“Fuel,” he murmurs from his place at the breakfast bar next to me.
We never made it to the formal table, his house too big, it seems tonight, for two people. Instead, we eat in the kitchen, our plates lined up next to each other’s.
“I can’t.” I try not to sound petulant and fail. “This is good.” I sip my smoothie through the glass straw he’s provided.
“Good? A roaring compliment from you, princess.” Drake doesn’t use my first name, taking the sting out of his sarcasm.
I sink into my stool, struggling to keep the room in focus. “I can keep going,” I manage, stifling a yawn beyond my hand.
“Shower. Crash. Let’s go again in the morning,” he directs me.
I blink at the scattered seeds swimming in a sea of green goop that tastes remarkably good for the amount of kale, pear and cucumber that my bodyguard stuffed into his blender. “You might be able to. I need to sleep. And…sing.” I shrug. “Do something else.”
Drake pauses beside me, his fork poised an inch above his nearly finished steak. Mine appears almost untouched in comparison. “I can show you the mountains tomorrow,” he offers after a moment. “Take you a little deeper in. Inspiration? It’s quiet,” he adds. “But not silent.”
I swallow a long gulp of smoothie to hide my shock. “Mind reader,” I mutter.
His laugh echoes around the kitchen. “I’ll plan it out.”
“Yourplanstry to kill me, Drake Bodyguard.” I push my plate away after nibbling at my vegetables. “I don’t even know your last name. Why you became a bodyguard. Or who you were in the military.”
Drake spears his last piece of steak, emptying his plate and chews slowly. He finishes his meal, and collects my plate without a word, taking them away. After he’s cleaned up, and I’ve slipped on my stool, ready to fall asleep at the bench, he catches me, turns me in his arms, and leads me along the hall toward the bedroom I used the night before.
“What happened to the shower suggestion?” I swipe a hand across my eyes, but the hallway stays blurry. “Why am I so tired?”
“Because you barely slept, then I worked you like a special ops trainee, princess. You held up pretty well. Got a little dirty, didn’t complain half as much as expected." Approval coats his voice.
I hate that I crave what he offers me.
“I’m storing it up for tomorrow,” I sass him. “Watch out for that hike, Mister Tough Guy.”
“Yeah? Think you’ll take me?” He sounds amused as he opens my door.
“I might surprise you.” I’m lying to no one. The only thing I’ll take right now is the first pillow in sight and a blacked out room.
“I’d like to see that.” The humor dissipates from Drake’s voice as he leads me into my room by my hand and turns my covers back. “You pack pajamas, princess?”
I snort. “I didn’t get a choice on what went in my suitcase, and unless you consider latex or leather pants sleepwear, then the answer is no.”
His lips twitch. “Maybe another time, then,” he says softly. “Hop in.”
“I’m filthy.” The innuendo in my words hits me way too late.
Drake ignores the option to snark at me for one. “Probably, princess. But this bed has seen far worse. Crawl in. I’ll fix your sheets tomorrow.”
“Story?”Kiss?I want to batt my eyelashes, but my body refuses to work the way I want it to behave. I crawl in as Drake suggests, and he tucks me in.
The light flicks off, and he leans over me. “I thought you wanted something else.”
He doesn’t pose it as a question, so I don’t answer it.
“Tell me what you did in the military.”
Drake’s hands still on the blanket over my shoulders. “I was a medic.”
I focus on his silhouette, unable to see his face. “Were you good?”
“Always.”
