Saving Sophie: Book Seven In The Bodyguards Of L.A. County Series Read Free Page B

Sophie automatically glanced down at her not-so-white Keds and looked up just as quickly, remembering her new rules on maintaining eye contact. “I was just—the trash.” She stepped forward, grabbing the bag, pausing when she recognized the bodyguard’s make-out partner as Abigail Harris. No, Abigail Quinn. The newspapers said she’d recently married.
    “Don’t let us get in your way.”
    “You’re not.” Was she actually in the same room as one of LA’s top fashion designers and the visionary of Stowers House? Abigail Quinn was petite, powerful, and stunning. It was impossible to tell that she’d been through a horrifying ordeal not all that long ago.
    “Sorry.” The man skirted around Sophie, making his way to his desk. “We’ll be out of here in a second.”
    “Oh, I’m—” She secured a clean bag in the trashcan. “I was leaving.”
    “You don’t have to.” Abigail moved forward, touching her arm. “Right, Jerrod?”
    “Yeah. I forgot a file.”
    “Work, work, work.” Abigail scoffed, rolling her eyes. “This guy thinks he’s going to stare at his laptop on a Friday night instead of make out with his wife.”
    “I’m sure I can find time for both.”
    Abigail grinned, and Sophie relaxed as much as she could.
    “I’m Abby.”
    “Nice to meet you.” Sophie moved back to the door, unsure how to handle Abby’s vivacious energy. She envied women who oozed such confidence. She’d always been shy and quiet. “I should get going. I still have a few offices to clean.” Jerrod’s trashcan was last on her list, but she didn’t want to stay and chat. She didn’t know how. “Good night.”
    Abby’s smile dimmed. “Good night.”
    Sophie hurried down the hall to the supply closet, dragging her cart behind her, taking her time putting her items away while she waited for Jerrod to close his door and for his and Abby’s voices to fade.
    The main office doors shut, and she sighed, remembering why she treasured the night shift so much. There was no chatting or questions asked in a mostly empty building. No one bothered her in the dark. She shouldered the bag she never let out of her sight and hurried down the hall past Stone’s office, ready to enjoy her third full weekend in Los Angeles.

    ~~~~

    “Good job, Aubrey. That looks great,” Sophie encouraged as she helped the eight-year-old bead a necklace at the Saturday morning craft table. “Do you want pink next or purple?”
    “Purple.”
    Sophie rifled through the large bucket of cheap plastic beads, looking for the desired color and shape as her eager student filled the pipe cleaner with the pattern they’d picked out only moments before.
    “When will I be able to make bracelets like the kind you do?”
    “Mmm, probably after you practice a little while longer.” It had taken Sophie’s mother an entire day to teach her how to twist and hammer metal into the intricate pattern that long-ago winter when she’d sprained her ankle. She touched the pretty sterling silver piece on her wrist, desperately missing mom’s patience and sweet, quiet voice.
    “Your mom teached you how to make real good stuff.”
    “Taught.” Sophie corrected, smiling.
    “She taught you how to make good stuff.” Aubrey smiled back.
    “Thanks.” Why was it so easy to relax around children when spending time with adults always tied her in knots? “Your mom’s going to be excited. Maybe we should add a bracelet to go with it.”
    Aubrey nodded enthusiastically. “She’ll have a surprise to wear when she comes back from her job interview.”
    “She’ll love it.”
    “How do you know?”
    “My mother always told me children’s gifts are the best gifts of all.”
    “Did your dad hit your mom and make her cry?”
    Sophie paused with her hand in the bucket, staring at the pretty little redhead at her side. Aubrey spoke so matter-of-factly about something no child should ever have to witness. “No. My dad always hugged and kissed me and my mother.”