I raise my chin, defiant. “And if I don’t like change?”
The faintest hint of a smile graces those arched lips. “Then you’re shit out of luck with me, princess. This will be a hard few weeks while we work out how to keep that predator away from you in a more…permanent capacity.”
My mouth dries. “There’s more than one person who wrote these.” The admission slips out too freely, but even when I skim over the lines that blurred together after the first glances at the letters, it’s obvious that the hands are different. The threats are worded in other ways, unique to the sender.
Drake holds out his hand. “Only one of them matters. I’ll introduce you to the joys of coffee, and if you’re willing to listen, I’ll show you how to spot a psycho in his words.”
The world shrinks to the pair of us. Before I snapped the letters in his face, I lost myself in the threats on the page that I couldn't read all the way through, and then in mountains that never went behind his chair. The window is so wide, covering the entirety of the wall behind Drake, that I feel as though I might be able to walk straight off the edge of his home, and tumble into the mountain range beyond.
Into freefall.
“Take your time. I’ll be in the kitchen.” Drake pauses at my side. The letters slip from my hand into his. “You’re not allergic to anything?”
My file will have told him what he needs to know, but I confirm the information anyway. Some part of me registers that he asked.
“Strawberries.”
I risk a glance up at him. My eye level barely reaches his chest. Drake nods, his knuckles brushing the back of my hand.Then he strides away, leaving me with the endless vista as cold company.
“Drake.”
His silent footfalls stop, his presence halting not so far behind me. “I’m feeding you, princess.”
I shake my head, letting my hair form a curtain between us. “No one has offered to share information with me before. They just?—”
A breath passes. Another.
“They take it for granted that your world doesn't include you,” he says softly.
I nod and don’t reply.
Drake makes a deep sound in his chest. “Today is about firsts, Cha Cha. Some of it might be overwhelming. I’ll try to go slow.”
“Don’t.” I turn sharply on my heel.
“Yeah?” He eyes me with interest. “You want the full experience, princess?”
I hold his gaze, reading the challenge there. “I want to understand everything."
Something akin to respect flashes across his face, and he nods slowly. “Then we start with coffee. Kitchen. Ten minutes.”
He’s gone, and I turn back to the mountains, drinking in their gliding presence, their magnitude. The sense of passage between. The winds that buffet even though, behind the glass, I’m protected here. If I step outside, I’ll hear their sound.
Perhaps there is music here, after all.
CHAPTER SIX
CHA CHA
Drake places a coffee mug filled to the brim with dark liquid. It looks like tea, but the scent reminds me of something closer to what Kie and Annie used to drink. They both had a passion for iced Americanos while on tour, though I never formed the same addiction.
The mug warms my hands as clods sweep over the mountains to one side of the long kitchen. A long wooden bench dominates the space where Drake braces his forearms, a plate of toast before him.
The corners of my lips turn up, and he catches my smile before I can nullify my expression. One eyebrow gets a workout. I shrug. “I thought my tough guy bodyguard would have something…more. A big overwhelming plate of food.” I wrinkle my nose.
He snorts and finishes up quickly, rising to place his plate in the sink. A quick wash and wipe and the plate is clean and stacked back in the cupboard. Every movement is efficient, nothing wasted, like he’s…
Oh.
