Page 74 of The Bodyguard

I paced the beach, retracing all my steps. I’d been warm on the walk down, but now, after the shock of the river, I felt the opposite. I was drenched, and cold, and I couldn’t stop shivering. But I didn’t care.

As we looked, Jack’s entire demeanor softened.

“We’ll find it,” he said. “Don’t worry.” Then he added, “I’m really good at finding things.”

I looked up, and when I did, I realized just how vast that beach was—compared to a safety pin. This beach was like infinity. We were never going to find it.

And then I did what anybody might do, I guess, in that situation.

I started to cry.

Jack didn’t even hesitate. He closed the distance between us and wrapped his arms around damp, trembling, uncharacteristically shaky me and kept them there a minute. Then he stepped back and took off his flannel overshirt, put it on me and buttoned the buttons, and then pulled me back into his arms.

“I’m sorry,” he said, and now I was hearing his voice muffled through his chest. “I’m sorry you lost your safety pin, and I’m sorry you almost drowned, and I’m sorry I yelled at you. I should have warned you. It’s completely my fault. You just scared me, is all.”

Was he stroking my hair? Was Jack Stapleton stroking my hair?

Or was it just the wind?

He held me for a long time like that, there on that beach. He held me until my tears had dried up and I’d stopped shaking. Another first: The first time a client had ever hugged me—and the first time I’d ever allowed it.

And as mad at him as I still was, I also really didn’t mind.

He seemed to have a knack for it.

JACK WOUND UPcarrying me piggyback all the way to the house.

At first, he was just going to take me up the riverbank and through the overgrown grass—just back to the gravel road.

But once we got there, he just kept on walking.

“I’m good now,” I said, my legs dangling. “You can let me down.”

“This is my workout for the day.”

“I can walk. I’m fine.”

“I like carrying you. I might start doing it all the time.”

“I know how to walk.”

“I’m sure you do.”

“So put me down.”

“Don’t think so.”

“Why not?”

“Mostly ’cause it’s getting dark, and lots of things that bite come out at dusk. You won’t be able to see where you’re stepping. And you’re barelegged, like an amateur.”

“We’ve already established that’s not my fault.”

“So what I’m doing right now is chivalrously protecting you from danger.”

“Ah.”

“Also, I feel bad for making you cry.”