Waiting For Wren (Book Five In The Bodyguards Of L.A. County Series) by Cate Beauman

continued as he held her gaze. “I’m sure he is. She’s staying here tonight. I need to get her luggage from her car. I’ll have her call you back in five. Bye.” He hung up.
    She set the remaining quarter of the grilled cheese on her plate. “Ethan’s pretty worked up, huh?”
    “Good guess. He’s going fucking bananas. The DA called him. He ripped Ethan a new asshole wondering why his sister’s making wild accusations about his grandson leaving dead cats on her doorstep. Ethan wants you to call him. You can deal with your brother for now. I’m sure I’ll have another turn later.” He pulled her car keys from the top of her purse and grabbed his own from the peg on the wall. “Don’t open the door for anyone. I’ll let myself in.” With that he shut the door behind him and was gone.
    Wren stared after Tucker in the silent room. Her stomach felt surprisingly better, and her headache was down to a dull roar. Sighing, she picked up her phone and prepared herself for a grilling from her worried brother.

Chapter 6
    W ren sat at the study table in the Cartwrights’ library staring at the sunny yellow palette and green and white striped fabric swatches Lenora liked best. Thank the lord they finally agreed on something. She squeezed the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes. The day had passed in a whirlwind. Between the schedule changes to accommodate Jackson and Jerrod’s ability to drive her to her worksites, meetings with potential new clients, and her late-afternoon go-around with Lenora, she was toast.
    Typically she handled chaos with ease. Bedlam came with the territory. Her career revolved around the wants and needs of wealthy and often spoiled adults who believed their whims were her top priority. And usually they were, but not today. Today she struggled to keep everything—including herself—together. Her head ached as it did last night, and her stomach churned with unshakeable worry. Tylenol and Saltines weren’t doing the trick, nor were her silent pep talks to herself or deep breathing techniques she relied on when the pressure became too much.
    Sighing, she pulled her laptop closer and punched in the first few adjustment codes to update the original mockup she’d made for the Cartwright’s pool house. Now that the foreman had gotten back to her with firm dates for phase one’s completion and Lenora had given her the go-ahead, she could begin placing orders for custom-made furnishings, paints, rugs, and the numerous accents they would use throughout the space.
    The next step was to get the reluctant head gardener involved with the landscaping overhaul. Wren had noticed that Romeo did everything in his power to avoid interactions with Lenora. She couldn’t blame him, but he would have to get over it. If she could handle ‘the lady of the manor’ for a few hours, so could he. Still trying to find her groove, she flipped screens and e-mailed Patrick. It would be better to get the meeting over with sometime in the next couple weeks. They could turn the dreaded occasion into a breakfast or luncheon. Food seemed to be important to the somewhat portly Romeo. She would soothe ruffled feathers with a nice meal. “What can I say? I’m a genius.” Chuckling to herself, she returned her attention back to the mockup.
    She punched in the color adjustment as her cellphone rang. Wren glanced at the readout, smiled, and answered. “I’m still fine. In fact, I haven’t moved from the study table I’ve been sitting at since the last time you called.”
    “Don’t piss on protocol, Cooke. Every hour on the hour until I can come pick you up.”
    “Lucky me. And how much longer will we play this game?”
    “Ethan’s still rearranging schedules to get you full-time coverage for a while. You just keep answering when I call and stay where we left you. I’d like to avoid any unnecessary confrontations with your riled-up and very cranky brother.”
    “What can I say? I inspire love and loyalty wherever