Page 72 of Things I Read About
I roll my eyes when I get to the outer edge of the front pastures. Shep said it was vital that I throw corn out so this wild family of deer stays on their land and doesn’t wander to the neighbors. So here I am, tossing kernels. I remind myself, it brings them joy to see the deer, and I’m already out here anyway. It’s fine. What’s a little bit more sweat?
I jump up and drop the bucket at a sudden noise, reminded quickly and pointedly about my situation. I am not safe. Things are not fine. I put my hands on my knees and breathe when I see it’s just the gator. The gator and one very pissed off bodyguard.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“Feeding. I told you, morning and evening.”
He kills the engine. “New rule. Didn’t think I would have to say this out loud but that’s my bad. You’re you, after all. No going outside alone in the dark.”
I flinch. “Okay, you don’t have to yell.”
“Well for a genius”—he climbs off the cart and stalks up to me—“you are not making smart choices, here. If an attacker were going to cut the exterior security feed and abduct you, right here at the edge of the property, right now in the dark, this is exactly how he would do it.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Sorry doesn’t matter if you’re dead, Sally.” He seems huge in front of me, scanning over my head, hands on his hips, massive chest heaving. His eyes are almost wild.
I touch his arm. “I got it. No going outside at night.”
He backs out of my touch and his eyes go from scared to angry to blank. He looks down at me, then reaches down and picks up the bucket. He hands it to me then walks back to the gator.
As he climbs in, he says, “You’re my last charge. The last guard job before I switch from babysitter to strategist, so I’m a little on edge.”
Babysitter!
I put a hand on my hip. “Well, this last job might go a bit better if you act more professional. You probably shouldn’t yell at your clients.”
“You’re not my client. William Clark is my client. His son Emerson. Client. You are the kid sister I’m supposed to keep alive. If I have to yell at you to do that, so be it.”
It’s my chest that’s heaving, now.
Kid?
And the look on his face. He really can’t stand me. Right now, the feeling is mutual.
As I walk toward the four-wheeler, my phone buzzes in my pocket. I look at the message and smile. “I have plans tomorrow evening so I will have to do this early anyway, it won’t be dark.”
Nate has gone back to disinterest, simply scanning the fields around us. But he does ask, “What’s tomorrow?”
“Joe and I have a date.”
18
“Hey, babe,” Joe says as soon as he sees me.
Babe.
My stomach roils with nerves. As if dates aren’t normally nerve-wracking enough. And now I’m having one with both Nate and Joe at the same time.
Well, no, Nate’s not really here. But he is.
I can feel the magnetic draw of his body and the tingly sensation when I suspect he’s watching me. This was a bad idea.
“You look smoking hot, as always,” Joe says, looking me up and down.
I chose a very revealing tank top, jeans, because restaurants are always frigid to accommodate for the Texas heat outside,and high wedged sandals.
He moves in to grab my butt and kiss my mouth but, as always, I clam up. “Sorry,” he says after a quick peck-and-squeeze. “No PDA, I forgot.”
