Chapter Three #2
Rafi turned to Shane. “The cottage stays locked. Any movement goes through Cassidy until relief takes over.”
Shane nodded. “I understand.”
Rafi left.
For the first time since the envelope appeared, the cottage went quiet.
We weren’t private. We had an agent outside, another covering the path, and more SBS staff a call away.
Still, the silence changed the room.
I sat at the small table and opened the chicken bowl. Shane took the chair across from me with two fish tacos and most of the chips.
“You ordered enough food for four people at breakfast,” I said. “How are you hungry again?”
“I danced for thirty-five minutes.”
“You bargained for thirty-eight.”
“I’m recovering from the disappointment.”
I ate a bite of grilled chicken while he squeezed lime across his tacos.
Shane glanced toward the curtained patio doors. “I’m sorry.”
I lowered my fork. “For what?”
“For walking toward the beach yesterday. For thinking the photograph was something I could ignore. For making you explain the danger before I treated it like danger.”
“You followed directions when I explained the bottleneck.”
“I shouldn’t need a child trapped near a restaurant door before I understand that people around me can get hurt.”
“You’ve changed your behavior.”
“That doesn’t erase the first part.”
“No. It means I don’t have to keep fighting the same argument.”
His fingers rested against the taco wrapper. “You expected me to fight the move.”
“I expected questions.”
“I had questions.”
“You packed instead.”
“I’m learning to prioritize.”
“That sounded dangerously mature.”
“Please don’t tell Tracy. She’ll increase my responsibilities.”
I smiled before I could stop myself.
Shane leaned back. “You’re smiling.”
“You’ve seen me smile.”
“I’ve seen your mouth consider it.”
“You were busy staring at my shoulders.”
“I was trying not to.”
“Your effort lacked conviction.”
“Your shoulders lack mercy.”
I ate another bite so I wouldn’t laugh while chewing.
The cottage air-conditioning hummed above us. Outside, palm fronds brushed the privacy fence. The resort sounds had faded to distant wheels over pavers, a child calling for someone named Mom, and the Atlantic beyond the cottages.
Shane finished one taco and reached for the second.
“You said yesterday that every restriction comes with a reason,” he said. “That helps.”
“Most people cooperate better when they understand why.”
“Most people around me stopped explaining years ago.”
I set down my fork.
His expression stayed easy, but the joke had left his voice.
“After the band ended?” I asked.
“After everything turned into a crisis plan.” He ran his thumb along the edge of the wrapper. “Where I could go. Who I could see. Which door I used. What I wore when photographers might be outside. Whether I could answer my own phone.”
“That sounds exhausting.”
“It was probably necessary for a while.” He glanced toward the curtained window. “Then necessary became convenient. Everyone discovered life was easier when I stayed wherever they put me.”
I didn’t ask about the party. The public facts had been part of my briefing. He went still, so I left the rest alone.
“You don’t have to like restrictions,” I said. “You do have to tell me when they start pushing the wrong button, because I can’t work around a reaction I don’t understand.”
Shane met my eyes. “You’d work around it?”
“When I can. I approved breakfast.”
“That ended beautifully.”
“The omelet looked good.”
“It was excellent. The emergency exit was less relaxing.”
“Normal breakfast remains an evolving concept.”
He smiled again. “What about normal dinner?”
“You’re eating fish tacos under armed protection.”
“I’ve had stranger dates.”
“This isn’t a date.”
“I know it isn’t.” He took a bite and chewed. “On a date, I’d have chosen the restaurant.”
“You’d also be paying.”
“I can still pay.”
“Sunbreak Security will bill the label.”
“That isn’t remotely romantic.”
“Neither is expense reimbursement.”
“I’m beginning to think you change the subject when you’re attracted to me.”
I reached for my water. “I don’t hide.”
“No. You step between me and whatever might hurt me.”
The joke dropped from his face.
I drank some water.
Shane set down his taco. “Cassidy, if the person behind those pictures starts focusing on you—”
“I’ll adjust.”
