Page 17 of Shield and Savior
No red flags, just self-inflicted stop signs.
“Do you have a folding chair?”
“No, I’m going to stand.”
“Now that seems like a human rights violation.”
“Most of my job is boring and standing. I’m kinda used to it. A bad day is an exciting one.”
I guess this is protocol. I didn’t have protection back when I was a kid. Seems like everyone is on high alert now.
I stand in the doorway as he silently sweeps Drew’s room. He does a lap, checking the windows and closets. I don’t know why he does this. It seems like a stupid waste. I mean, if an assassin showed up in the fifteen minutes since his last sweep, we all deserve to die, and the assassin should get a raise.
I yawn, my feet feel like blocks of concrete, and my shoulders are killing me. I look longingly at my bed as Lance stands next to it. It’s so inviting. Hmm, maybe it’s more inviting because he’s there. STOP IT.
“Good night, I’ll see you in the morning.” His eyes burn into mine.
“Um, night.” I stand in my assassin-free empty room until I hear the front door close and lock. Then I take an outrageously hot shower, change into fuzzy pants, and crawl into bed. The pillow is cold, and the blanket hugs me. I’ve never felt more comfortable. And Lance is standing outside my apartment door.
My ceiling has five water stains that sort of look like an armadillo and a mermaid. Well, not like one armadillo-mermaid mash-up creature of nightmares, but if you squint, three of the stains kinda look like a mermaid, and the other two are an armadillo. Damn, how many times did I say the word armadillo? And why do I always picture it with a bandana and a cowboy hat?
What the hell is wrong with me?
Yep, I am comfortable.
So warm and snuggly.
Thinking about cowboy armadillos and mermaids and not about Lance standing in the hallway. Yep. I’m not worried about what the neighbors will think, or if his legs are going to hurt, or how he’s going to spend the next…how many hours? Eight. Jesus Christ.
No, not thinking about that at all.
Just an armadillo-mermaid mash-up.
Now the mermaid has a shell bra, a cowboy hat, and a bandana around her neck. And a weird armadillo tail.
Yep. That’s in my head now.
FUCK!
The blankets fall to the floor, and next thing I know I’m trudging through my minefield living room and flinging open the door. Well, that’s not accurate either. I spent a few seconds fighting with the stupid lock.
Lance’s big stupidly beautiful eyes travel across my body. “Are you okay? Did something happen?”
I grab his arm and yank him inside. “No, I have a mermadillo stuck in my head, and you’re standing in the hallway like a weirdo.”
He drags his hand across his face and sighs. “I’m the weirdo? Doing the job your family is paying me to do? I don’t even know what the hell a mermadillo is.”
I start to explain my brain and stop. He’s stuck with me for a while. “Look, can you do the same job sitting on my couch?”
“Not nearly as effectively. “
“But if you’re in here, I’m safer than if you’re not. Right? Because right now, I’m freaking out that you’re standing out in the hallway, and my neighbors will definitely have opinions, and I haven’t even met them yet.”
“Do you want their background checks?”
“No! Come inside, sit on my couch, and make sure my son and I aren’t murdered in the middle of the night. Okay? I don’t even care if you read a book or something. Just be here,” I point to the floor, “and not out there.” I gesture wildly in the direction of the door, like that will make my point.
His face squinches up, and he rubs the collar of his stupid polo shirt he wore because I asked him to, and he fucking listened, unlike every other man in my life.