Burn: A South Beach Bodyguards Book by Erin McCarthy Page A

romantic comedies was our thing. Given that it had always been just the two of us my mother had loved to put me on the couch with her, our feet soaking in plastic tubs full of bubble bath, facial masks plastered on, while we ran through every romantic movie ever filmed. “I think I was Julia Roberts in Sleeping With the Enemy.” I didn’t really believe that, given that according to my hazy memories and Ryan’s confession, I had kept stripping off my clothes in a ballsy move more reminiscent of Julia as Erin Brokovich, but it would distract my mother.
    “What? No! That’s terrifying. That only confirms that someone hurt you, because she was an abused wife in that movie.”
    Great. That was not my intention. “But she escaped.”
    “I suppose. Plus she met a cute neighbor guy. Too bad we don’t have any cute neighbors. The man next door is about a hundred and twelve years old and his kids are ingrates who never visit him.”
    “Yeah, I don’t have hopes on the neighbor front.” I darted a glance behind me. Ryan was there, just a few feet away. The girl had disappeared. “But I have other hopes.”
    My mother was silent. Then she sighed. “You’re talking about Ryan aren’t you?”
    “Yes.” There was no pretending otherwise.
    “That’s not the man I see you with. You need a nice boy.”
    That offended me on Ryan’s behalf. “He is a nice boy.” My voice was low, so he wouldn’t hear me.
    “He is. I’m not disputing that. But some men can give you their heart but not their loyalty. Some can give their loyalty but not their heart. Ryan is the latter. He would never cheat on you but he will never give you his heart, princesita .”
    My mother was serious when she called me little princess. It was a childhood nickname she rarely trotted out now. It didn’t make me feel any better considering she was telling me precisely what I did not want to hear. “That’s why I want to just go home, Mom. And I have to go. I’m at my class.”
    It had been a mistake to call her. She made me feel melancholy.
    After ending the call, I turned to Ryan. “This is my building. You can’t go in with me.”
    “Don’t use the restroom or go in any empty classrooms or hallways.”
    That amused me. “There are dozens of people around me. I’m not in an alley at three in the morning.”
    “Be serious,” he said. “This is a big deal.” He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall by the doors. “I’ll be right here when you get out.”
    My eyebrows shot up. “You’re just going to stand there for fifty minutes? That’s not at all weird or creepy.”
    The corner of his mouth lifted. “Are you calling me creepy?”
    “Yes.” I fished around in my bag. “Here. Hold a book. You’ll look less conspicuous.” I shoved my microbiology book into his hands.
    It didn’t help. He looked awkward as hell. He didn’t know what to do with it. He kept shifting it back and forth between his baseball mitt hands. I burst out laughing. “See you later.”
    His nostrils flared. “Have a good class.”
    “Thanks.” I quickly moved into the building, determined to make it through the class, even though my head was pounding. I should have eaten something. I wasn’t the girl who ‘forgot to eat.’ I liked my meals regular.
    By the end of class I was hating myself and all my choices. My head hurt so bad I could taste bile in the back of my throat from fighting the urge to vomit. It was like a clam was trying to crawl up from the recesses of my stomach, and I was seeing black spots behind my eyes. The second the professor dismissed us, I rushed out of my seat and shoved the door open. I was hoping for fresh air, but that was a futile desire. The hallway seemed like chemical cleaner.
    I rushed past a dozen people, breaking into a run at the bottom of the steps. I was going to throw up, there was no way around it.
    But I didn’t. When I slammed open the front doors and barreled through, I skidded to a stop at the bushes and