Protecting His Beautiful Lover: Southern Soldiers of Fortune, #3

By Leslie North

Clint Buckman, former Navy SEAL and member of the elite Southern Soldiers of Fortune, had one job: keep Tara Crumb safe. But when shots ring out at an environmental rally where Tara is speaking—and a bullet grazes her—Clint knows he's failed. Guilt-ridden, Clint vows to make things right, and takes on a full-time post as Tara's bodyguard. It isn't long before he and his six-year-old daughter end up living in Tara's house where he can watch over her. However, Tara's smoldering looks are just too tempting to ignore, and it isn't long before Clint's resolve to keep things professional crumbles. Yet as threats to Tara increase, Clint knows all his focus has to be on his mission, not on the woman who has him thinking about how nice forming a family might be…

 

Tara has always been driven by her cause to protect the earth and nothing has ever distracted her from that mission—not even bullets flying at her. Not until burly, sexy, Clint came into her life. How else should a healthy woman react to a half-naked former SEAL doing yoga in her living room? Having a gorgeous man and precocious six-year-old fledgling environmentalist living with her is knocking Tara off her game. She doesn't have time for all these warm, fuzzy feelings reluctantly filling her heart. Her only focus should be on passing a bill that will protect the local environment, not on the man who makes her blood run hot and her heart go into overdrive. She can't help wondering if this attraction is a distraction from her cause, or a clear path to happiness?

 

The real peril, though, is Tara's mysterious enemy, who could tear them apart before she can discover if what they have is forever…

• Language: English
• Publisher: Leslie North
• Release date: Oct 26, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201452155

Book preview

1

Today was a bad day.

Ex-SEAL turned private-security-for-hire Clint Buckman liked to think he was prepared for anything, but no way had he expected this.

Mr. Buckman, I’m sorry, said Viola Winters, the twenty-something nanny he’d hired to care for his six-year-old daughter, Ashley. She had his daughter in tow—and despite her words, she didn’t actually sound sorry at all. This isn’t what I signed up for, she continued.

Well, that made two of them, then.

Clint tore his eyes away from his current task, keeping watch over the beautiful woman who was stepping up to the mic on stage at the outdoor rally, and focused instead on the irate young woman pitching a fit in front of him. What’s wrong?

I had to dig your daughter out of that stinky compost pile again and she yelled at me about climate change and saving the planet and my mother’s sick and in the hospital and I’m not there and—

That’s not true, Daddy, Ashley said, cutting her off. I was raking the compost like you’re supposed to for aeration and next thing I know, she comes up and starts yelling at me.

The two of them started bickering, but Clint tuned out from that point, his brain switching into fixer mode. He’d known Viola probably wasn’t a good fit for them, with her preppy clothes and persnickety ways, but he’d been desperate. He and the guys had made a success of their security agency, Southern Soldiers of Fortune, but after almost five years of rapid growth, they’d had to make some big investments recently—hiring on more staff to handle the caseload, renting larger offices, increasing their training standards—and none of that came cheap. They were all investments that would pay off in the long run…but for now, finances were tight, and they couldn’t afford to turn down any jobs, including this current one. Granted, playing bodyguard to activists wasn’t his usual MO, but hey. It paid well, so yeah.

But that had meant he needed to find someone to watch Ashley while he worked and Viola had been the only candidate the nanny service had who was willing to start immediately.

Dammit. His target, Tara Crumb, finished her speech on-stage and walked off to applause from the crowd. He tracked her as she weaved her way through the crowd toward him, the caramel-colored streaks in her long brown hair glinting in the sunshine. There went any hopes of getting the argument with Viola wrapped up before Tara caught him in this unprofessional mess.

Mr. Buckman, the nanny said, drawing his attention to her again. I quit.

Well, shit.

How’d I do? Tara asked him as she reached their group, her smile bright and expectant.

For a moment, all Clint could do was blink at her, his usual ordered mind swirling with chaos. Damn, she was pretty. Under different circumstances, Tara Crumb would have been just his type. Except he didn’t date assignments. Hell, truth be told, he didn’t date anyone. His relationship with Ashley’s mom had been just a brief fling—he hadn’t even known it had resulted in a baby until he’d gotten the call from Child Protective Services that the mother had abandoned the baby and that he was listed as the father.

Mr. Buckman, is everything okay? Tara asked, her pretty hazel eyes filled with concern.

He opened his mouth to answer, but Viola cut him off.

