Page 67 of The Bodyguard Affair
A bra and underwear are the same thing as a bikini, I remind myself, unzipping my dress.
His searing gaze burns a trail from my eyes, down my breasts, over the valley of my stomach, and down before he seemingly snaps out of it. “The water’s great. Really warm!” he calls out.
I take his word for it. With a running leap, I plunge in. Holy shit. It’s ice-cold. “You liar,” I say, splashing him. “It’s freezing.”
He tosses his head back in a carefree laugh, which echoes across the lake. “I forgot to mention that I did underwater diving training in Antarctica. My idea of warm is probably skewed.”
I snort, my body adjusting as the water gradually becomes more bearable, enveloping me like a sheet of chilled silk. “See any penguins?”
“Of course. And walruses. They’re pretty friendly, actually.”
I chuckle, floating on my back next to him. “How many oceans have you swum in, Mr. Antarctic Diver?”
He pauses, doing the mental math. “All of them, except for the Indian Ocean, I think.”
I let out a whistle, both impressed and also entirely unable to imagine living that kind of life. I can only imagine how stifling a boring government city must feel for him. How much he must miss traveling to far-off, far more exciting places than here.
“Do you think you ever want a home? A permanent one?” I dare to ask, regret clawing its way up my throat instantly. It’s probably too personal a question, even though I already knowthe answer. Nolan wants thrilling new experiences, adventure, unpredictability, not the same old routine every day, in bed by ten. He wants more than I could ever offer.
“I don’t know. It’s hard to imagine.” He wades a little closer, shaking the beads of water from his face. The droplets cling to his beard, sparkling in the moonlight.
“Understandable,” I say, swallowing as the distance between us closes. “Especially if you haven’t stayed in one place in so many years.”
“I used to, though. When I was a kid. There was actually a house at the end of my grandma’s street that I loved,” he tells me, his tone tinged with nostalgia.
“What was it like?”
“Em and I called it the yellow house, because it was the only house on the street with colored siding. All the other houses were brick. It had this white front porch that was always overflowing with flowers in the spring and summer, and covered with leaves in the fall. Every night, the lights would be on and they’d have the fireplace going in the living room. I think a couple lived there, though I never met them.”
I close my eyes and imagine the warm, inviting glow on a snowy winter night. “That sounds magical.” I don’t miss the way the moonlight catches his lips.
“It was magical,” he continues. “There was this little trail next to the house that led to a forest with a ravine. My sister and I used to spend hours in that forest, running wild, playing hide-and-seek, fishing, and catching frogs. In the winter all the neighborhood kids would skate on the frozen water. Whenever I was back there, I didn’t have to think about anything else. Ididn’t worry about my mom, or where Em and I would end up next.”
“Have you been back since?” I ask gently.
“No, not since long before my grandma died. I actually forgot about the house until just now when you asked.” He pauses, expression growing forlorn at the bittersweet memory. “How about you? What’s your dream home?”
“I’ve never thought that far ahead,” I admit. “It’s funny. When I was writing all the time, I’d think about my characters’ futures, mapping out their lives in vivid detail. But I never did the same for myself. I guess I’ve always lived to get through the day, the week, the next project.”
“Live to get through,” he repeats, as though tasting the words.
“I’m fully aware of how sad that sounds.”
He shakes his head, his eyes latching on to mine. “No. I get it. The future is scary.”
“It is. I don’t even know what I want anymore.” Being with someone, sharing my life with someone, is overwhelming. But being completely alone suddenly doesn’t sound as appealing as it used to.
“Maybe,” he says, voice calm and steady, “you could start with slowing down. Living in the moment. It might help you figure out what you really want.” He gestures around us, as though asking me to take it all in. Even in the moonlight, it’s hard to see anything except the blackness of our immediate surroundings.
I do absorb it all. The glow of our skin, contrasting the cool darkness of the water lapping against us. The chirp of a distantbullfrog. For the briefest of moments, everything fades around us, aglow.
“Is it working?” he whispers.
I nod, a small smile tugging at my lips as the tension melts away into the water. “Kind of.” Truthfully, I’m not sure I’m able to see past what’s directly in front of me. Him. I don’t say that part out loud. A soft breeze blows over us, and my teeth begin to chatter.
“You’re freezing, aren’t you?”
“No,” I say, because under his gaze, I feel the opposite. I wade a little closer and so does he.
