Home Coming, page 1
HOME COMING
THE LONG ROAD HOME
CAT JOHNSON
HOME COMING
Navy SEAL Quinn Baldwin takes the long road home to visit his family, but instead finds TikTok sensation Bailey Knowles taking refuge in his childhood home. She needs protection. He's got time on his hands. It's a win-win until the internet and Bailey’s fans declare him her new boyfriend.
Now Quinn has to deal with an über famous client to protect, the relentless paparazzi, her adoring fans and equally passionate haters who’ve ‘shipped’ them into being a couple, his sister who embraces the idea, plus whoever broke into Bailey’s apartment.
His leave from the Navy is going to be anything but boring.
Home Coming is a steamy, bodyguard protector romance featuring a military hero trying to keep his hands off his little sister’s best friend and an internet star with imposter syndrome trying to navigate newfound fame and what she thinks is unrequited love.
CHAPTER ONE
The cell phone rang at exactly zero-six-hundred, on the dot.
Quinn knew who it was even before looking at the caller ID on the screen.
Once he did look the name displayed only confirmed his suspicions. His mother in New York always waited until exactly nine a.m. her time to call him.
Luckily, for both of them, he’d already gotten in his morning run and had showered and dressed for the day. He had a few minutes to spare and talk.
“Good morning,” he said as he moved to the window of his barrack’s room.
He stared out across the small green rectangle of neatly cropped grass that bordered the vehicle-filled parking lot.
In contrast, the sweeping expanse of cloudless cornflower blue sky stretched out above the horizon—but this was southern California so sunshine and blue skies were nothing new.
“Quinn?” There was an inflection of surprise in his mother’s tone.
Wondering why, he said, “Yes, Mom.”
“I wasn’t expecting to hear your voice.”
He let out a short laugh. “Mom, you called my phone. Who else’s voice would you hear?”
“I meant you never answer my calls. At least not live and in person. When AI takes over the world, I’m ready. I already have a very close personal relationship with your voicemail, whom I’ve spoken to more than I have you since you moved out there.”
He hung his head.
Over a decade later and his mother was still throwing it in his face that he’d moved to the other side of the country and away from her.
He drew in a breath before changing the subject. “So how are you? How’s Dad?”
“We’re fine. Your sister, however, is another matter.”
He closed his eyes and took another bracing breath. His mother might be mad at him for joining the Navy right out of high school and moving across the country, but his little sister Josie was the true Baldwin family problem child.
“What is it now?” he asked.
“It’s too much to get into on the phone since I know you can’t talk and we have limited time, so—”
“I never said that,” he interrupted while stifling a sigh.
She continued as if he hadn’t spoken, “—let me get right to the point. They mailed the invitation for your high school reunion here to the house.”
He did the math and frowned. “My thirteen-year high school reunion?”
“Apparently it’s for everyone. All the graduating classes together. Your sister’s year. Yours. Every alum since the school opened back in the sixties. Your sister’s very excited about it.”
Why? He had an image of the youngest, most recent graduates all taking selfies while the geriatric crowd sat and plugged their ears, scowling because the music was too loud.
“Sounds great,” he said with enough sarcasm that even his mother should pick up on it.
She didn’t. “Do you want me to mail the invitation to you there?”
No, he did not since he wouldn’t be there to receive it. He didn’t mention that but did ask, “When is the date of this thing?”
With any luck it was while he’d still be out of the country.
“November something,” she answered.
Over six months away. Crap.
Barring any unforeseen circumstances, the team would be back in Coronado in time for him to attend. And, given the fact they’d just have returned from a six-month deployment and at that point he wouldn’t have taken leave for a year he’d be due.
Command would grant his request. He’d be able to fly home for a visit, which meant he’d also have to attend this thing he didn’t want to go to while there.
He’d have no good excuse not to.
But if he knew one thing from being in the military for all of his adult life it was that no date was ever set in stone. There was a good chance his plans would change and he wouldn’t get home in time to attend.
He could only hope…
“Speaking of dates…” his mother continued. “Would you be bringing one home with you for the reunion?”
“Real subtle, Mom. And no, I’m not dating anyone.”
“Just asking. You’re not getting any younger.”
He shook his head but decided now was not the time to explain one more time that dating for a Navy SEAL, for him at least, could be more trouble than it was worth.
For now, he’d make his mother happy and pretend he might attend this thing.
“So back to this reunion… Don’t mail the invitation. Can you just take a picture of it and text that to me?” He hesitated. “Do you know how to do that?”
“Quinn Allen Baldwin. I’m turning fifty, not one-hundred. Yes, I know how to text photos. Jeez.”
Even at thirty-one he still felt like a child when his mother pulled out his middle name and that tone of voice. “Sorry. I wasn’t sure.”
