Page 26 of Thirsty Bodyguard Summer

“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.”