Page 24 of The Prince and the Bodyguard
“Have you ever seen the Pacific Ocean before?” Bash asked, breaking the silence that had stretched between us since we’d left campus.
“I’ve been to the States several times and frequented some American beaches, like the Hamptons and Martha’s Vineyard, but always the Atlantic side. And while I’ve visited many countries in Asia, that does not quite feel like the same ocean, even if it technically is.” I glanced at him, grateful for the neutral topic. “You?”
“I was stationed at Camp Pendleton for a while, so I’ve seen it, but I’ve never been this far north. My guess is this will be far more dramatic.”
“Dramatic sounds appropriate,” I said dryly, and Bash shot me a look that was equal parts amused and nervous.
We lapsed back into silence, but it felt less strained now, more like two people building up courage rather than two people avoiding each other. The GPS indicated we were only ten minutes from our destination, and I was simultaneously eager to get there and terrified of what we might say to each other once we did.
When we finally crested a hill and caught our first full view of the Pacific, I gasped. This coastline was all drama and raw beauty, with towering cliffs dropping down to rocky shores, massive waves crashing against stone formations that looked like ancient sentinels, and everywhere, the endless expanse of steel-gray water stretching toward the horizon. It reminded me of the Causeway Coast of Northern Ireland, one of my favorite spots in the United Kingdom.
“Jesus,” Bash breathed, pulling into a small gravel parking area that served a trail leading down to the beach. “That’s quite the view.”
We sat there for a moment, both staring out at the ocean. What a contrast between this wild, untamed coastline and the carefully manicured world I’d grown up in. Everything about this place felt honest, unpretentious, real in a way that made my chest ache with a need to be as wild and free as the ocean was here.
“Come on,” Bash said finally, opening his door. “Let’s walk.”
The trail down to the beach was steep and rocky, requiring enough attention that we couldn’t do much talking. Which was probably for the best since I was still trying to figure out how to begin the conversation we’d come here to have. Though Bash somehow managed to smoothly tackle the trail while still keeping his head on a swivel, as he called it, always scanning for possible danger. He had to know we were safe here, but he never let up, always vigilant.
By the time we reached the sand—coarse and gray, nothing like the pristine white beaches of the East Coast—I was no closer to knowing what to say.
The ocean was even more impressive at sea level. Waves rolled in with hypnotic regularity, each one crashing against the shore with a sound like distant thunder. The air was sharp with salt and seaweed and sand as I inhaled deeply, wanting it to fill my lungs. A few seabirds wheeled overhead, and in the distance, a couple was throwing sticks into the water for their two retrievers, but otherwise, we had the beach to ourselves.
“It’s beautiful,” I said, having to raise my voice slightly over the sound of the waves.
Bash nodded, his hands shoved deep in his jacket pockets as he stared out at the water. “Makes everything else seem pretty small.”
We started walking along the shoreline, our footsteps muffled by the sand, both of us apparently content to let the ocean do the talking for a while. There was something soothing about the rhythm of the waves, the endless cycle of approach and retreat that calmed me.Panta Rhei, my philosophy professor had taught us. Everything flowed and nothing would ever stay the same. How appropriate for the situation we found ourselves in.
“So,” I said at last, when the silence had stretched long enough that I was starting to lose my nerve entirely. “About last night.”
Bash’s steps faltered slightly, but he didn’t stop walking. “Yeah. About that.”
“I need you to know that I don’t regret it. Kissing you, I mean. I’m aware it’s bloody complicated and makes everything more difficult, but I don’t regret it.”
He was quiet for so long that I started to panic. Maybe he did regret it. Maybe he was starting to wish he’d never met me. The thought stabbed like a dull knife.
“I don’t regret it either,” he said finally, so quietly, I almost missed it over the sound of the waves.
Relief flooded through me so suddenly that I actually stumbled slightly in the sand. “You don’t?”
“Hell, no.” He stopped walking and turned to face me, his brown eyes intense in the light that filtered through the clouds. “Eddie, that was the best thing that’s happened to me in years.”
The raw honesty in his voice made something flutter in my chest. “Really?”
“Really.” He scrubbed a hand over his face, looking suddenly vulnerable in a way I’d never seen before. “But that doesn’t mean it isn’t wrong on every level.”
I nodded, because he was right. Whatever was developing between us came with more complications than either of us knew how to navigate. “Because of your job.”
“Because of everything,” Bash said. “My job, your… background, the fact that we’re living together and I’m supposed to be protecting you, not…”
“Not what?” I asked when he trailed off.
“Not wanting you.”
He wanted me. Hewantedme. Bash wanted me.
The words echoed through my head. I hadn’t imagined it. He really was attracted to me. I felt like I might float away if not for the solid ground beneath my feet. “I want you too.”
