Only You (Adair Family #5)(8)

“I’m coming with you.”

It was not said with the tone of a friend, but in the tone of a bodyguard. “Walk, I told you, I’m safer here than anywhere.”

“You’ve just moved back, and the news of it is everywhere. There could still be a threat, and until I determine the village is safe, you’re not going anywhere alone.”

It was the most Walker had said in one sentence in a while. Lips twitching, I slapped him on the back. “Then let’s go.”

To my further surprise, as Walker drove us out of the estate toward the village, my friend spoke again. “Do you want to talk about whatever has you in a strange mood?”

I flicked a look at him. Walker knew more about me than anyone did, even my family. He even knew about the best friend who’d slept with my brother and then left, never to be heard from again. “The redhead today.”

“Aye?”

“That was Monroe.”

“I know.” He looked at me before staring back at the road. “She gave me her name.”

Scowling, I replied, “You didn’t say anything.”

“I was waiting for you to say something. Anyway, I knew she had to be someone because I’ve never seen Brodan Adair give up the chance to rush to the aid of a gorgeous woman.”

My frown deepened.

He huffed. “Don’t worry. Even if she was my type, and she’s not, I wouldn’t go there.”

“I don’t care,” I lied.

Walker made a quiet sound of disbelief, but I let it sit.

Honestly, I was still too fucking tired to deal with anything I was feeling. Collapsing at Thane’s and Arrochar’s double wedding was a big wake-up call. I’d been pushing and pushing.

Running.

I was too tired to even fake my famous charm and humor.

One reason I let Lachlan cancel film projects I’d signed on to was because I had no fuel in the tank. No passion. The thought of shrugging on someone else’s persona exhausted me.

I missed my family.

I missed the Highlands.

I missed who I used to be, and I wasn’t even sure I knew who that was anymore.

“I’m thirty-seven years old, and I’m bloody lost,” I admitted hollowly.

“You’ll be all right, Bro,” Walker offered quietly. “Life’s about choices. Just have to be sure you take time to think about things before you make your next move.”

At Walker’s sound advice, I turned toward him. Over the years, I’d cracked him open a bit. He was more loquacious with me than anyone, but he usually only opened his mouth when he had something important to say. And everything he said always made sense. Something occurred to me. “I’ve got an idea.”

“Okay.”

“From now on, you make all my choices. All my decisions.” I grinned, feeling free of the burden already. “Aye, I’ll even pay you a bonus for doing it.”

Walker shot me a disbelieving look. “You want me to be the boss of you?”

“Who better?” I sat up, my mood lifting as I got into the spirit of the idea. “Walker Ironside is a wise man.”

“You’re second-naming me?”

“With a name like Ironside, people should second-name you all the time.”

He grunted because it pissed him off when he found out I’d actually hired him partly based on his cool-as-fuck surname.

“C’mon, Walk. I’m floundering. I’m fucked. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. But you are a man of common sense and a perceptiveness bordering on the occult.”

“Bro—”

“I’ve been making some really stupid decisions over the last few years. I know you’re my mate, but even you can agree with that.”

“Considering you exhausted yourself into the hospital, aye, I can agree with that.”

“So … you decide what I do with my days. For the next … three months. Three months of bossing me around. It’ll be a nice turnabout for you, I’m sure.” That was sarcasm. He was a bossy bastard.

Walker looked like he was considering this. “I get to make all your decisions from now on?”

“Aye.”

“For three months?”

“Three months. My life is in your hands.” I reconsidered that, since my life was in his hands daily. “More than usual.”

“And you have to do everything I tell you to do?”

“Everything.”

“What happens if you don’t do what I tell you to do?”

Hmm. “I’ll wash your clothes for a month.”

He snorted at that. “Pathetic.”

“I’ll, uh … buy you a very nice watch.”

“What the fuck do I care about very nice watches?”

I frowned. “Well, what do you want?”

Walker pulled into a parking spot outside the Gloaming and switched off the engine. He turned to me with the devil in his eyes. “To make sure you take this seriously … I want your Black Shadow.”

“Get to fuck,” I guffawed. I owned one of the few 1950 Vincent Black Shadow motorbikes still in existence, and it had cost me six figures.

My friend shrugged. “If you want me to do this, give me a reason to believe you’ll take my decision-making seriously.”