He didn’t mention he’d spent a good hour doing long distance tech support over video chat from Djibouti after she’d somehow enabled the audio-description feature on the television and couldn’t turn it off.
“Anything else?” he asked.
“I suppose you have to run off so no. Nothing important.”
His mother had passive-aggressive down to a science. He almost denied having to run off as she’d put it but actually he did have somewhere he needed to be like now.
He couldn’t tell her the rest of his team would already be in the cages doing one final check that their kits were packed correctly for their upcoming deployment.
That was something he needed to do too prior to the zero-seven-thirty team meeting, the last one on base before they rallied for the transport later today.
She knew he was deploying soon but not that they were going wheels-up tonight. Exact timing and locations of troop movements were something he couldn’t discuss with his mother across the country over a non-secure line.
With his hands tied by Op Sec—or perhaps more accurately it was his tongue that was tied—he stifled a sigh. “All right. I’ll call you soon.”
“Oh? Okay. We’ll see.” The sarcasm shaded with doubt had him sighing.
“Love you, Mom,” he said loud and with finality before she returned the sentiment and he disconnected the call.
He did love her and his dad and his annoying little sister Josie. That didn’t mean he relished the idea of rushing home to New York immediately after his boots hit the tarmac in Coronado after being away for six months just to go to his bullshit thirteen-year high school reunion.
Spending long overdue time with family was one thing. It was quite another thing to have to endure a night of awkward conversation and fake smiles with classmates he hadn’t seen in years.
Worse, all of these forced social niceties would have to be executed amid a mixed crowd of other random alumni, both very young and very old, ninety-percent of whom he wouldn’t even know.
What genius had thought that was a good idea?
It was going to suck.
In a town as small as his hometown, everyone within his mother’s orbit, even peripherally, knew what he did for a living. He’d be bombarded with questions ranging from the inappropriate to the ridiculous.
How many confirmed kills do you have? What’s your longest shot? Is being a SEAL really like on television? Are you on SEAL Team Six?
As if Team Seven wasn’t good enough?
He hated all that shit. The dread he felt just thinking about it had him reaching for the bottle of Rolaids on the nightstand, which he realized he’d better shove into his duffel for the transport.
But what he really hated—what was likely the underlying reason for his needing to stock up on antacids—was the battle that continuously raged within him just below the surface. A war between what he owed his family versus the responsibilities of his military career.
Somewhere lost in the middle was what he owed to himself. Some semblance of a personal life. Friends who weren’t part of his team. Maybe a wife and kids of his own.
He’d get around to all that…one day.
That day was not today.
CHAPTER TWO
“Come with me as I get ready for my big date…” Bailey Knowles smiled at the camera.
Her cell phone was currently attached to the clip on the ring light, angled so it would show her move to the teeny tiny closet in her bedroom. Given city apartments, she was happy to have any closet at all.
She flipped quickly through about a dozen hangers, each filled with designer clothing, all of which she’d been given for free as part of
She wasn’t really looking to choose an outfit. She knew exactly what she had to wear. It was the dress that the national retail chain had shipped to her. The one she’d contractually agreed to wear in exchange for the ten-thousand dollars they’d deposited into her account.
Pulling the November-appropriate wool dress out, she spun to face the camera, held it up against herself and said, “Perfect.”
A click of the tiny remote control hidden in her hand and she ended the recording.
Dropping the fake smile, she tossed the outfit onto a nearby chair to be donned later and popped her cell out of its holder.
She typed out the appropriate hashtags, added a catchy caption and then tapped the screen to post the short video to her account.
That done she moved back to the ring light. A few quick adjustments and she had the light and the cell phone set up to capture her, close-up, at her dressing table.
With the clothing endorsement complete she could move on to pimping the makeup line for which she was a brand ambassador.
The job of an influencer was never done…
She hit the button to go live on her TikTok account.
“I’m Bailey Knowles and it’s time for Makeup with Bailey!” she said with exuberance. “Today, I’m going to show you how I take my natural daytime look and kick it up a notch for a night out on the town with my man. I’m going to do that by playing up my eyes and lips. And I can’t wait to show you the new lipstick I discovered…”
The lipstick she’d been well-paid to apply and mention during her next five make-up focused live broadcasts.
She stared into the mirror, but because of how she positioned the cell phone, it appeared to her viewers as if she looked at them as she talked directly to them like a friend. “What I like about this lipstick, besides the fact it’s organic and made by a small woman-owned BIPOC company, is the color selection they offer—”
Motion caught her attention, momentarily drawing her focus away from the two hundred viewers—and growing—who’d already joined the live broadcast in the past minute.
“Um, the selection of colors ranges from light to dark and all the shades in between. I chose for tonight a—”
This time what she saw in the mirror wasn’t just a flash of motion she could write off to her imagination. It was definitely a person.
