Page 5 of Wrecked (McIntyre Security Bodyguard #16)
Saturday morning, I get a text message from Shane, asking me if I’m at the hotel.
When I tell him yes, he says he’s sending over a courier with my employment documentation, which I need to read, sign, and return to the office on Monday at one o’clock for a new hire orientation.
He tells me there will be a sign-on bonus in the package, as well as keys to my apartment, which is ready anytime I want it.
Cool. I officially have my own apartment in Chicago.
And I’m getting a sign-on bonus, which is news to me. Shane didn’t mention that yesterday.
Thirty minutes later, there’s a knock on my hotel door. When I look through the peep hole, I find a uniformed delivery person on the other side.
“Hey,” I say as I crack open the door.
An older man asks, “Are you Sam Harrison?”
“Yep.”
He hands me a padded envelope. “This is for you, sir, from McIntyre Security.”
“Thanks, man.” I close the door and go sit on the bed to open the envelope. Inside is an employment agreement I have to sign, a keyring with two keys on it, and a check, made out to me, for ten-freaking-grand!
No effing way!
There’s a handwritten note clipped to the check.
Welcome aboard, Sam. This check should help you settle in and make Chicago your new home. – Shane
After I scan the check to deposit it via my banking app, I get ready to go check out my new digs.
* * *
I have to admit I’m excited. As I wait in line to check out of the hotel, I marvel at how my life has changed over the past year. I went from lying devastated in a hospital bed to a three-month stay in rehab to crashing at my mom’s house to now having a brand new job in a brand new city.
I hand the guy behind the counter my hotel key cards.
He checks my account. “No charge, sir. Everything’s been paid for.”
McIntyre Security spares no expenses. I could get used to this.
I drive over to the McIntrye apartment building, which isn’t far from where I’m at now. I park in the front lot and walk inside to find a fancy lobby with polished marble floors, stylish modern furniture, and lots of potted trees and flower boxes everywhere. There’s even a fountain.
“Can I help you, sir?” asks a young blonde seated at the security desk.
“Sam Harrison. I’m moving in today.” I show her my key ring.
“Welcome to the building, Mr. Harrison. We’ve been expecting you.
” She opens one of her desk drawers and pulls out a keycard and a brochure.
“Here you go, sir. Your apartment is on the forty-eighth floor. You can use that card to swipe yourself through the security gate. The brochure lists all the amenities of the building. We have on-site laundry, a convenience store with essentials, a workout room, and an indoor-outdoor pool. And, of course, we have a full-service concierge on duty 24/7 to make any arrangements you might need.”
Fancy. “Thanks.”
As I take an elevator up to my floor, I skim the brochure. There’s a layout of my apartment. Two bedrooms, two bathrooms. It’s nice I’ll have a guest bedroom when my sister or mom comes to visit.
After leaving the elevator, I head left and find my unit all the way at the end of the hall. My first impression of the building is good. The carpet is pristine. The walls are nicely painted and decorated with gorgeous landscape paintings.
I unlock the door to my unit and step inside. It smells good in here, a faint lemony smell. I guess someone cleaned recently. The curtains are open and a lot of natural light is coming through. It’s not big, but it’s classy.
The door opens right into the living room, which looks like something out of a home decorating magazine.
The general color scheme is gray and white.
There’s a gray sofa, a matching oversize armchair with an ottoman, and a recliner.
On top of a long coffee table in front of the sofa is a round woven basket holding the remote control for the TV.
Speaking of the TV… it’s a big one, perched on top of a long, dark wooden console, perfect for watching sports or movies or playing video games. This whole setup would be perfect for inviting friends over, if I had any.
The apartment has an open floor plan, so I can see right into the kitchen, with its fancy gray granite counters, dark wood cabinets, and stainless steel appliances.
There’s just one hallway, and I imagine it leads to the bedrooms and bathrooms.
The medium gray carpet throughout looks new, and I don’t see any scuff marks on the walls or dings in the woodwork.
Thank goodness the apartment comes fully furnished because I own nothing but some clothes, my laptop, phone, and some books. I went straight into the Army out of high school, so I never really acquired any furniture or many belongings besides what I could easily carry with me.
I make a quick sweep of the apartment to check out the appliances. I open the fridge door, and I’m not surprised to find it empty. I guess I’ll need to go grocery shopping this afternoon.
There’s a dishwasher and a microwave, and of course a stove and oven. There are even two different coffee makers—the kind you program overnight and the kind that uses those little pods to make coffee instantly.
A small pantry off the kitchen has a washer and dryer unit, a vacuum cleaner, and lots of shelving for storage.
Hopefully I can talk my sister into coming to visit me this summer. She’s never been to Chicago, and I’m sure she’d love to see it.
