Page 82 of Thirsty Bodyguard Summer

“What kind of place?”

“A bungalow four streets from the water. Two bedrooms, a screened porch, and enough room in the living area for the piano without making everyone walk around it sideways.”

I held the key tighter.

“When did you do that?”

“I started looking after my third trip back.”

“You didn’t tell me.”

“I wanted to know I could make the decision without turning it into a promise I hadn’t earned yet.”

I searched his face. “Is this your Florida place?”

“It’s my home base.”

Shane stepped closer. “I’ll still record in Orlando, Los Angeles, or wherever the label sends me. I’ll still travel forshows. You’ll still take assignments that have nothing to do with me.”

“That part wasn’t negotiable.”

“I know.” His mouth curved briefly. “You made it memorable.”

He’d come back for every visit we’d scheduled. When a storm delay canceled my flight to him, he’d driven to Sunbreak Harbor the next morning instead of treating the missed weekend like proof that distance couldn’t work. He kept clothes in one drawer at my place without filling the closet. I kept sunscreen, spare trainers, and a phone charger in his recording apartment.

He’d never asked me to follow the tour. He kept making the next plan.

“The bungalow has space for your gear,” he said. “There’s a hook inside the front door for your work bag, and the porch has enough room for whatever stretching equipment you keep claiming isn’t torture.”

“It’s a portable barre.”

“It’s a railing that judges me.”

“You have poor form.”

“I have dancer form.”

“You have a performer’s confidence and tight hamstrings.”

He laughed.

Then he drew me closer.

“I’m not buying you a house,” he said. “I bought myself a home in the town where I keep wanting to return.”

My throat tightened.

“I want you to make it ours, Cassi.”

“When I’m here, I want to live there with you,” he continued. “When I’m gone, I want you to treat it as yours instead of waiting for me to come back and unlock it. I want your clothes in the closet, your food in the kitchen, and your terrifying calendar on the wall.”

“My calendar isn’t terrifying.”

“It has color-coded contingencies.”

“It’s organized.”

“It frightened Tracy.”