The Bodyguard: A BWWM Bad Body Romance(36)
“What was that?”
Hank merely eyed her intensely a moment before he rose from his chair, dwarfing the living room - and her - with his bulk. “Don’t leave on my account. I’m just gonna have a beer and watch the game. You do...whatever you were gonna do.”
Juliet stared at him, torn between disbelief and amusement. Was that his socially-inept way of inviting her to watch TV with him? If she didn’t know any better, she’d think Hank was trying to be nice to her.
Her train of thought must have showed on her face, as Hank resumed his signature scowl within seconds. “Don’t get any ideas. I just want you where I can watch you.”
In opposition to the first week they’d been cooped up in the cabin, where he hadn’t wanted her in his sight. Juliet did her best to hide the smile that threatened. “Right.” She stepped forward to pluck the bottle from his hands and her thighs tightened as his sharp, masculine scent enveloped her. “I’ll get us some more beers then. And ice, for your face.”
His mouth softening somewhat, Hank’s gaze lingered on her for a moment before he dropped back into his chair. “Yeah, OK. Fine.”
Juliet could feel the man squinting at her as she made her way into the kitchen. She was suddenly giddy, and she had no idea why. Perhaps it was because she and Hank had handled an interaction without going for one another’s throats. Maybe she was relieved he hadn’t been added to Solomon’s long list of victims.
Or maybe...maybe she was just happy to see him. The notion was completely ludicrous, of course. She didn’t even like him - his body and the way he made love to her certainly, but not him. Who in their right mind could like Hank Compton?
It was absolutely out of the question.
Chapter 8: Unavoidable
He liked her.
It was a hard realization for Hank to come to, and certainly one that had taken him a week or two of grousing and arguing with his inner self to come to, but he didn’t think there was any avoiding it now. Juliet Brown was a fucking likeable person, despite Hank’s best efforts to convince himself otherwise.
It was more unsettling to him because the list of people he liked was so short and less because of the actual woman herself. Truth be told, if he’d had to pull lots for a roommate on an assignment, he could have done much worse.
Simmons had suggested that Hank take a breather for a while before he went in again to let his name sift through the ranks of the Aguiler’s hired muscle. In that time, there was little for him to do besides twiddle his thumbs and watch Juliet - and Hank had never been very much of a thumb twiddler.
Certainly, there was paperwork. Hank was supposed to write reports on Juliet’s behavior, as well as record anything of importance she might mention, but she wasn’t exactly enthusiastic to talk about her eight years with Solomon. They’d have enough of that at her next session. Until then, he found himself noticing little things about her - things he’d been too busy to notice when she’d been parading around the kitchen naked.
Juliet was an early riser. She was almost always up before seven every morning, which he was grateful for because it meant his ass didn’t have to cook breakfast. They’d fallen into a kind of routine: she cooked and he did the dishes. When they ordered takeout, he paid and she cleaned up. Juliet spent a lot of time in her room, and, for a few days, Hank wondered if it was because she was avoiding him. While things were amicable between them, neither of them had forgotten their mind blowing night together. Hank, in particular, was reminded of it every time Juliet crossed his line of vision. When she wasn’t around, he hungered for the sight of her - which, of course, sent him out of his way when he was supposed to be minding his own business.
Hank had quite been unprepared the first time he heard her sing. Of course, she’d mentioned to him that Solomon liked to parade her in front of his people every time they had a big event, but, at the time, he’d merely assumed it was because the drug kingpin wanted to show Juliet off - and her voice be damned.
How wrong he was.
He had just hopped out of the shower and probably should have just gone to his own damned room to put some clothes on, but, instead, he found himself straying towards Juliet’s. She’d only come out of her room for breakfast and seemed in a rush to get back to her solitude afterward. Hank wondered what the hell she was doing that could be so private.
And then, he heard it. A dulcet, full-bodied alto that made every hair on his body stand on end Juliet’s words reached him. She was singing a jazz song beneath the blare of the TV outside, and Hank found himself pressing his ear against the door to hear her better.
“Unforgettable, that’s what you are. Unforgettable, though near or far...Like a sound of love that clings to me, how the thought of you does things to me. No, never before...has someone been more…”
Hank wasn’t really one to listen to a lot of music but he did remember sneaking into his mother’s collection of jazz CDs as a little boy. By that time, she hardly touched them and, of course, he really couldn’t afford any CDs of his own. The full-bodied, dated sounds of the jazz singers had entranced him, but in that moment, Juliet’s voice was just as memorizing.
“Unforgettable, in every way. And forever more, that’s how you’ll stay. That’s why darling, it’s incredible that someone so unforgettable...thinks that I am unforgettable too.”