Page 43 of Tate
“In case you’re wondering, you’re staying. So, get yourself some medical help.”
He frowned.
“I can tell when a man is in pain.” She let go of his hand. “Then, call your CIA contact. We need to track down these guys before they kill me—or my daughter.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She reached out for her husband, who had gone over to hug Glo. He took her hand, glanced at Tate, and gave him a grim smile.
Then, from the senator, “Sloan, we may need your help calming these masses.”
Sloan headed out after her.
Glo looked like she might follow, and Tate didn’t move, didn’t watch her go. But he was bracing himself to turn, to force himself to trail the happy couple for the rest of the evening.
“Tate.”
Glo stopped in front of him, and he sighed, looked down.
Wow, she was pretty. It could knock him flat, the way she became prettier the longer he knew her. Silky blonde hair in curls he longed to wrap his fingers around, her face a little flushed, those hazel-green eyes.
Except, oh, she had fire in her eyes, and he braced himself.
“Really?Really? You work for my mother?”
“Glo—”
Now tears filled her eyes. “Don’t you think it was hard enough to say goodbye to you? Now I have to watch you watch me everywhere I go?”
“Don’t worry, sweetheart, I won’t get in the way of you and Slick.” Oh, he hadn’t meant for any of that to emerge and immediately swallowed, ground his jaw, and looked away.
He still felt her gaze on him, and after a moment, he hazarded a glance back at her.
Oh, she was lit, nearly a firecracker ready to blow for the way she looked at him. “For your information, Sloan and I are childhood friends. Nothing more.”
“That’s not what it looked like.” And oh, he should just shut up.
She planted her hands on her hips. “Really? Because I thought security is supposed to be invisible and impartial. Be seen and not heard?—”
“Unless we’re saving you and your boyfriend from a bullet.” Sheesh, he might as well give it up.
Her mouth pinched, and she considered him. “You know, you should quit before this gets ugly.”
“Oh, it’s already a train wreck. But I’m staying, sweetheart. Because someone has to keep you alive.”
“Then avert your eyes,” she snapped. “Because guess what, you’re going to be seeing a lot more of Sloan Anderson in my life.”
“Perfect. I can’t wait.”
She wore tears now and angrily swept them away. And he was a royal, tier one jerk. “Glo?—”
“That’s Miss Jackson to you, Mr. Marshall. Remember your place.”
Then she brushed by him, slamming the door behind her.
Tate hung his head, unmoving. Only then did he remember Sly still stood in the room.
“So, I was right. You two are a thing.”
