Page 23 of Thirsty Bodyguard Summer

Shane moved toward the bedroom without another argument.

I used the time to check the interior corridor with the agent stationed outside.

Three minutes later, Shane returned with a duffel over one shoulder and his phone in his hand.

“You really can follow instructions,” I said.

“You’ve spent twenty-four hours making it sound attractive.”

“That still isn’t why you’re following them.”

“No.” His humor faded. “Someone photographed the exact moment you got me out of that restaurant and left it where I sleep. I understand the difference now.”

I held his gaze for one beat, then opened the corridor door.

“Stay on my left.”

“I remember.”

Shane stayed there.

We moved through the inn’s back corridor, past a linen room and a locked staff door, then crossed a short covered path between cottages. An SBS agent walked ahead. Rafi followed behind us after securing the evidence in the vehicle.

The new cottage sat farther from the beach route, screened by thicker landscaping and a solid privacy fence. It had one controlled entrance and no direct public approach. An agent already held the exterior position near the side path.

Carlos unlocked the door himself.

The cottage opened into a compact living area with pale-blue walls, a kitchenette, and a small settee beneath the front window. French doors led to a private patio enclosed by the fence.

I checked the locks, windows, patio, and bedroom while Shane remained near the kitchen without wandering into my path.

The bedroom contained one king bed.

I returned to the living area and pressed the settee cushion. It was narrow, short, and shaped like it had been designed by someone who hated human spines.

Shane leaned against the counter. “Let me guess. Two keys and one bed.”

“One key is staying with Carlos. The other is staying with me.”

“So the inn improved the trope.”

“This isn’t a trope. It’s the most secure available cottage.”

“With one bed.”

“And a settee.”

He crossed the room and sat on it. His knees rose several inches above his hips, and one broad shoulder nearly touched the window.

The settee creaked beneath him.

Shane stood again. “That was insulting.”

“You hurt its feelings.”

“It tried to fold me in half.”

“You’re six foot two. Most furniture considers that hostile.”