Page 32 of The Bodyguard's Fall

Will: No…

Tate: Or maybe I should say, taking your hot sister out on a date.

Will: WALKER

Tate: Just running errands.

Will: Stay alert. We haven’t seen anything yet.

Tate: Do you think he knows she’s gone?

Will: Too soon to tell.

I had imagined my day sitting in a tractor with Tate. Now that I’d done it once and survived, my comfort zone had settled nicely there. While it was still nerve-wrackingly secluded, the field was so large that if you were paying attention, you could see someone coming for miles, which I appreciated. Running errands in town was something I hadn’t done in a long time.

Tate didn’t seem to have the same internal reservations I did. He grabbed the list off the counter and motioned me toward his black truck, where he proceeded to open my door. Since it was so high off the ground, he helped me inside. His truck smelled like mint gum and hay—a surprisingly appealing combination.

I brought my notebook, determined to get some writing or, at the very least, some scene sketches in at some point in the day.

Tate glanced at the notebook in my lap as he pulled out of the driveway. “I’ll try to make this quick so you can have time to write later today.”

“Did Will bribe you to be nice so we wouldn’t fight so much?” I asked, a knowing look on my face.

“I’ve always been nice, Rawlins. You just refused to see it.”

He smiled smartly over at me.

“Where are we going first?” I asked Tate once we turned onto the main road. He glanced at the list in his hand.

“My dad needs a part at the Tractor Supply store in Shelburne.”

“Okay. Are we really practicing for our cover?” I asked.

“Based on past experience with you, we probably should,” he said, looking annoyingly attractive in a loose-fitting, short-sleeved shirt and his ever present baseball hat slung low across his forehead.

“Last time caught me by surprise. This time, it shouldn't be a problem.” My words sounded confident, but I was anything but sure of this plan.

I’d had boyfriends before, but this all felt…different. With a guy you like, you work up to things like touching and hand holding, and…kissing. It wasn’t usually dropped on a person like this. And especially not with him.

Instead of continuing toward the interstate, he pulled to a stop on Main Street in front of Keller’s Bakehouse. I looked over at him in surprise.

“What are we doing?”

“A trial run. And getting you coffee.”

“And a sticky bun?”

“Obviously.”

“So far, you get one point for being a good boyfriend.” I smiled as I said the words, hoping he wouldn’t notice my heart pounding in my throat.

“Are we keeping score?” he asked, the teasing gleam in his eyes making my stomach flip.

“Nope.” I lifted my chin. “Just me.”

“Alright, this is our practice run,” he said, turning off the ignition. “We are officially on stage. If, by some chance, Leroy finds out where you are, it might help if he sees you in a relationship. Maybe he’ll back off.”

He left it at that. Neither of us said what we were both thinking—that Leroy could potentially get more dangerous—and I was grateful it wasn’t spoken aloud.