Saving Sophie: Book Seven In The Bodyguards Of L.A. County Series Read online

  “Okay. The table’s set and everything’s ready.”

  He’d had little doubt it would be. He checked his watch as his phone rang. Sighing, he answered, not bothering to pay attention to the readout. “Yeah, McCabe.”

  “Hey, Stone. It’s Abby.”

  He closed his eyes, wishing he’d taken the extra second to see who was calling. He didn’t want to play twenty questions with Ms. Peppy. “Hey.”

  “How are you?”

  “Fine.”

  “You wanna come for dinner? Jerrod and I are planning on a late meal. He’s doing the benefit deal with Tatiana Livingston.”

  “No, I’m all set. I’ve got a steak on the grill.”

  “Oh. Okay.”

  “What’s up?” Something was always up.

  “Well, I was wondering if you had a chance to check in with the cleaning woman, Sophie.”

  “That’s her name.”

  “I know. You told me. How’s she doing?”

  “As far as I know, good.” He hadn’t bothered to tell Abby about his new roommate.

  “Good.”

  “Why are you so worried about her, anyway?” Maybe Abby had the answers he’d convinced himself he didn’t care about.

  “I’m not, I guess. She just seems nice and, I don’t know, lonely.”

  He made a sound in his throat, knowing there was more to the story, but once again, it had nothing to do with him. He needed to remember that.

  “Are you coming to Sarah’s birthday party tomorrow?”

  “No.” He’d rather be shot.

  “You’re not going to your boss’s wife’s birthday party?”

  “Nope.”

  “But everyone was invited. Everyone’s going to be there. You should probably come for a little while.”

  He’d planned to get started on the room Sophie was using. If she was going to be here for a while, it might as well be more than plywood and two-by-fours, but maybe stopping in at Ethan’s couldn’t hurt. He typically didn’t care if he slighted people, but the Cookes were good people, and his co-workers and their wives weren’t bad. “I’ll come for an hour.” He glanced at Sophie setting a bowl in the center of the table. “I’m bringing someone.”

  “You are? Who?”

  He didn’t miss the hint of excitement. “Just someone I know.”

  “Okay. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Yeah.” He hung up and took the steaks off the grill, bringing them inside. He put the smaller one on Sophie’s plate and the monster-sized piece on his own.

  “Thank you. These look great.”

  He studied the ugly card table set with his equally ugly dishes and the amazing pesto, shrimp deal in the center next to the plate of grilled asparagus. “Everything looks good,” he agreed.

  “Why don’t you take your seat and I’ll serve you.” She made a grab for his dish.

  What the hell was up with this serving crap? He stopped her with a press of his hand on hers. “How about you sit down and serve yourself, and I’ll plunk some food on my own plate.”

  She tensed, nodding, sitting and staring down at the table.

  Maybe that came out a little gruffer than he’d meant. He sighed. “Look—”

  Her shoulders tightened as she quickly met his eyes, then looked down again.

  He didn’t know how to handle the wounded woman across from him. He didn’t do apologies, flowers, or gentle words. The women he was used to didn’t put up with anybody’s crap. He grabbed the serving spoon in the pasta salad and plunked a huge helping on her plate. “There.”

  She glanced up, staring at him.

  “Your steaks gonna get cold.”

  She nodded and picked up her fork.

  “We’re going somewhere tomorrow,” he said as he cut into his steak, cooked perfectly medium.

  Her hand paused as she stabbed a noodle. “What?”

  “Tomorrow there’s a party.”

  “Oh, that’s very nice of you to think of me, but I’ll probably just stay here.”

  He shook his head. “If I have to go—and I do—I’m not suffering alone.” In the almost two weeks she’d been here, he’d never heard her talk on the phone or make plans to meet up with anyone. It would be good for her to get out and get to know the women of Ethan Cooke Security. If anyone could make someone feel welcome it was that group. God knows they could talk, and they procreated like damn rabbits. Austin’s kid was just born a month ago or something like that, and Jackson’s wife, Alexa, was about to pop any day. And if all else failed, Abby would charm Sophie out of her shyness.

  “I don’t know…”

  “I would consider it a favor.” He knew that would turn the tide.

  She pressed her lips firm as she clutched at her fork. “Where is it?”

  “At a friend’s house a few miles away in the Palisades.”

  She nodded. “Okay.”

  “It’s a birthday party.”

  “A birthday? We have to bring a gift.”

  He stopped chewing. “No, we don’t.”

  “Yes we do. It’s rude not to.”

  “Well, hell.” He swallowed and huffed out a breath.

  She smiled. “Is this a child’s birthday?”

  “No, a woman.”

  Her smile brightened. “Consider her gift taken care of.”

  His spirits immediately lifted. He had no idea how to pick out cards and fancy crap for fancy women. “You sure?”

  “Definitely.”

  He scooped up another forkful of delicious pasta salad. “This stuff’s really good. You’re a good cook, Sophie.”

  She blinked.

  “You have to know you make excellent grub.”

  “Yes, I guess I do. I try to.”

  “Then why are you shocked that I’m giving you a compliment?”

  “You just—” She shook her head. “It’s silly.” She shook her head again. “You never call me Sophie.”

