Page 81 of The Bodyguard Affair
“He’s a good boy. Good to a fault. I know how much he worries about me. He always has, ever since he was a little boy,” she says. Before Nolan went to Montreal, he left me detailed notes about Lorna, everything from when to serve her pre-prepared meals to how to administer her medication and how to dress her burns, and he included a list of numbers for her nurses and doctors. He also insists on calling me every couple hours to make sure things are okay, which is really sweet. “It feels like yesterday he was taking care of Em, making sure she did her homework, got to school. Gosh, he grew up fast.”
I nod.
Her eyes well appreciatively. “You’d be amazed by how fast the decades pile up and pass you by. How little time we have, even the luckiest of us. That’s why I’m so grateful he found someone like you. Someone who lights him up from the inside out. He needs that.”
I think about how quickly the past few years have flown by since I’ve worked for Gretchen. I’d be lying if I said I took advantage of all that life has to offer. If anything, I’ve been going through the motions, just getting through the day, trying to stay as busy as possible so I don’t have to think too hard about my life.
I think about that as we finish the block before Lorna starts to get tired. I can tell by the way she’s losing her train of thought mid-sentence.
Theresa is at the house by the time we return so I can get to work. It’s a busy day, as Gretchen has an appearance at the children’s hospital. It gives me a couple free hours to get things done in advance before Mexico.
Normally, I’d work past dinner, but tonight, I make sure to head back by four to relieve Theresa. Lorna still remembers me by the time I arrive, thankfully, and we spend the night chatting on the deck, followed by some TV before she turns in early.
It’s only eight, which is more time than I usually have to myself before sleeping, so I use the extra time for writing. It’s not my desk at home, but it’s near perfect. Nolan’s bed is comfier than I expected for a firm mattress and pillow. Though I noticed Nolan purchased two brand-new soft pillows, which he left on the end of the bed in their original packaging.
I slide under the crisp sheets and pull the comforter to my chin, inhaling his scent, cocooning myself in it as I write (more accurately: type and delete, repeat). About an hour in, my phone dings.
Nolan:Hey, let me know when it’s a good time to call.
Andi:Feel free!
He calls a couple minutes later. “Sorry I haven’t checked in since this afternoon. Things were busy with Eric tonight. He had a town hall that ran later than expected. You know how heis, always wanting to stay and chat. His stalker was also here, so I had to fill out a report.”
“Oh no! Don’t apologize, though. It was a good night.”
“Did my mom think you were Em again?”
“No, actually.” I tell him about our night and how she seemed to be in good spirits today. He seemed pretty down last night when I told him about her confusion, so it’s nice to give him some good news. “Are you back at the hotel?”
“Mm-hm. What are you doing?” His voice is a little gruffer, slower. He sounds tired.
“Your mom went to bed half an hour ago so now I’m lying here, in your bed, struggling to write,” I add, sinking back deeper into the pillow.
He mutters something pained that sounds a lot likeshit. “What are you struggling with? Maybe I can help.”
“No. Not with this particular scene.”
“Why?”
“Because. It’s, um, X-rated.” My cheeks heat at the admission.
He lets out a low hum. “It’s a sex scene?”
“Yup. Now you see why I can’t ask you to help brainstorm ideas.”
He chuckles that low, grumbly laugh, and my heart rate doubles at the mere sound. “It’s not weird at all. Set the scene for me.”
I blow the air from my cheeks. I’ve never confided in anyone about my writing, aside from the odd beta reader online, let alone solicited help for the steamy scenes. But he sounds eager for distraction, and I could use some input, even if it’s awkward. “Well, it takes place on the beach. The couple had a fight and theheroine stomped off on a long walk. The hero follows her to a rocky area and things get…heated. I can’t figure out a way to make it feel fresh since there are already two intimate scenes before this one. It’s an emotional one, so I want it to reflect that.”
“What about oral? Sixty-nine?”
“I’ve never understood sixty-nining. Wouldn’t that get complicated, especially with the sand?”
“It’s really not as hard as it looks.” Jesus. His voice.
“What if there’s a height difference? He’s really tall. She’s really short. I mean, would that work, logistically—” I’m rambling now and my skin prickles with sweat. I throw the comforter off me for some air.
“It can still work,” he assures me, his tone serious, as though he’s running me through the logistics of Eric’s motorcade. “Basically, she has to straddle his face backward.”