Goodbye, Mr. Buckman, she said, before flouncing off through the crowd, her phone to her ear as she called the nanny service or her mother or someone other than him. At least her brusque tone helped jar him out of his thoughts.

Uh, sorry, he said, trying to cover. I was dealing with a personal matter.

Your speech was great! Ashley said to Tara. I’m an environmentalist too!

You are? Tara crouched to put herself at eye level with his daughter, the flowy, ankle-length gauze of her dress gathering around her in the breeze and showing off a set of long, tanned legs. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and grinned. That’s awesome! And thanks for listening to my speech.

No problem, Ashley said, then tugged on Clint’s hand. Daddy, I’m thirsty.

Great. So much for having an easy day. He’d mistakenly thought watching a bunch of tree huggers would be a walk in the park, no pun intended, but now he had to juggle taking care of his daughter with doing his job. He risked failing at both and that wasn’t an option.

Clint didn’t fail. Couldn’t fail. He’d been there, done that. Had the deep emotional scars to prove it.

Daddy’s working right now, sweetie. Let me text the guys in the green room to see if they can take you.

He’d just messaged Noah and Levon, when the nightmare continued.

I have to tinkle too, Ashley said, crossing her legs awkwardly. Bad!

Yep. Couldn’t ask the guys to handle that one. There wasn’t enough hazard pay in the universe to cover guarding the ladies room.

Tara straightened and bit her lip, clearly trying hard not to laugh at his predicament. I can take her, if you want. I could use a minute to freshen up myself, anyway.

Clint’s first reaction was to decline. It was a nice offer. A perfect one, actually. But he couldn’t ask the woman he’d been hired to protect to help him babysit his daughter. That was unprofessional and Clint was nothing if not a consummate professional. He prided himself on it.

But Ashley kept doing her potty dance and whining about wanting a Slush Puppy, whatever the hell that was, and the next speaker—another client he was supposed to be watching—was getting ready to take the stage, and the guys still hadn’t answered his text and… oh hell with it.

Okay. Thank you. But I do need to keep an eye on you. Please stay in sight—except for when you’re in the bathroom, of course, he said to Tara, getting lost for a second in her smile again before coughing to distract himself. Thankfully, the entrance to the ladies room was visible from where he was standing. He could watch the stage and watch the restroom, too. He transferred Ashley’s hand to hers, then handed Tara a twenty-dollar bill. One slushie thing for her—from a stand where I can see you—then if you could drop her off at the VIP tent with the other guys from my team, that would be great. After that, head back to me, please. That’s it. Keep the change.

Tara snorted. Gee, thanks. My first tip.

Heat prickled Clint’s cheeks. I didn’t mean…

She laughed, the musical sound chiming through the air. It’s fine. Be back in a minute.

Embarrassed and flustered, both rare occurrences for him, Clint just blinked after them, watching them walk toward the small brick building with the bathrooms while they laughed and whispered to each other like they were best pals or something.

God, he was such a dork, getting all gaga over a woman he had no business having heart-eyes for.

Time to get back to business, bud.

Clint took up his usual at-ease stance while he waited, alternating his attention between the bathroom and the stage while also keeping a general eye on the surroundings, scouting for anyone who looked like they might want to start trouble. This was what he was here to do—not moon over Tara Crumb. He was here to guard her and the other activists. That was all.

The sooner he got his head on straight and remembered that, the better.

Tara and his daughter emerged a short while later and he watched as they stopped at the slushie booth before Tara dropped Ashley off with the guys in the VIP tent. When she returned to his side, Clint did his best not to notice that flowery perfume of Tara’s swirling around him or the sudden tingle of heat when her arm brushed his in the crowd. Your daughter is a delight.

Thanks, he said, all too aware of her. The nanny that just quit had other ideas.

Is that who that was? Tara laughed again, the sound heading straight to Clint’s groin. God. What was it about this woman that got under his skin so bad? He shifted his weight and clasped his hands tighter behind his back. From the way she flounced out of here earlier, I figured she was a debutante or something.

Clint gave a low snort and squared his shoulders. He liked to keep his private and his professional life separate. It was rare for him to even talk about his private life while he was on the job, but something about her made it all too easy. He shouldn’t be enjoying this woman’s company or her jokes, and yet, he was. Way more than he should. Thank you for taking Ashley to the bathroom for me. And getting her a slushie.

You’re welcome. And she seemed happy as a clam with your friends, but what girl wouldn’t be, with a blue Slush Puppy and two men fawning over her. Tara grinned up at him, making his heart do a weird little dip. Plus, she’ll have the best seat in the house for all the performances later.

