Page 28 of Thirsty Bodyguard Summer

“Stay where I put you.”

His eyebrows lifted.

“You asked.”

“That answer was almost cruel.”

“It was accurate.”

“I was hoping for something more heroic.”

“You’re the protected person. Heroic improvisation is off the schedule.”

Shane studied me. “You really believe needing protection doesn’t make me weak.”

“I wouldn’t do this job if I thought the people who hired us were weak.”

“Some of them probably are.”

“Some of them are idiots. That’s a separate condition.”

His laugh filled the small cottage.

We finished dinner. I packed the leftovers into the refrigerator while Shane cleared the containers and wiped salsa from the table without being asked. He handed me the last unopened electrolyte drink.

“Keep it,” I said.

“I’ve had two.”

“You’ve also rehearsed, been chased out of a restaurant, and discovered another threat.”

“So have you, except for the rehearsal.”

“I’m not performing Saturday.”

“That’s disappointing.”

“You haven’t seen my dancing.”

“I’ve seen you move me through a kitchen.”

“That wasn’t dancing.”

“It had rhythm.”

I closed the refrigerator.

Shane stood on the other side of the kitchenette, near enough that I could see the faint shadow of stubble along his jaw. His golden hair had dried in uneven waves, and the longer strands on top kept falling toward his forehead.

I wanted to push them back.

I kept both arms at my sides.

“You’re doing it again,” he said.

“Doing what?”

“Looking at me like the threat assessment has become personal.”