Page 63 of Bulletproof Weeks

Wouldn’t Aimee have made a move if she knew about Izzy? Just the idea of Logan being with her had prompted that one letter. Had it only been a scare tactic, nothing more? More like a bully with nothing to back it up?

The deer certainly negated that. But it also could be just her throwing a tantrum because she couldn’t get to see him. He pinched the bridge of his nose. He didn’t know what to do.

The only thing he did know was that he couldn’t lose Izzy. He sat back and drew her into his arms. “I’m sorry, babe.”

She sighed against his chest. “I know. God, just a few days ago I was thinking, wow…we’re really making this work. And now it just seems like we’re in a holding pattern. Either she’ll come at me, or us, or even some combination of the two, or she’s going to wait us out. I honestly don’t know what’s worse.”

He kissed her temple. It was beyond selfish to ask her to live like this, but what else could he do? Go back to how he was living before? Was he just trading one form of survival for another? Neither of them was truly living. Not with a future attached to it.

“How about I put on one of the tacky disguises I own? We take a day trip out of here. Go someplace that no one knows us. Take a day where I don’t have to hide how much you mean to me.”

She peered up at him. “Yeah?” The ghost of a smile teased her mouth.

“Yeah.” He rose off the couch and dragged her up with him. With her hand in his, he led her into the music room. “Look in that trunk. See what you like.”

“I don’t need a disguise.”

“For me.”

“Oh.” She knelt in front of the old footlocker and unlocked the two huge buckles before flipping the top back. She pulled out three wigs. “Really?”

“Those would be Zeke’s additions.”

She tucked them back in and lifted out a hat. He took it from her and dropped the fedora on her head. She grinned up at him and tugged it down so only one brilliant eye escaped the shadow of the brim.

“Hot.”

Izzy laughed. She reached into the back of the trunk and unearthed a golf cap. “Now this, I can work with.”

“Just the hat?”

“Yep.” She grabbed his hand. “Oh, and handy that you’re beardy again.”

He swiped his palm over his jaw. “I’m not that bad.”

“In this case, very good.”

Twenty

“I don’t know about this, Izzy.”

Bella peeked over his shoulder, into the mirror. “Oh, yeah. No one would recognize you.”

“That’s because I look like an art house douche.”

She laughed. “You’re my douche.”

“Great.” He scratched through the goatee she’d convinced him to leave. It was long enough to make the square lines of his jaw look longer. Actually, he looked like he was going to try out for a villain in a movie, or for a Shakespearean play.

Oddly hot as well.

She dropped the golf cap on his head and handed him his aviators. With the polo shirt and cargo shorts, he was completely transformed.

He turned away from the mirror with a brow cocked. “Now I look like a yuppie douche.”

“No one uses the word yuppie anymore.”

“That’s because douche covers all of it.”

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