be envious while wishing she were the one being stroked so gently.
“She needs a name,” Ryanne told him. “The cat” and “feline” were already old. “Since she’ll be staying at your place—did I mention I think you should take her home?—I’ll let you have the honors of choosing—”
He choked on his own tongue. “Hell, no. Finders keepers.”
“But you said you’d ensure her delivery—”
“No, no, a thousand times no. I’ll ensure a safe delivery here.”
“Fine,” she grumbled. “She can stay here.” For now. “I’ll call her...Ali Cat?” No. Too on point. “Kitty Poppins? Kitkat?” Argh! Same problem.
“Names are important. They define who we are and set the stage for who we become. So choose one with care.”
“Wow. That’s a lot of pressure for a single word.” She traced a finger over her lock tattoo, her curiosity too great to ignore. “What does Jude mean?”
There was a slight hesitation before he admitted, “The praised one.”
“Seriously?” She snickered, and the corners of his mouth might—might!—have twitched. So close to success, but still so far away. “I wonder what Ryanne means.”
“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
