Bodyguard/Husband by Mallory Kane Page A

package.
    Mr. Ames, the postmaster, eyed him like a curious bird, tilting his head and peering over his half-glasses. “So this is your new husband, Holly? What’s your name, son?”
    Jack glanced at Holly as he set the box down on the counter. “O’Hara. Jack O’Hara.”
    “Well, Jack O’Hara. You know you got the prize, don’t you? We don’t know what we’d do without Holly here in Maze. So you better be good to her, you understand?”
    “Yes. I’m beginning to.”
    Mr. Ames looked at the label on the box. “Overnight, eh? So, Jack, what do you do?”
    The question startled Holly. They’d never gotten around to talking about how they would field these questions. Now they were out here in the midst of the people who had known her all her life, and she had no idea how her new husband was going to respond.

    Jack leaned an elbow on the counter. “I’m a writer,” he said easily.
    “Ah. A writer. Well, I guess that explains how you can just pick up and move down here. So what do you write?”
    Holly did her best not to let her panic show. What would a real wife do? Hoping Mr. Ames wouldn’t send one of his probing questions her way, she jerkily slid her arm around Jack’s waist, stifling a startled yelp as her fingers touched the gun at his back.
    “Honey, we’re going to be late,” she said, putting what she hoped was a loving tone into her voice.
    “I freelance,” Jack told Mr. Ames. “I was at the seminar Holly attended, doing a series of articles on strength training for a fitness magazine. Of course—” he straightened and casually put his arm around Holly’s shoulder “—I have to confess, right now I’m having a little trouble concentrating. We’re still honeymooning, you know.”
    Mr. Ames chuckled and his eyebrows went up another notch as Jack pulled Holly closer. She had the alarming notion Jack might kiss her, right here in the post office.
    As Jack pressed his lips against her hair, sending shivers over her scalp, the bell on the door jangled. She pushed away and saw Bob Winger.
    When he saw Holly, his face brightened like a flashlight with a new battery. “Holly, hi!”
    “Hi, Bob.” She looked up at Jack. “Bob, this is Jack O’Hara, my husband.”
    Jack held out his hand, but for a few seconds, Bob just stood there, as if stunned.
    “H-husband?” he stammered. “Well, that’s certainly a surprise. Um, congratulations.”

    “I got your phone messages, Bob,” Holly said, “but I haven’t had a chance to call.” She felt herself blush when Jack put his arm around her shoulder as if staking his territory.
    “I’m afraid I’ve been monopolizing her time,” Jack said. “I’m sure I’ll see you around, once we’re more settled. Holly tells me you teach English and American literature at the high school.”
    Bob nodded and wiped his hand down the front of his pants.
    “Sorry to run,” Holly said, “but we’re on our way to Uncle Virgil’s house.”
    As they headed toward the door, Jack leaned down to whisper in her ear. “So that’s Bob of the lunches that aren’t dates?”
    Embarrassed by his casual familiarity, she ducked out from under his arm, and almost collided with another customer.
    “Excuse me— Oh!” It was Thomas Frasier, Brad’s father. Holly’s smile suddenly felt frozen. “Mr. Frasier, how are you?”
    The older man’s broad face and fair hair were just like his son’s. It always pained Holly to see him—not only because of the resemblance, but also because of his undisguised hostility toward her. Thomas Frasier believed Holly had ruined his only son’s promising future. He had never forgiven her for marrying Brad.
    Frasier shot her a venom-laced look and pushed past her without speaking.
    “Mr. Frasier.” Jack’s voice held the perfect note of deference. Holly cringed. Of course he knew who her ex-father-in-law was. She pushed open the exit door, but Jack didn’t take the hint.

    He nodded at the shorter man and held out his hand.