All the windows offer great views of the city. From the balcony off the living room, I can see Lake Michigan in the distance, including the crowded public beach and the walking paths.
As I head back out to the living room, I’m thinking this is undoubtedly the nicest place I’ve had to call home since leaving my mom’s house. I plop down on the dark gray sofa—which is very comfortable—and stretch out. It’s long enough that I can lie down, all six feet of me.
But before I can get too comfortable, there’s a knock at the door. I have no idea who it could be since I hardly know a soul in the city.
Before I even make it to the door, there’s a second knock, this one a bit louder and more impatient.
“Hold your horses! I’m coming!”
I glance out the peep hole and see a handsome face with a pair of steely blue eyes and trim, gray hair and beard staring back at me. My heart starts pounding.
My God, that man is ridiculously hot.
Before he can knock again, I open the door. I feel like I should say something, but ‘What in the hell are you doing here?’ seems a bit harsh considering I hardly know him. I’d hate to get fired for insubordination before I even put in any time on the job.
Cooper seems almost uncomfortable as he stares at me.
The drawn-out quiet gets to me. “Can I help you?”
“I heard Shane gave you keys to the apartment. I was just wondering if you’d seen it.”
I step aside so he can see past me into the living room. “I’ve seen it.”
Cooper peers inside, then back at me, and I wonder if he’s expecting me to ask him to come in. God, I’m so tempted. There’s something about this guy that draws me in. I’m the moth; he’s the flame. The only problem is, I have a feeling this flame is going to burn me if I’m not careful.
And after the way he pulled back from me at the shooting range after asking me if I’d ever kissed a man, I can’t even imagine why he’s here.
The words ‘do you want to come in?’ are on the tip of my tongue, so I take an evasive maneuver for self-protection. “Actually, I was just heading out,” I tell him as I step out into the hall and close the door behind me.
He nods. “Where to?”
Where am I going? I have no fucking clue. Just anywhere this guy isn’t.
Since he seems to be waiting for an answer, I go with the first thing that pops into my head. “I need groceries.”
As he nods, his gaze locks onto mine, and the tension thickens.
That old Katy Perry song comes to mind—how does it go? Something like, He’s hot, then he’s cold. He’s yes, then he’s no. He’s in, then he’s out.
I wait, curious to see which mood he’s in right now. Hot or cold?
But he doesn’t say a word.
I’m tired of playing this game. I don’t have time for guys who don’t know what they want. I give him a moment, hoping to see a sign of some emotion besides indifference. No such luck. “I guess I’ll see you around.”
He nods curtly. “Yeah. I’ll see you.”
I walk toward the elevator and push the button to go down. When the doors open and I step inside, he follows me in.
He stands beside me and faces the doors. “There’s a nice little family-owned grocery store just a couple of blocks away. They sell quality fresh produce, fish, and meat. I’d be happy to show you.”
Mr. Hot-and-Cold wants to go grocery shopping with me? Seriously?
Part of me wants to say no—for the sake of my sanity.
But another part of me is dying to spend time with him and get to know him better.
I swear, honestly, he’s the most attractive man I’ve ever met.
He’s everything I look for in a man—he’s older and, well, he’s bossy as hell. And for some reason, that turns me on.
“Sure. Why not?” I try to come across as nonchalant. I try to sound casual, but the teenager-me is giddy with excitement because the dominant older boy wants to spend time with me.
Cooper pushes the button for the underground garage. “I’ll drive,” he says in a gruff voice that threatens to make my knees buckle. It’s not a question or even a suggestion. It’s just a given that he’s going to drive.
And I am so okay with that.
An image of me on my knees before him flashes through my mind, me opening my mouth and taking him in deep. Cooper thrusting hard and fast, demanding, fisting my hair, groaning and growling because it feels so damn good. I give really good head, if I do say so myself.
That image morphs into another one of me on a bed, on my hands and knees with Cooper behind me, spreading me open and— fuck!
I realize the elevator has stopped and the door is open. Cooper’s halfway out, holding the door and staring back at me with an odd expression on his face. “Are you comin’, kid?” Suddenly, he’s got a southern accent.
My face heats up, turning beet red, I’m sure. I step out of the elevator and head toward the Escalade. “Sorry. I was, uh, sorry.”
I hear his quiet chuckle as he takes his sweet time sauntering over to the big SUV. By the time he’s behind the wheel, I’m already in my seat, buckled in.
As he starts the engine, he gives me a heated look, and now I’m wondering if he’s a mind reader. It’s almost like he knows what I was thinking back there.
He shakes his head as if to clear it. “Let’s go get you some groceries.”