Page 9 of Last Minute

It’s attractive when a woman knows what she wants. I’ve had too many girlfriends act wishy washy, only to be upset when I’ve had to make the decision in the end.

I shove that thought far, far away as I scan the horizon for a telltale golden arches sign. Ellie is a princess. And a client, to boot. Any thoughts of that nature need to be kicked to the curb and then run over for good measure. No amount of good will come from crossing those lines.

CHAPTER 8

Erik

Ellie buys me lunch.

For the record, I tried to pay for my own food, but she smacked my hand out of the way when I pulled out my wallet. She instantly blushed afterward, like she did in the car after she smacked my knee, but then she apologized and insisted she pay.

The open wonder on her face as she takes in the noise of the play place and the slightly greasy smell of the restaurant is cute. She’s cute as she eats her mediocre burger and too-salty fries.

I fight myself over calling her cute—it’s too close to the beautiful I was throwing around earlier, before I knew she was my client and a princess—but the childlike awe on her face and balled-up energy in her body can’t be described as anything but…cute.

When we arrive at the hotel, Ellie rolls her purple suitcase up to the front desk, while I stand back with my small duffle bag in hand and keep an eye on the lobby. Once I get her set up in her room, I’ll do a full sweep of the building’s common spaces and make a security plan for the duration of her stay. Even with my mind on the safety of the lobby, I’m aware of her every movement—her smile and laughter—as she jokes with the clerk at the desk.

Giving the desk clerk one last smile, she steps over to where I’m waiting and holds up her room key. I follow her to the elevator and up to the room.

It’s a modestly-sized hotel room with two queen beds. A far cry from the kind of room a princess would have booked for herself.

“Are you alright sharing a room?” Ellie asks as she steps into the room. “I can go talk to the clerk and get a second room if you’re uncomfortable.”

“One room is fine.” Knowing the area, getting a last minute room doesn’t guarantee that it will be next door to this one. And to do my job properly, I need to be nearby. She sets the room keys on the dresser, lifts her suitcase onto one bed, and gestures for me to take the other. I step close and lift her suitcase, moving it six feet to the right and onto the second bed. I place my jump bag on the bed closest to the door.

“You know,” Ellie says observing me from her side of the room, “you could be a little less serious about everything.”

“Being serious about your safety is my job, Ellie.”

She shakes her head at my perceived ridiculousness. She toes off her white tennis shoes before climbing onto her bed and sitting cross-legged in the middle.

“And I appreciate that. But you’re a little…obvious.”

“Obvious?”

Ellie waves her hand at me. “Look at you. You’re all suited up and following me.” She gestures to herself and her much more casual clothing choices. “It’s obvious that one of us is out of place, which makes it look like both of us are out of place. I’m supposed to be incognito. Nobody knows I’m here or who I am, and I want to keep it that way.”

She pins me with a look that I don’t know what to do with. “So you need to make all this,” she gestures to me from my head to my shoes, “look less like an EPA and more like a regular dude. Because I’m regular chick Ellie.”

That phrase—regular chick Ellie—makes the corner of my mouth lift in the tiniest smile known to mankind. I’m not here to laugh and have fun and play games, but Ellie seems determined to wring a smile or two out of me, saying things like that.

“Are you smiling, Erik?” she asks, the antithesis to my micro smile beaming on her face.

“No,” I answer shortly, putting that corner of my mouth back where it belongs.

“Well, whatever it was, feel free to do it again. In the meantime,” she twirls her finger in front of me, like she’s wanting me to do a pirouette. “Let’s make you more casual.”

I cross my arms. “What gives you the right to change my appearance?”

Ellie’s happy smile melts into one that’s positively foxlike. “Boss,” she says, pointing to herself. “Employee.” She points to me. I open my mouth to retort, but she continues, her finger moving back to herself. “Princess.” Her finger swivels to me. “Civilian.”

I shut my mouth and narrow my eyes at her. Ellie only smiles wider. I don’t know how it hasn’t permanently frozen to her face with how long it’s been there.

“Start by taking off the suit. Much too stuffy.” Ellie leans back on her hands and watches as I shrug off my suit jacket and drape it over the end of my bed.

“Better,” she says, “but we’re nowhere near close to done. Lose the tie.”

“I feel like you’re getting too much enjoyment out of undressing me,” I shoot back as I loosen the knot at my throat and remove my nondescript, black tie.

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