Page 93 of The Bodyguard's Fall
Though he must have been starving, Tate only smiled. For the first little while, he held himself slightly tense, no doubt searching every face that passed. He made the rounds at every store we wandered into and assessed every dark corner, but eventually, even he seemed to relax. He stuck close to me when I wanted to look at something and rolled his eyes appropriately when I pointed out a funny t-shirt or keychain. When we passed through a crush of tourists standing outside the general store, he grabbed my hand and pulled me close.
He still held my hand when we wandered out to see the covered bridge, even humoring me when I decided I wanted to walk through it. The bridge shouldn’t have been a big deal. They were definitely not an oddity in Vermont. Autumn Ridge had its own covered bridge leading onto Main Street. But somehow, the smell of fall, the crisp air, the crowds, and the man holding my hand made this quaint little town radiate with a romantic glow.
Plot Twist: Holding hands with the guy you’re in a sham undercover relationship with hits different when you’re married.
The restaurant gave us a corner booth in the back, per Tate’s request. He sat on the side against the wall, where he could watch the entire restaurant bustling about, leaving me to relax and happily peruse the menu without a care in the world.
“What are you getting?” I asked him after I’d finally made my choice of steak.
“Chicken salad.”
I jolted and looked up to see him watching me, a soft teasing in his eyes that made my stomach flip.
“You are not.”
“Tonight, of all nights, it just sounds good.”
I shook my head, pursing my lips in an attempt to hold back the smile wanting to break free.
In the end, relief and disappointment flooded my body when he ordered a New York Strip. But as I sat across from him in the restaurant, a new memory surfaced.
“Do you remember that night you and Will crashed my date with Brock Howard at the Maple Bar and Grill?”
The smile on his face told me that, yes, in fact, he did remember.
“You mean the night we accidentally and very innocently bumped into you at the bar and grill? One of only three places to eat in town,” he countered.
“The night you two chose to sit in the booth right beside ours and talk loudly about your latest hunting skills.”
“If we don’t tell people about it, did it really happen?” he asked, his hands out innocently.
“You don’t even hunt! You guys kept talking all about how you skinned whatever you caught. With a knife. In great detail.”
He closed his eyes briefly, laughing. “I plead the fifth.”
“How do we tell Will?” I asked a while later, after taking a bite of my perfectly cooked steak.
“Let me worry about that.”
“If you end up missing, I’ll just assume Will must have found out.”
Tate huffed out a laugh, but didn’t look overly concerned by the prospect.
Later, when the bill came, the price of my food and the fact that it was my idea to eat somewhere fancy began to weigh on me. Tate was already doing me a huge favor, and now I was making him buy me steak. I reached into my purse, retrieved some cash, and began to count out the bills.
“What are you doing?” Tate asked.
“I’m going to pay. I didn’t really mean for you to have to buy me dinner. I think marrying me is enough of a price to pay today,” I half joked before I looked up at him. The expression on his face halted whatever else I was about to say.
“You’re not paying for dinner,” he said, ignoring the wad of cash I was holding out to him. He signed the receipt and slipped his wallet into his back pocket before standing up and slipping out of the booth.
“Yes.”
“No.”
I waved the money at him. “Please. At least for my half. This was my idea.”
Tate, a little incredulously and a lot sexily, set his palms on the table as he leaned down, his face inches from mine. My eyes were naturally drawn to his lips as he spoke slowly, calmly, and without any room for argument. “There is no way on this green earth I will be letting you pay a dime for this dinner. Put your money away. You’re with me now.”