  He thought of her as Sophie but always called her Blondie. Nicknames were less personal. “I guess I don’t. You’re a damn fine cook, Soph.” They smiled at each other until he realized he had no idea what her last name was. He forked up more steak, glancing at the huge chip in the plate she was eating off of. “So, I was thinking about getting some new dishes.”

  She swallowed and wiped her mouth. “You were?”

  “The kitchen’s still a good few weeks away from demolition if not more, but this stuff in here’s ugly.”

  She looked down at her mismatched orange and green plate and bowl. “It’s certainly interesting—vintage flair. From the seventies.”

  He grinned, knowing she was trying not to hurt his feelings. “It’s ugly as shit.”

  She smiled back. “Okay, yes. It’s pretty awful.”

  “They were here when I moved in.”

  “What are you thinking of getting?”

  He shrugged. “I was hoping you could help me out with that.”

  “Yes. Sure. I can try.”

  He pulled his wallet from his back pocket, grabbed a wad of cash, and tossed it on the table. “That should probably cover it. Let me know if it doesn’t.”

  She toyed with a piece of shrimp as she stared at the money.

  “What?”

  “I don’t know what you want. What are you hoping for exactly? A four-piece set or eight? Do you want glasses and silverware too or just plates and bowls?”

  “Whatever you want. As long as it’s doesn’t look like this, I don’t care.”

  She nibbled her lip. “You must have some ideas.”

  “Not really. The bathroom looks good with what you’ve done in there. I want you to do that to the kitchen.”

  She looked at him with stunned pleasure. What the hell was he supposed to do with that? He liked the plants and candles and the hamper deal. It wasn’t that big of a thing.

  “You could—you could really use new pots and pans.”

  “So get some.”

  “I saw a great set in the flyers I was lo
oking through this morning.” She pushed back from her seat, grabbed the stack of papers she spoke of, and walked over to him, leaning down for him to see. “These right here.” She pointed. “They’re top of the line—stainless steel. They’re a little expensive but they’ll last you forever, and I might be able to find a coupon to go with the sale.”

  He wanted to tell her he didn’t give two shits; he never cooked, but then she would sit back down, and he liked the way she smelled and the way her soft hair brushed his arm. “Those are fine. What about those plates?” He tapped the black and white circular set, trying not to smile as she winced.

  “If that’s what you like, I can certainly pick them up for you.”

  “What do you like?”

  She slid her finger to the pretty pale yellow set. “I was thinking of these, especially if you did stainless steel appliances and white cabinetry.”

  That’s not what he’d had in mind, but he narrowed his eyes as he studied the tight space of his kitchen. He could see her vision and liked it a lot. “Okay.”

  “And it probably wouldn’t hurt to pick up these serving dishes here and maybe some new silverware. There are a couple of patterns...” She searched for another flyer, fighting with the pages.

  “Here.” He took the stack and slid her plate to the space next to his. “We’ll talk and eat at the same time.”

  “Sure. Let me grab a piece of paper and a pen.”

  “Can you snag my laptop too?”

  She snatched up the pad she kept by her jewelry-making supplies and brought him the laptop off the counter, taking the seat at his side.

  “Thanks.” He opened up his computer and punched in his password.

  “How do you feel about new glasses?”

  “I feel like I should probably get you some more money.”

  She smiled. “I guess I’m getting a little carried away.”

  He liked her like this, when she forgot to be cautious. He liked sitting here with her planning out his new home. “I need everything you’ve mentioned, so you might as well get it.” He accessed his home design files and called up the 3D plans of the kitchen. “Let me show you what I have in mind and you can decide how to fill it up. It’ll be kind of like this.” He turned the screen in her direction.

  “That’s going to be amazing.” She beamed, her eyes full of excitement. “I love the glass-front cabinets you have incorporated into the design.” She scooted closer. “It looks like you’re thinking of this cherry toned wood.”

  “Maybe. I think I like the white idea better.”

  “The white seems like it would go well with your proximity to the water—kind of gives it a coastal, nautical feel. It’ll also brighten up the space since it’s not very big.”

  He agreed completely. “So white it is.”

  “All right. Let’s finish supplying you with the basics. I think this drawer here by the stove would function well for linens.” She pointed to the screen. “We should probably think about new dish towels, oven mitts, and trivets. I saw a couple of patterns.” She turned to another page among the stack. “Right here.”

  His kitchen was coming to life before his eyes. “Those’ll work.”

  She smiled again. “I thought they might.”

  “What else have you got?”

  “How much money do you have?”

  They both grinned. He couldn’t get enough of her gentle voice and pretty smile. “Plenty to get this started.”

  “Well, I’ve got plenty of ideas. Let’s look at a few of these appliances.” She turned to yet another page and he leaned in close, more than content to spend the next little while looking at toasters and blenders in Sophie’s company.

  Chapter Seven

  Sophie sat by Olivia and Kylee at the kitchen table, coloring while the girls chatted and on occasion asked her to pass a crayon. The kids were her saving grace at this party. She glanced at the beautiful women standing around the massive island in the spectacular kitchen wearing their pretty, fashionable clothes, chatting and laughing like a big, happy family. She didn’t know how to do this—be around people, blend, converse, feel like she belonged.

