Page 67 of These White Lies
A bright pink washes over her cheekbones. “It’s one of the only things I could pull on easily, and it has a built-in bra. So, two birds, one stone.”
My eyes immediately drop to her breasts. A small crossbody bag divides them, defining the shape. Jesus.
Her hair is flowing loose over her shoulders, and for a second, I’m frozen—my chest tight in a way that can’t be healthy. She looks unguarded like this, and I love it.
Focus on the job.
I shoulder my bag and make my voice casual. “There’s bagels if you want them. Head out in fifteen?”
She nods and reaches for her own bag. I can tell it’s heavy by how she’s gripping it, and I catch sight of the corner of her laptop peeking out. Understanding clicks. “You’re bringing work?”
“I have to.” Her chin juts up in familiar defiance. “Deadlines don’t care about road trips. It’s almost four hours to Savannah. I can’t waste that time.”
I’m tempted to tell her no, but as much as I enjoy sparring with her, what am I going to say? You work too much?
It’s the kind of thing a boyfriend would say, not her bodyguard.
I realize how much I crave the right to say something.
Fuck. Knock it off.
I hold out my hand. “I’ll take it down for you. No argument.”
Her lips part to protest, but she hands it over without a word.
“Before we go…” I reach into my bag and pull out the weapon she’d asked for last night. I’d intentionally chosen a model similar to the one Luke said she gave the police, so she should be comfortable with it. “You ask, and you shall receive.”
Her fingers close around it immediately, and the look that crosses her face loosens something in my chest. The tension riding her frame eases by a fraction, like giving her back a piece of control lets her breathe again.
I know better than to comment on it. Instead, I cover the sudden jolt of emotion with the only shield I trust—banter. “You know how to use that, right? You’re not one of those people who buys a gun for Instagram and then screams if it goes bang?”
Her eyes snap to mine, cool and cutting. “I grew up in the country. I can shoot. Possibly better than you.”
The bite in her voice rolls right off me. God help me, I like her like this. Grinning I rub my hands together. “Road trip time.”
She mutters something under her breath as she tucks the gun into the crossbody bag and stalks past me toward the door.
I watch her walk away, my eyes tracking the sway of her skirt and the quick flash of bare thigh with every step. I can’tnotwatch. The combination of steel and softness is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.
I settleinto the driver’s seat and ease the SUV into the early morning traffic. The wide stretch of interstate is already busy enough to demand my full attention.
Elizabeth sits beside me with her phone in hand, thumbs moving fast as she types. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the way she holds herself—back straight, shoulders tight, her entire body keyed up as if she’s in fight mode.
“Do you ever stop and relax?” I ask. “Or are you going to be glued to that thing for the whole trip? You’re missing the scenery,” I say, with my tongue pressed to the inside of my cheek.
Just as I planned, she glances away from her phone long enough to stare at me. “Is there an important billboard I missed?”
I snicker because I only said it to get a rise out of her.
“I’ve got things to handle,” she says stiffly.
“I’ve met drug lords with fewer attachment issues to their jobs.”
“Between the escorts you told me about and now drug lords, I’m wondering about your marketing approach?” She’s staring at her phone, but I see her smile.
After a couple of hours, we leave the interstate and take the smaller highway east. The road narrows to two lanes in each direction, and the exits are spaced far apart. Tall pine trees line both sides of the road, cutting off most of the view beyond the shoulder. I keep one hand on the wheel, my eyes moving as they track every car that comes up behind us.
“What’s today’s life-or-death emergency?” I ask, keeping my eyes on the road. “Did someone forget to stock your client’s preferred La Croix flavor?”
