I bypass their exchange and continue, “You walk into placesbesideme?—”
“No,” Farrow rejects immediately. He runs two hands through his bleach-white hair, combing the strands completely out of his face. Sometimes he does this to give himself more time to answer. Other times, I think it’s a sign that he’s getting serious.
Akara rests his elbow on the counter. “Moffy, he has to assess the room before you enter. Just like Declan did.”
Declan isn’t Farrow. My old bodyguard preferred privacy with me, to the point where I can’t say I know very much about him personally. IknowFarrow in a way that I never knew Declan.
It instantaneously changes the bodyguard-client relationship that I’m used to.
“Then when we’re on the street,” I say to Farrow. “You walk beside me. You don’t needto walk in front of me every single time like you’re my labradoodle.”
“A labradoodle,” he repeats, his features balancing on the peak of an eye roll and a laugh. “You couldn’t have picked a more docile animal, could you?” Before I can respond, he adds, “I’ll consider that, but I can’t promise I’ll follow through ineverysituation.”
That seems fair.
I nod a couple times. “When did you find out about the new assignment?” He looks unaffected, but if he were a superhero in a battle zone, the comic book panel would show Farrow relaxed on a destroyed bench, using his powers to easily survive and make do.
In comparison, I externalize my readiness for shit storms: my back straight, shoulders stringent, and head hoisted.
“I was told last night,” he says.
I let this sink in. “So only eight hours more than me.”
“Twelve, technically.” His lips begin to lift like he beat me at something.
I holster my own smile. “Thank you for thattechnicaladjustment.”
“Anytime, wolf scout.” He eases forward and lowers his voice to the sexiest whisper, “It’s good to remember that I’m better than you at most everything.”
It takes a lot of effort not to stare at his mouth. “Sounds like an alternate universe.”
One corner of his lip quirks, and then he eases back.
Boom.
Our heads whip to the store windows. More people bang against the glass as they try to peer inside, others chatting loudly as they wait for Superheroes & Scones to officially open.
“We need to go,” I say the obvious.
It really dawns on me that thewein this scenario is me and Farrow. Not me and Akara. Not me and a guy I recently met.
It’s just me and him.
And notin a way I fantasized. Farrow is now obligated to protect me, maintain a professional relationship with me, and alwayskeep me safe.
Picturing a polar bear eating Fritos on the moon is easier than imagining Farrow as my bodyguard. I think it’s a sign.
That this is about to get fucking strange.
3
MAXIMOFF HALE
Leaving Superheroes& Scones in my red Audi, I merge onto the freeway. The air is noticeably strained between us since I gave him my eight-page list. While he silently reads in the passenger seat, I concentrate on the road and speed past paparazzi vehicles that attempt to hug me like we’re friends.
Farrow glances up and scrutinizes the various SUVs and sedans racing after us. “I really should be the one driving in this relationship.”
I stiffen at the wordrelationship.I mentally add inplatonic, but my sixteen-year-old self with his sophomoric crush would be hard as a rock right now.