  She stole another peek at Wren, Morgan, Hailey, and the woman who looked so much like Abigail Quinn, Alexa. They were like gorgeous Madonnas, all holding their babies or, in Sarah and Alexa’s cases, carrying their children in utero. And their husbands, many of whom she’d seen at the office, were no less striking.

  She didn’t belong here in her jeans and simple white top—the best she could do with her meager wardrobe options. She scanned the group of men standing around or sitting out on the deck, searching for Stone, who had long since disappeared. Sighing, she wondered where he’d gone and why hadn’t he taken her with him.

  “My mom’s going to have Owen any day now. She’s excited. She wants her feet to stop swelling.”

  Sophie looked at Olivia as the little girl colored a Disney princess, trying her best to stay in the lines—and mostly succeeding. “I’m sure you’re excited to have a new brother on the way.”

  “Yeah.”

  Sophie picked up a pink crayon to color in the gown she was working on. “And your mom’s having another baby too, Kylee. That’s exciting.”

  “My mom throws up but just sometimes. Daddy said she won’t throw up at all pretty soon.”

  “Oh.” Sophie smiled, always surprised by what children were willing to share. “Well, I’m glad she’s feeling better.”

  “Me too. Now I won’t have to watch Emma in the playroom when she runs to the toilet.”

  “Mm, yes, I see.”

  There was a commotion in the hallway. Bear and Reece, the Cookes’ enormous Mastiffs, and Mutt, Alexa and Jackson’s lab, barked joyously as Abby’s voice carried down the hall. Sophie stiffened as the woman she’d done her best to avoid made her way into the crowd, stopping to hand out hugs, with Jerrod following behind.

  “Um, girls, I’ll be right back,” Sophie said, setting her crayon on the table. She should have known she would bump into Abby when Stone told her they were going to Ethan and Sarah Cooke’s house. Why did she agree to come, especially when he vanished and left her alone in a houseful of strangers?

  “Okay,” the pretty blonds said in unison.

  She scooted back from her chair and made her escape out the glass doors leading to the deck, smiling at Wren’s husband as he looked her way. She had to get out of here. The Cooke Estate wasn’t more than four or five miles from Stone’s cliff. There had to be a bus stop down the road somewhere. She headed down a flight of stairs, coming to another deck. This place was huge—much bigger than Eric’s house of horrors. How the heck did she get out of this maze?

  She reached for the sliding door by the pool area and stepped into the coolest game room she had ever seen. “Wow,” she whispered as she took in the arcade games and skee-ball machine settled among plush leather furnishings. The movie-theater-sized-screen on the back wall was insane. “Wow,” she said again, hurrying for the nearest exit—she hoped. She opened the next door and found herself in yet another hallway. “Oh, come on.” She started up the steps, recognizing the front entrance ahead, and walked out the door and around the corner closest to the driveway. Looking over her shoulder, she hurried down the path, making certain no one saw her, and crashed into something firm and unmovable. Gasping, she stumbled backwards, almost falling until Stone reached out and grabbed her.

  “Going somewhere?” he asked, holding her against his chest, righting them both, dressed in simple dark-wash jeans and a black t-shirt.

  “Um.” She couldn’t think when he looked at her like that, especially when their bodies were crushed together and they breathed each other’s breath. “I—” She pushed at his shoulders.

  “You abandoning ship, Soph?” He finally released her, taking a step away.

  “You did,” she said, surprised by the hint of heat in her own words. “You left me up there with all of those people while you came out here to hide.”

  He
narrowed his eyes. “Are you giving me lip?”

  She swallowed, stepping away, realizing she’d talked back and made him angry. But she was mad too. “No—Yes.” She raised her chin, trying to find her courage. “Yes, I am. You invited me—”

  “Good,” he interrupted.

  That was the last thing she’d expected him to say. “Good?”

  “Yeah. Good. It’s about damn time. It’s nice to see there’s a temper in there somewhere. You’re too nice.”

  She frowned. “No I’m not.”

  “Yeah you are. There are a lot of assholes who like to take advantage of people like you.’”

  People like her—weak and vulnerable. She didn’t want him to think of her that way. For some reason it was vital that he thought of her as capable and powerful. “I—”

  The front door opened. “There you are.”

  Sophie stiffened. Her back was to the house, but she recognized Abby’s cheerful voice, desperately scanning for a way to escape.

  “Hey, Abby,” Stone said, holding Sophie’s gaze, questioning her with his intense brown eyes.

  Realizing there was nothing she could do but get through the moment, Sophie turned, watching surprise move over Abby’s beautiful face.

  “You’re here.” Abby beamed. “Stone, I had no idea.”

  Sophie frowned, confused.

  “Stone said he was bringing someone.” Abby held out her hand. “We met briefly a couple weeks ago at the office. I’m Abby Quinn.”

  “Yes.” Sophie took Abby’s outstretched hand. “Sophie.”

  “We’re excited to have you with us.”

  “Actually I was just—”

  “She was just coming to find me,” Stone interjected. “We’ll be up in a second.”