Page 40 of The Prince and the Bodyguard
“I want you to have a proper Thanksgiving,” Bash corrected, though something in his eyes suggested it was more complicated than that. “And yes, I’d love to see my mom, but I can’t leave you here alone, and I can’t drag you to North Carolina without a good cover story.”
“So this would be part of our arrangement. Professional necessity.”
“Right. Professional necessity.” But the way he said it didn’t quite match the expression on his face.
I thought about it—leaving campus, traveling to a completely foreign environment, spending several days pretending to be nothing more than Bash’s protectee while surrounded by his family. It sounded like emotional torture of the highest order, especially given my growing feelings for him.
It also sounded like exactly what he needed. A chance to see his mother, to be with his family during what was clearly an important holiday, without having to worry about leaving me unprotected or compromising his professional responsibilities. “Your parents wouldn’t mind having a stranger crash their family holiday?”
“Nah, Southern hospitality is a thing. If my mama ever caught wind I’d left you alone for Thanksgiving, she wouldn’t speak to me for a week. They’re good people, Eddie. You’d like them.”
The offer was tempting for reasons that had nothing to do with experiencing American culture and everything to do with seeing Bash in his natural environment, meeting the people who’d shaped him, getting a glimpse into the life he’d lived before he’d become responsible for protecting me. “It would mean a lot to you. Being able to go home.”
“It would. But not if it makes you uncomfortable. We can figure out something else?—”
“No.” I made the decision before I could talk myself out of it. “I’d like that. A real American Thanksgiving sounds educational.”
Bash’s face lit up with genuine pleasure. “Yeah? You’re sure?”
“I’m sure. Besides, you should be able to see your mother, especially now. I wouldn’t want to be the reason you missed that.”
“Thank you. This means more than you know.”
“Just promise me you’ll help me navigate the cultural expectations. I have no idea what’s involved in a proper American Thanksgiving.”
“It’s mainly eating a lot of food, most of which will be unfamiliar to you, and most of which will contain boat loads of sugar.”
“That won’t be an issue. I have no allergies and I’ve eaten things far worse than turkey or overly sweet food.”
Bash cocked his head. “Like what?”
“Goat, snake, crickets, crocodile… Those are the first examples that come to mind. I’ve had testicles too, and stomachs and other parts of animals I really didn’t need to know about. All part of my cultural education.”
He shivered. “Ever refused anything?”
I firmly shook my head. “God, no. That’s absolutely not done. But I have thrown up once. Turns out my stomach does not like cow blood.”
His eyes widened to the point of bulging. “Cow blood? Why the fuck would you even try that?”
“It’s a traditional part of the Maasai diet, the famous tribe in Kenya. When we visited, they offered me to try and I could not refuse. Luckily, I didn’t throw up until we were back in the jeep so they never saw it.” I was nauseous even thinking about it now. “All I’m saying is that I don’t particularly fear the food I’ll be served.”
“Yeah, no kidding after that.” Bash scratched his chin. “Now we have to figure out the logistics. I’ll need to talk to Ms. Hartwell first and get her approval.”
I winced. Rebecca was, to put it mildly, not a fan of last-minute plans. But surely in this case, it wouldn’t be too much of a bother since it wouldn’t even involve her team.
“And then there’s the matter of how to get there,” Bash continued. “We don’t really have the time to drive down, ’cause that would take days. We could fly, but airports are security nightmares, especially during holiday travel. Lots of crowds, lots of opportunities for someone to recognize you. Pretty sure Ms. Hartwell would not be okay with that.”
“I can arrange for a private plane.” I tried to sound casual.
Bash went very still. “A private plane.”
“Obviously, we’d have more privacy, and we could fly directly into a smaller airport near your hometown. Plus, you’d be allowed to carry your gun, which you wouldn’t be able to bring on a commercial aircraft.”
I resisted the urge to apologize for my privilege, for the resources I had at my disposal. At least I was using them for good in this case, or so I told myself. It meant Bash would get to see his mom.
Bash nodded slowly. “Okay. Private plane it is. That actually solves a lot of logistical problems.”
I was grateful he didn’t say anything more. “And for lodging?”