A scream tore from her throat as she spun to face the black clad, masked intruder.
Man. Woman. She couldn’t tell and it didn’t matter. Someone was in her apartment. With her. While she was alone and defenseless.
Flight versus fight wasn’t even a choice. She had nothing with which to defend herself unless she wanted to pelt the intruder with tubes of lipstick.
Still screaming, she grabbed her cell phone from where it leaned against her mirror and ran.
In her tiny yet costly city apartment there wasn’t much choice of where to run. The person was between her and the door so she went the other direction, to the bathroom where she slammed the door and flipped the lock.
She leaned back against the door, bracing with her legs to keep him, or her, from kicking it in.
Then her mind flashed to all the other things the intruder could do. Shoot through the door, even though she hadn’t noticed a gun.
Chop through it with an ax—yes, she’d seen that old Jack Nicholson movie and that scenario had been horrifying enough then when it hadn’t been happening to her for real.
She needed to get away from the door and hope the lock held. And she needed to call for help. Thank God she’d had the sense to grab her phone.
Backing up until her back was pressed against the sink vanity on the wall farthest from the door, she glanced down at the cell gripped in her hand and realized she’d been live on TikTok the entire time.
Thousands of reactions and comments streamed by. For once in her career she didn’t need or want the outpouring of viewer engagement. She needed real life help, not virtual. Her viewers didn’t know her address. They couldn’t send help or call the police.
Hands shaking, she managed to tap the screen to end the live but before she could navigate to dial 9-1-1, a call came through to the cell.
The name Alexander Barrington appeared on the display and she almost dropped the phone trying to answer with her trembling fingers. Hell, her whole body was vibrating but she somehow managed to connect to the video call.
“Xander,” she wheezed, breathless.
“Bailey. Are you all right? My assistant just called me and said you were being attacked.” Xander, managing partner of the Paragon Agency, was Bailey’s entertainment lawyer slash manager slash agent.
Right now, when she was too scared to even manage to dial 9-1-1, the older man was also her savior.
“Oh my God. Xander, they’re in my apartment.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know. They wore a mask. They were right behind me in my bedroom.” The harrowing tale felt even more horrifying as she voiced what had happened—what was still happening—aloud.
Xander turned to someone standing nearby but out of the frame.
“Call 9-1-1.” When he focused back on her he asked, “Where are you now? Are you safe?”
“I’m locked in my bathroom,” she whispered.
Xander relayed her apartment’s address to the unseen person then his gaze met hers through the cell. “The police are on their way. Are they still in the apartment?”
“I don’t know. Don’t hang up, please,” she begged.
“I won’t. I’m on my way there now and I’ll stay on the line with you the entire time. I promise.”
“But I’m in Brooklyn. You’re in Manhattan.” She’d be dead by the time he made it to her.
“Believe it or not, I just happen to be in Brooklyn.” He smiled. Apparently the man could maintain his cool and remain calm both in negotiations and life threatening emergencies. “Help is on the way. Stay there with the door locked.”
“I will.” She didn’t see that she had any other choice.
The longest ten minutes of her life passed by until finally, Xander said, “Bailey, I’m here. So are the police. Can you open the door and let us in?”
Xander and the police had arrived at the same time? In her opinion, that said a lot for the response time of her manager but not so much for that of the Brooklyn PD.
“I’m afraid,” she said, her voice shaking.
She hadn’t heard any noise, any indication the person was still there waiting for her, but she still couldn’t bring herself to unlock the door and give up her only line of defense.
What if they were still there silently lying in wait to attack the moment she opened the bathroom door? By the time the police got inside, she’d be a goner.
“I know you’re scared, but we’re right here. I promise you, we’ll break down this door to get to you if anything happens. Okay?”
“Okay.” Tears welled in her eyes as she reached for the knob. Opening the door slowly she got her first look at the destruction. “Oh my God.”
“What’s wrong?”
“They trashed the place,” she told Xander, striding toward the apartment’s door to the hallway. Pissed now, she yanked it open and lowered the phone as she came face-to-face with Xander and two uniformed officers.
Xander Barrington was at least ten years older than she was. Always impeccably dressed in a suit, and almost always at the office except when he was out entertaining clients, he was the adult in her life while she still felt like she was a kid playing at being one.
That was just one of a dozen reasons their relationship was strictly professional and always would be.
He was like the father she wished she’d had—although she was always careful to never say that to him. She had a feeling the man had a vain streak that might not appreciate the comparison. But right now, a father to protect her was exactly what she needed.
Xander strode inside her apartment. A man on a mission in a suit that fit like it had been made for him and had probably cost more than her rent.
He stopped in front of her and asked, “You all right?”
When the tears started to flow, she shook her head.
He mumbled a cuss and wrapped on arm around her shoulders a bit awkwardly before pulling his arm back.