In a way, this rally reminded him more of a carnival than a protest. There were food vendors and speakers and later, a couple of folk rock, granola-fed bands were going to play. Not really his style. He preferred rock and metal type music—but considering his kid was here, he supposed he should be glad the offerings were family-friendly.

Hmm, Clint grunted. I appreciate you stepping in like that. I don’t usually let my personal life interfere with my jobs.

Yeah. Me neither, Tara said, staring at the stage, same as him. Of course, I have no personal life to speak of, so that solves that problem.

He found that hard to believe. A woman as gorgeous as her must have people lined up to date her. Clint wasn’t much into flirting at all, but she made it easy. C’mon. I don’t believe that.

It’s true. She raised her chin. Work takes up all of my time these days. I’m determined to get this state-wide climate change bill enacted while I’m still interim executive director of GGE.

Right. Clint had studied up on her dossier before this job, same as he had with the other potential targets SSoF were being paid to protect. She was temporary head of Go Green Energy, a regional non-profit that was fighting for legislation to combat climate change. Considering she was only twenty-seven, the fact that she’d been put in charge—even just as an interim director—was pretty damned impressive. She’d taken over the position after the last guy, Howard Steinman, had been killed the previous year. From what Clint read, that investigation was still pending, thus the reason he’d been hired for added security around Tara and the other people most visibly and vocally involved in trying to get this legislation passed. There was a group of opposing forces who, rumor had it, weren’t afraid to get violent to get their point across.

So, here Clint stood on a fine summer day, next to the most beautiful woman in the place, and he refused to give in to the attraction fizzing between them like shaken soda pop. Story of his life.

The guys at SSoF joked with him sometimes that he wasn’t happy unless he was miserable. That wasn’t exactly true. The truth was, Clint didn’t trust happiness. After all, when he was a kid, he’d been happy as could be right up until the day his mother had packed her bags and walked out of his life forever, saying she couldn’t take it anymore. He hadn’t seen it coming, hadn’t been prepared at all—and when it happened, it had hit him all the harder as a result. Once that had happened, he never thought he’d be happy again. Or maybe that he never should be happy again. Disappointment didn’t hurt as much if you were braced for it from the start.

Good turnout today, Tara said, scanning the crowd. Bigger than I expected.

That’s good, right? Clint said, glad to be out of his head. He needed to focus on the here and now, not the past. There was no changing the past. No matter how he might wish he could. He cleared his throat and checked his phone. Noah had sent him a picture of him and Ashley sticking out their blue coated tongues from those slushies. He shook his head and stuck the thing back in his pocket. More tree huggers to vote for your bill.

Tara gave him some side-eye. We prefer the term social justice warriors, thanks. But yes. It’s good.

A high pitched whistle sailed past Clint’s ear and he swatted at the sound, thinking it was a bothersome mosquito. It was hot as Hades out here now and his all-black attire didn’t help matters. But then the whistling grew louder and…nope. That was no bug.

Fuck, he said under his breath. He turned to push Tara to the ground, but realized he’d acted too late when he saw the bright red splotch of crimson blossoming on the arm of Tara’s jean jacket and…

Oh shit! You’re hit. Get down! he yelled, using his body to cover hers. Gun! he shouted out, so everyone would know to take cover. There’s a gun!

All hell broke loose as an incoming call came to his phone. He pulled it out to hear the guys yelling on the other end of the line. He managed to break through the noise to ask, Is Ashley okay?

Yes! Levon yelled back through the line. Noah’s got her covered. The cops are moving in, they’ve got the gunman cornered and are taking him down. You okay?

Clint stared at the people scattering around him, their signs and banners strewn across the grass like so much trash, the woman beneath him shivering and shaken and bleeding, and answered truthfully. No. I need EMTs out here stat! Tara Crumb’s been hit.

Sirens wailed from the squad cars now circling the area and the crowd was yelling and screaming, but all Clint could focus on was the fact that this was all his fault. He’d allowed himself to get distracted by Tara and their conversation and he’d failed to spot the shooter in time.

My fault. My failure.

Again.

2

J esus, what a mess, Levon said. It was two days after the rally and they were still going through the initial damage reports—though this time from the comfort of their office. That all went downhill fast.

No shit, Noah confirmed, looking over his shoulder at the computer screen. They were lucky no one was seriously hurt.

Lucky was right. Clint sat at his desk in the Southern Soldiers of Fortune offices and stared down at his empty desktop, doing