Page 28 of Awestruck (Starstruck Love Stories #4)

Freya

If I thought it would be simply difficult to convince Elliot to loosen up, I severely underestimated his dedication to his job.

Or he is incapable of turning off his protective instincts, something I cannot fault him for.

But if he does not unclench his jaw soon, it is going to remain stuck shut.

He promised to let me spend the rest of the day how I choose, but the levels of stress he seems to be experiencing can in no way be good for him, so I am starting to think my request was a mistake.

I cannot fathom what he sees as a threat in this little town when everyone has been happy to enjoy our company, but Elliot seems certain something will go wrong if he lets his guard down and has a little fun.

As Grimstad —Markham—said, the people of Havenford have turned our visit into a celebration, bringing out instruments and setting up a miniature festival in the village square.

Markham is among them and has borrowed someone’s violin to join the other musicians.

Food, laughter, and drinks are plentiful, and the skies have cleared to bathe the streets in golden light as the afternoon makes way for evening.

And still Elliot looks like he will snap at anyone who gets too close to me, which is why I have slowly been moving farther away from him.

He has been so focused on the people around us that he has yet to realize I am nearly on the other side of the square now.

Some distance will be good for him, or at least that is what I tell myself.

It will prove that I am perfectly safe, and maybe that way he will let himself breathe.

“Hex.” I grab my brother as he passes by. I am pretty sure he was going to talk to one of the young women who have been eyeing him most of the afternoon, but they can wait. “How can we help him?”

Hex looks at Elliot and laughs. “He might be beyond help.”

“I don’t think he understands down time,” Sander adds, coming over to join us. “Can’t really blame him, with the life he’s lived.”

Elliot is only twenty-six. There is so much life still ahead of him, and if he cannot learn to relax, what will become of him? How will I be able to keep him in my employ when it only seems to cause him stress? He can keep me safe, but I cannot let him do it at the expense of his own life.

“Oh, this could be interesting,” Hex says as a woman who looks to be close to my age approaches Elliot with a bouquet of wildflowers and a broad, dare I say flirtatious smile.

Despite her beauty, Elliot hardly gives her a glance, not even when she tucks a spring of purple sea lavender into the pocket of his shirt. He remains rigid, his eyes on the crowd. Not even a beautiful woman can tempt him to let down his guard?

He seemed to relax for a moment in the conference room last night in Windgaard.

Somehow, I need to find a way to help him do so again.

I thought my brothers would be able to help him, but he is clearly beyond their influence at this point.

Or perhaps he was never susceptible in the first place.

Elliot does seem to stick to a plan once he has made it, and his single goal is to keep me safe. Nothing else seems to matter.

It never occurred to me until now how much I demand of a protection agent.

I have asked for his mind, his body, and his time, and his life is no longer his own.

Even if he did take an interest in someone, that interest could never turn into anything but a fleeting flirtation because he will be needed at my side.

Always. He will need to go wherever I go.

No wonder he carries so much stress.

“You know him better than I do,” I say to my brothers, frowning as a child approaches Elliot now with an offering of something in her hands. It looks like a pastry on a serviette. Elliot wrinkles his nose and shakes his head. “What does he do for fun?”

“Fun?” Hex snickers. “He spars.”

“Trains,” Sander adds.

“If he isn’t with the guards, he’s studying with Gregor.”

“The only time he ever sits still is when he’s asleep, and even then…”

The child comes over to our side of the square, her steps careful as she watches the pastry in her hands so it does not fall. Elliot follows her with his eyes, which widen when he sees how far I have gotten from him, and though he takes a step, he freezes when I shoot him a warning look.

Once I am certain he will remain where he is, I crouch to match the height of the girl and smile at her. “That looks delicious.”

“My mum made it,” she tells me with a worried expression on her face. I can barely hear her over the music. “For the big, scary man.”

I only just manage to hold back a laugh. “That’s very nice of your mum.”

“Do you want it, Princess? He told me no.”

Cupping my hands beneath hers, I smile wider and shake my head. “No, but I think we can get the big, scary man to change his mind. Should we try?”

