, considered. “We wait. If someone shows up, I’ll know. If not… I’ll be out of your hair.”

I watched him, really watched him, and felt my heart stutter at the sight of him in those sweats, hair mussed, and God, that chest. “Ever think maybe you’re here for a reason?” I asked, almost shy.

He set his fork down. “No one hires me for fate. But I’m glad I landed here.”

I smiled, reached for construction paper and safety scissors. “Good,” I said. “Because I have three hundred baby chicks to cut out before 9:00 AM.

He pushed his plate aside and reached for the construction paper and scissors, glitter glue at the ready. And in that quiet morning light, I believed he might just be here to stay.

Ryker

Two days later at five in the morning, my phone buzzed on the table while I was sucking blood from my finger.

“Yeah?” It was Royal. “Make it quick, I have a hundred more cutouts to do.”

"She's got you doing arts and crafts? She's better than I thought."

His voice crackled through the phone speaker. I tucked it between my shoulder and ear while I pressed a Band-Aid to my finger. Cardstock and glitter covered the kitchen table, remnants of helping Lily with school projects.

"She knows I'm here," I said, pulling the phone closer, "so I figured I'd make myself useful."

"Useful? Sounds like she's already pulled you into her web of construction paper and fingerpaints."

I bit back a retort, looking over at the sleeping form on the couch. She’d insisted I stay the night again, though I hadn’t argued too hard. "If she didn't want me here, she would have kicked me out."

"And the boyfriend gig you're running?"

I paused, glancing at the pile of cut-out letters on the table. She’d teased me last night for organizing them alphabetically. "I slept on the floor last night."

"You better have."

"Fuck off," I said, keeping my voice low.

Royal laughed. "Still the same old Ryker. Listen, I've got something for you. Declan might have another job lined up. High profile. Big payoff. As soon as you're done playing house, he'll want us back."

I didn't answer right away. The thought of leaving Lily was like a fist punch to the gut.

"Ryker?"

"Yeah. I'll keep you posted."

"Good. And hey—watch your ass out there. I was talking to Rory, and if what he tells me is right, things could get messy, real quick."

“What was he telling you?”

“Just that it’s best to keep extra close to Lily because some guy named Matheson has his eye on her.”

My brows snapped together. “What the hell does that even mean?”

“No clue. It’s a good thing you’re staying close, though.”

He hung up before I could ask anything more. I set the phone down, frowning at the trail of glitter on the screen. Next to it sat Lily’s kitchen timer, counting down the minutes before her alarm went off.

I stayed at the table, cutting out letters and shapes, filling her apartment with pinks and yellows and blues. When the timer buzzed, I shut it off before it could wake her. She stirred on the couch, blinking at me with sleepy eyes.

"Morning," she mumbled, pushing tangled hair out of her face.

"Morning," I said. "Coffee?"

She nodded, wrapping the unicorn blanket around her shoulders. "I have a busy day," she said, her voice still soft from sleep. "Field trip to the aquarium. Want to come? I could always use an extra volunteer."

I poured two mugs and carried them over. "Sure, how bad can it be?”