“That isn’t what I was going to say.”
“I know what you meant.”
“Then let me finish.”
I nodded.
“If the risk shifts to you, I’m not going to pretend it’s acceptable because you’re trained.”
“I wouldn’t ask you to.”
“You might.”
“I might ask you to follow instructions while I handle it.”
“That’s different.”
“It’s extremely different.”
He leaned forward, forearms braced on the table. “What am I supposed to do if someone comes after you because of me?”
“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.”
“It is personal. You’re my client.”
“That isn’t the kind of personal I meant.”
I knew exactly what he meant.
The humor left his eyes.
He stepped nearer, giving me time to stop him.
I didn’t.
His T-shirt brushed my knuckles. He smelled like clean cotton, lime, and the faint salt of dried sweat. My pulse accelerated at my throat.
Shane lowered his voice. “Tell me to move.”
I should have.
Instead, I said, “You’re inside my space.”
“I noticed.”
“That usually means I reposition you.”
“I’m willing to cooperate.”
His mouth hovered inches from mine.
A sharp electronic tone split the quiet.
My earpiece flashed against my skin.
CODE 808.
I stepped away so quickly that my hip struck the counter.
Shane closed his eyes. “That system hates me.”
“It doesn’t know you well enough.”
I pressed the control. “Cassidy responding.”
“West patio sensor triggered,” the exterior agent said. “I’m checking it now.”
I crossed to the curtained doors without opening them. “Report before you approach the fence.”
“Visual is clear. A neighboring beach umbrella came over the divider and struck the sensor line. No person entered the side path.”
“Hold coverage while Carlos has it removed.”
“Understood.”
I called Carlos.
“The umbrella belongs to the next cottage,” he said. “I’m having it removed now.”
“Let me know when the route is clear.”
I waited until the exterior agent confirmed the side path was clear again.
By the time I turned, Shane had moved several feet away. He stood beside the settee with both hands in his pockets.
“Everything’s secure,” I said.
“I assumed you’d tell me when it wasn’t.”
His voice had gone careful.
I was on duty. He was my client. The agent outside had the fence, and I had Shane.
His mouth had almost touched mine, and I still wanted it.
I checked my watch.
It was five fourteen.
Relief arrived in forty-six minutes.
AT SIX, THE RELIEF agent stepped inside and accepted Shane’s active coverage.
Shane sat on the settee, one ankle resting across his opposite knee, and listened without interrupting.
“The patio envelope is the latest threat,” I said. “Carlos holds the second key. No staff comes in without verification. Exterior coverage stays in place, and Shane remains inside unless Sloane or I approve movement.”
“I have it,” the agent said.
I removed my earpiece.
The sudden absence of comms pressure against my ear felt almost indecent.
I secured the device, radio, and compact gear in the locked case beside the front door. Then I untied my braid and worked my fingers through the strands.
Shane stood.
His attention followed my hair as it fell around my shoulders.
“That seems unfair,” he said.
The relief agent glanced between us and opened the cottage door. “I’ll be outside.”
“Thank you,” I said.
He stepped out and locked the door from the exterior position.
The protection detail continued without me.
For the first time since I’d met Shane, his safety wasn’t my responsibility.
I picked up the small overnight bag Rafi had brought from the Beacon. “I’ll use the bathroom to change, then I’ll—”
“Stay.”
The word stopped me.
Shane took one step forward. “Not because I need protection. Not because there’s one bed. Stay because you want to.”
My fingers closed around the bag.
“If I leave, the relief agent remains here,” I said. “Your coverage doesn’t change.”
“I understand.”
“You don’t lose anything.”
“That isn’t why I asked.”
“And if I stay, this doesn’t become part of the job.”
“It can’t.” His voice softened. “I’m asking Cassidy to stay. I’m not asking my bodyguard.”
I drew a slow breath.
He’d waited until another agent took responsibility for his safety.
“I’m going to change,” I said.
His gaze warmed. “Should I expect you to come back?”
“Yes.”
I carried the bag into the bathroom before I had to say anything else.