Page 34 of The Bodyguard's Fall

“We’re here. Yeah,” I said, smiling and nodding like I’d just contributed something worthwhile to the conversation.

Her face furrowed slightly. Mine froze in horror. Shoot. What was our story again?

“I just…missed the Walkers and decided to come visit. For a while. With him. Tate,” I supplied, like it was my first day on earth.

I was gearing up to say more, no doubt to over-explain and make things much worse, when Tate slid an arm around my waist, pulling me into him.

“We’re here helping my parents with the hay and straw maze,” he supplied easily.

Oh.

Or we can keep things basic and easy and let people assume what they want. Like the surprise dip he gave me at Will’s wedding, I was impressed with how good Tate was at going undercover.

Thankfully, sweet Sadie didn't ask questions. Moving back around the counter, she made easy small talk. “Well, I’m glad you’re both here. There have been so many people moving back into town lately. What can I get you two?”

Tate released me to step up to the counter, ordering two cinnamon buns and some coffee to go, and left me standing there alone. Was this a test? I could already hear him bragging about doing all the heavy lifting. But after a rocky start, I was determined not to be terrible at this. So, I sidled up next to Tate and pressed my arm against his while he chatted with Sadie about the weather.

He looked over at me, amusement lining his face, and I couldn’t figure out why. We grabbed our coffees, and Tate took my hand and the bag of goods Sadie offered. So smooth and without missing a beat.

Dang it. He was good.

“Thanks for coming in,” Sadie called out as we bypassed the open tables at the bakery and brought our bounty to Tate’s truck instead.

We sat in silence for about ten whole seconds.

“Okay,” Tate began. “I need you to be honest. Have you ever had a boyfriend before?”

Despite myself, I laughed, covering my face with my hands. “I wasn’t prepared to answer questions.”

“I was going to jump in earlier but just kept being rendered speechless.”

I swatted his shoulder. “I got better.”

“Your moves could use some work.”

“Well, I don’t make the moves. That’s your job.”

He pretended to be shocked. “You don’t make the moves? Then how do you explain you pressing into my arm like that?”

I gave him a look that he was still smiling about as he backed out of his parking spot and began driving toward the south end of town.

I closed my eyes and took a sip of my hot maple latte, pretending I was taking a walk in the beautiful woods by myself, wearing boots and a scarf, with the crisp leaves crunching beneath my feet.

When Tate opened the bag of goodies, I immediately reached for my sticky bun before sitting back in my seat, enjoying my fluffy piece of heaven with frosting on my fingers and a contented sigh coming from my lips.

“How often do you leave your apartment?”

I glanced over at him. “What?”

“When you’re back at home. How many times on average during the week do you go somewhere?”

“Why?”

“I’m just curious about something.”

I sat there, in a mild panic. The answer was easy. But to an outside person, it also made me sound crazy.

“Sometimes I have mandatory work meetings in Burlington or sometimes even Boston. So I leave then.”