Page 44 of The Prince and the Bodyguard
“They liked you. Mama’s already planning to send us home with enough leftovers to last a month.”
“I’m looking forward to experiencing everything. The food, the traditions, seeing where you grew up.” Eddie paused, studying my face. “You’ve been different since we got on the plane. More distant.”
I should’ve expected him to notice. Eddie was observant by nature, and we’d been living together long enough that he could read my moods better than I was comfortable with.
“Just trying to maintain appropriate boundaries.”
“Appropriate boundaries,” Eddie repeated, something unreadable in his expression. “Right. Professional distance.”
“Eddie—”
“No, you’re right. Of course.” His smile was polite, controlled, the same one he used with professors and university administrators. “I should freshen up before dinner. What time should we head back?”
The conversation felt wrong, stilted in a way that made me want to cross the space between us and explain that this wasn’t what I wanted, that maintaining distance from him was like trying not to breathe. But that was exactly the kind of thinking that would get me in trouble, the kind of emotional involvement that could compromise everything we’d built.
“Dinner will be at six,” I said instead. “Mama likes to eat early. So we’ll need to leave in about half an hour.”
Eddie nodded and turned toward his bathroom, effectively ending the conversation. I stood there for a moment, looking at the closed door, before heading to my own room and forcing myself to focus on unpacking and getting ready for what was going to be a very long four days.
I quickly washed up, then changed into a nicer shirt. Normally, I’d wear a button-down, but unless I wanted to wear my holster over my shirt—which would upset Mama—I wouldn’t have access to my gun, so that was a no. Home or not, I was still on the job, and despite everything, I took that seriously.
As I quickly restyled my hair, I stopped for a moment. It was hard to look at myself and not see Glenn, as we had looked so much alike. Same hair color, same eye color, same square face. He’d been heavier than me, more muscled, but the genetic relationship between us had been obvious. We’d run into each other a few times, had served in the same area for eight weeks once. Everyone from both our units had commented on the resemblance.
He should’ve been here for this. Hell,heshould’ve been the one bringing someone home to meet the family, the one making Mama fuss over having enough food and whether the guest room was comfortable enough. Instead, it was me, bringing home a prince I couldn’t have while pretending our relationship was purely professional. Glenn would’ve found the irony hilarious, probably would’ve had some smart comment about the complications I created for myself.
But Glenn wasn’t here, would never be here again, and I was going to have to find a way to get through this visit without losing what remained of my professional composure.
Even if it killed me.
16
EDDIE
I woke up to the sound of a shower running in the adjoining room. As usual, Bash was up early again. Had he gone for a run already? Probably not. He wouldn’t feel comfortable leaving me by myself in an unfamiliar environment.
For a moment, I lay in the narrow bed, staring at the cream-colored popcorn ceiling, and tried to summon the energy for what promised to be an emotionally exhausting day. Thanksgiving with the Puller family. Playing the role of the gracious prince while Bash maintained his newly professional distance. Pretending I wasn’t hurt by the careful way he’d been treating me since we’d stepped off that plane, like I was made of expensive china that might break if handled too familiarly.
I understood it to a certain degree. Of course we couldn’t let his family know we were pretending to be boyfriends and especially not that we’d been… intimate with each other.
Oh, bloody hell, Gregory. Hooked up. You hooked up with Bash. No need to protect the innocent here.
No, we couldn’t let his family know the truth. Of course I understood that. But he’d retreated in every way. Would it have been the end of the world if he’d acknowledged to them we’d become friends, that we were close? Apparently, that was not an option.
Fine. If he wanted professional distance, I would give him professional distance. I’d spent my entire life perfecting the art of gracious formality, after all. I could be charming and polite and completely untouchable for one day. I’d done it at state dinners and charity galas and countless other occasions where being myself wasn’t an option.
I just hadn’t expected to have to do it with Bash.
By the time I emerged from my room, showered and dressed in what I hoped struck the right balance between respectful and casual, Bash was waiting in the hallway. He looked good—really good, if I was being honest—in dark jeans and a navy sweater that brought out his eyes. But there was something careful about his posture, something guarded in his expression that made my chest tight with disappointment.
“Mornin’,” he said, his tone perfectly polite as he held the door open for me. “Ready for the full American Thanksgiving experience?”
“Quite ready,” I replied with equal formality. “I’m looking forward to observing your family’s traditions.”
Something flickered in Bash’s expression—surprise, maybe, or concern—but it was gone so quickly, I might have imagined it.
The drive to his parents’ house was filled with the kind of polite conversation we might have had if we’d just met, Bash pointing out local landmarks and me responding with appropriate interest. No mention of the intimacy we’d shared over the past few weeks, of how he’d stayed in my bed more and more, no acknowledgment of the way we’d slept tangled together two nights ago. We were two people fulfilling their respective roles.
This time, no one waited for us at the front door but we let ourselves in. The house smelled like a combination of roasting turkey, cinnamon, and something yeasty that made my mouth water despite my emotional state.
