Page 81 of Thirsty Bodyguard Summer

“Three.”

“You checked the stairwell twice.”

“That counts as one exit.”

His smile warmed. “Come outside with me.”

I glanced toward Sloane.

She lifted her glass without looking over. “Go. We know how to reach you.”

Shane held out his hand.

I took it.

He led me down the curved stairs and through the boathouse door. Warm air moved off the harbor, carrying salt and the faint sweetness of my drink. Strings of lights wrapped the dock railing. Beyond it, decorated boats rocked against their slips beneath a clear black sky.

My gold sandals clicked across the boards. Shane matched my pace.

Six months ago, he’d moved when I told him. Since then, he’d matched my walking pace and learned to give me ten quiet minutes after a difficult assignment. I knew how he sounded when a song wasn’t working and when the easy smile meant he needed one more question.

He stopped near the end of the dock.

“Your new single is good,” I said.

“You told me that before it was mixed.”

“It was good then too.”

“You said the bridge needed work.”

“The bridge needed work.”

He laughed. “This is why I send you music before anyone else.”

“Because I’m right?”

“Because you listen to the whole thing before telling me I’m right.”

I set my drink on the rail. “You didn’t bring me out here to discuss the bridge.”

“No.”

He reached into his trouser pocket and pulled out a brass key on a plain silver ring.

I stared at it.

Shane placed it in my palm.

“This isn’t a hotel key,” I said.

“Excellent threat assessment.”

“What does it open?”

“I bought a place.”

Music and laughter still drifted through the open boathouse door.