She looks nervous, but she nods. “Okay.”

“What’s your name?”

“Elsa.”

“That is a lovely name. Come.” Putting my hand on the girl’s shoulder, I direct her back to where Elliot is standing.

He watches us warily, his eyes as much on Elsa as they are on me. Is he really so on edge that a tiny child frightens him?

“Elliot, this is Elsa. She says her mother made this pastry for you in particular.”

“I don’t want…” He stops when I glare at him, his jaw clenching tighter as if my censure caused him pain. Then he surprises me by sinking down to one knee and holding out his hand. “Thank you, Elsa.”

The little girl places the pastry on his large palm, her expression expectant.

Something shifts in the big, scary soldier when he looks down at the pastry, then back at Elsa.

Everything about him softens, and a smile breaks across his face as he leans an elbow on his knee.

“This looks really good,” he tells her, his voice impossibly gentle.

He takes the purple flower from his pocket and holds it out to her. “Is this a good trade?”

Elsa slowly nods as her fingers curl around the blossoms.

Grinning, Elliot looks back down at the pastry in his hand. “Did you help your mom make this?”

“I made the filling,” Elsa practically whispers.

“What did you put inside?”

“Gooseberries.”

His eyebrows rise high in exaggerated surprise. “I don’t think I’ve ever tried a gooseberry before.”

“They’re my second favorite,” Elsa replies with a little more confidence than before.

Elliot grins. “What’s your first favorite?”

“Blackberries, but we ate them already.”

“Well, it’s a good thing you did, because otherwise you would have made me a blackberry pastry, and I’ve already tried those.

” He takes a massive bite of the pastry, humming and expressing how good it is through his mouthful until Elsa starts giggling.

Then he shoves the rest of the pastry into his mouth, and the little girl practically squeals with laughter.

“I can get you another!” she says and darts off.

Rising, Elliot fights to chew his mouthful as I fight to keep from laughing. I could not have expected that interaction, and I have no idea how to react. Elliot, on the other hand, grimaces and licks cream from his lips while he searches the crowd for wherever Elsa went.

“You have a little…” I reach up, wiping a bit of cream from the corner of his mouth before my propriety can remind me that that is hardly a professional action to take. Horrified by my indecorum, I freeze with my hand hovering between us and embarrassment scorching my cheeks.

Whatever shifted in our relationship last night, it should not have given me permission to be so brazen.

Elliot’s eyes linger on the cream on my thumb for a long few seconds, then he holds the serviette toward me with a grunt. “Thanks.”

Vitte, I have made everything awkward. Taking the cloth, I search for a way to take his attention off me. “What in the world was that?”

His eyes dart to the serviette in my hand. “What was what?”

I would rather we did not discuss my informal contact just now, so I explain, “If I didn’t know better, I might have thought you were possessed by someone else a moment ago.”

Understanding dawns on him, and he looks over the crowd again, finding Elsa across the square with a woman who must be her mother.

Her mother smiles at us as she talks to Elsa.

“You don’t think I know how to act around kids?

” He either finds that amusing or insulting, and I do not know which. “Why, because I’m a big, scary man?”

I gasp. “You heard me?”

Chuckling, he tilts his head to one side. “Read your lips. I’m assuming she called me that first.”

“You were rather terrifying, I think.”

“I wasn’t trying to be.” He narrows his eyes. “But answer the question.”

Grinning, I shift so I am standing next to him and watching the crowd the same way he is.

He does have a decent vantage point here, with a good view of the musicians and the people gathered around tables and chairs as they talk and share their food.

“No, I did not think you knew how to act around kids. I thought you were in the Army for your entire adult life.”

“I was.”

I sense more to that answer, so I nudge his arm. “But?”

He sighs heavily. “But while I was a training officer on base, I lived with a buddy’s family.

He has two little girls.” As his gaze grows distant, he rolls his shoulder, the same one he massaged last night.

But whatever discomfort it might be giving him, it seems to disappear when Elsa returns with two more pastries.

His smile comes back in full force as he drops down to the girl’s level again.

“I brought you one too, Princess!” Elsa says with so much excitement that I laugh.