“It’s the feminine form of Ryan, which means little king.”
Had he known already...or had he looked it up after meeting her?
Warmth settled low in her belly. “So. Ryanne means little queen. You’re right, our names set the stage for who we become. But I’m not calling you the praised one. Do you have a nickname?”
A pause, a clipped nod.
“Well,” she prompted. “Don’t hold back. Tell me before I start calling you Gollum or Spanky McSparkle.”
“Spanky McSparkle?” He pursed those beautiful, scarred lips. “In the military, my teammates called me...Priest.”
“Seriously?” she repeated. “Why—”
“Nope. No more sharing. Name the cat and move on.”
Someone sure turned cranky superfast. Oh, wait. Cranky was Jude Laurent’s default setting. “We’ll call her Belle.” Decision made. “And yes, you did, in fact, name her. You called her beautiful.”
He glowered, and yet the expression lacked heat. “All right. It’s 9:03. Let’s get down to business.”
“All right. Let’s.”
Over the next hour, he explained the complex camera system he intended to put into place. Once, only once, she accidentally touched him. He jolted, as if she’d burned him. A bad reaction, or a really, really good one?
The next time she touched him was on purpose. Again, he jolted.
Focus. Business now, play later.
Basically every inch of her bar and parking lot would be filmed twenty-four hours a day, with the exception of the bathrooms and the inside of her apartment. A panic button would be added to her apartment, and with a few tweaks, the closet in her bedroom would become a safe room. She would hire three bouncers, though he’d suggested four, and all three males would be big, burly and fearless; they would enforce her rules and eject anyone who acted out of line. And if ever she held a big event, he had employees in the city who would drive down to help with security. Finally, she would hire a full-time night watchman, who would patrol the parking lot, stopping any outside mischief before it had time to enter the bar.
“You do realize all these changes and additions will eat up my profits, right?” Thousands of dollars would be spent on cameras and installation, plus the ongoing salaries of four new employees.
“If something were to happen to your bar, you’d make zero profits. But, to supplement your income, you can begin hosting daytime events. Think about it. The bar is closed mornings and afternoons every day of the week. You can offer private parties, showers, whatever. The possibilities are endless.”
The Strawberry Valley book club did need a bigger place to get together. And the local matchmaker wanted a venue for the meet and greets she was hoping to host. But everything Jude suggested meant more work for Ryanne, and she was already overtaxed.
Still, he was right. What if she made enough money to pay for all the security additions, salaries and upgrades for her travels? Excitement sparked.
“The panic button you mentioned,” she said. “It will be linked to Blueberry Hill PD? Strawberry Valley PD? Grapevine PD?”
A muscle jumped underneath his eye. “None of the above. The signal will go to LPH Protection. We have monitors in place 24/7. Someone there will notify 911 as well as call Daniel, Brock...or me.”
Delicious, drugging warmth spilled through her. Getting personal with Jude Laurent... “Are you saying you’ll drop whatever you’re doing in order to save a damsel in distress?”
His nod was immediate. “I will. So will they.”
“Well, hiring the right employees will take time.” Am I really going to do this?
“I know. That’s why I’ll be acting as a bouncer in the meantime.”
Her heart leaped, a thousand butterflies taking flight in her stomach. Jude...nearby every night... “There’s a slight problem with your plan. You make my customers uncomfortable.”
“Good. They’ll be on their best behavior.”
“Or they’ll leave and never return.”
His wide shoulders hiked in a shrug.
Such a contradiction, this man. Helpful, but indifferent. Kind, but aloof. Smoldering, but standoffish.
“All right,” she said, and sighed. Safety first. “You have permission to proceed. With everything.” She couldn’t help but add, “After I hear my daily compliment.”
One brow arched. “Rescuing your cat wasn’t enough?”
“Our cat. We’re co-owners.” She’d almost said coparents, but had stopped herself in time. No reason to remind him of the daughters he’d lost.
“Fine.” His lips compressed, and he gave her his patented I disapprove look. “You want a compliment, you get a compliment. You are a...singular woman.”
She waited for him to say more. He didn’t.
Well. “Singular woman” was as good a compliment as any, she supposed, and maybe kinda sorta better than she’d anticipated. “Just so you know, I’ll expect something a lot more personal tomorrow.”
“Why?” he grated. “Why do you care what I think about you?”
Make a man laugh, and he’ll have a good day. Teach a man to have fun, and he’ll have a good life.
Remembering her plan, she twirled a lock of hair around her finger and batted her lashes at him. “Don’t be silly, praised one. I just like to watch you squirm.”
FOR THE NEXT WEEK, Jude did his best to avoid the too flirtatious, too happy Ryanne. An impossible task, considering he worked at the Scratching Post each of the seven days, installing cameras in the morning, checking food deliveries in the afternoon, acting as a bouncer in the evening and helping care for Belle every minute in between. The pregnant, very grumpy cat hadn’t yet given birth.
Ryanne had texted him a few times, too. Random invitations to do ridiculous things.
Let’s go to a finger-painting workshop! We’ve GOT to improve our employer-employee relations.
His response? How will finger paint help us?
Duh! Our bodies are the canvases and we get to paint each other. (You know, a little hands-on learning. Or big. Yeah, probably big.)
No.
Not just no, but hell, no.
Her next text had read What about a petting zoo in the city??? (I promise I’m not the animal you’ll be stroking.)
Again he’d replied, No.
Movie? I’ll pay AND share my popcorn w/you.
Another solid No.
She texted him a gif of a cartoon character sobbing.
Avoiding this woman had begun to prick at his pride. He’d once been part of a military unit known as the Ten. Ten soldiers sent on the most dangerous missions—secret missions that would never be talked about in history books. They’d killed the enemy and rescued other soldiers amid impossible odds of survival. Amid it all, Jude, Brock and Daniel had seen and done things no human should have seen or done. It changed them.
Brock now tried to make everyone he met fall in like with him, since he couldn’t like himself. Daniel kept all newcomers at a distance, too afraid of losing another person, and Jude...he tended to numb-out, and