Page 13 of Protecting the Nerd

He was right, but that wasn’t a reason not to do it. If we were in a contained environment I could control, I could do the job alone for a while. “Understood, but I can make it work in the meantime.”

York was pacing the length of the conference room, his steps measured and deliberate. I could almost see the internal war raging within him—the man of logic battling the man of emotion. “I hate the idea. I don’t want to hide away like some?—”

“Like someone who values their life?” Coulson’s tone was softer now, almost coaxing. “We’re not suggesting you hide, York. We’re proposing a strategic retreat. In Forestville, everyone knows each other. Anything—or anyone—out of place will stick out.”

“Anonymity is impossible there,” I said, hoping to tip the scales. “It’s a double-edged sword, but right now, we need that edge.”

Emotions played over York’s face. Something else was at work, something more than not wanting to disturb his routine or hating the idea of hiding. He didn’t want to go back to his hometown. Why? Did he have bad memories there? “Your parents still live there, right?” I asked.

His face grew tighter. Bingo. “Yeah. But we’re not close,” he said. “They won’t be much help.”

“No, but it’ll give credence to the reason for moving back,” Coulson said.

Watching York’s face was like watching the gears turn in his head, each calculated thought casting shadows across his features. Coulson had made his pitch. Now, it was a waiting game.

“Fine,” York conceded after a long pause, his voice heavy with the weight of a decision he didn’t want to make. He looked like a man stepping out into a storm without an umbrella, knowing he had no choice but to get drenched. “I’ll do it. I’ll move back to Forestville temporarily.”

A collective exhale eased the tension. Coulson nodded, his expression sober as if understanding the gravity of what we were asking of York. “Thank you. Now, we need to establish a plausible role for Quillon. The less attention we draw, the better.”

York sighed. “He can pose as my boyfriend.”

“What?” My heart skipped a beat, not expecting the request—or was it that York was looking straight at me when he said it? A fake relationship with York. A mix of adrenaline and something far more dangerous coursed through my veins. He must’ve picked up on me being gay, which was a bit surprising. I usually flew under people’s gaydar, but then again, this was York. Not exactly an average guy.

“It would explain why a stranger is staying with me for an extended period without raising suspicion,” York said.

“Pardon me for the inappropriate question, but aren’t you straight?”

He shrugged. “As far as everyone knows, yes, but I have a group of queer friends and acquaintances in Forestville, including Fir, my best friend. No one will be shocked if I show up with a guy.”

“Okay,” I agreed, perhaps a bit too quickly. The idea sparked something within me, curiosity or maybe excitement. “I can do that. We can do that.”

“If Coulson agrees,” York said with a bit of bite.

“Sounds like the perfect cover to me,” Coulson said.

“You don’t have an issue with it?” York asked. “‘Cause federal agencies aren’t known for being gay-friendly.”

He was sharp, and I loved him for it.

Smiling, Coulson retrieved his wallet, pulled out a picture, and put it on the table. The photo showed a good-looking man with bright blue eyes and a sexy smile. “That’s my husband, Seth.” He set another picture beside it of the cutest little girl with the same bright blue eyes and blond hair. “And that’s our daughter, Tory. She’s almost two.”

Coulson’s whole face had lit up with his love for them.

York picked up the picture of the little girl. “She looks very smart.”

I repressed a smile. What a typical York thing to say.

“She is. She’s the joy of our life. Anyway, I take it that covers your question?”

York nodded. “More than. Thank you.”

“I suggest you start working on your backstory.” Coulson put the pictures away.

“Agreed. We need to get our facts straight, like how we met.” I was already preparing for the role I’d need to play. Protecting York was my job, but pretending to be his boyfriend? That was uncharted territory.

“What do you suggest?” York asked, a glimmer of vulnerability in his eyes. Fear. He was scared, and I couldn’t blame him. I was scared for him. The idea of using York as a lure for terrorists clawed at my insides, igniting a protective fury. I would do whatever was necessary to keep him safe.

“Star Wars convention.” I followed a hunch, playing to his geeky side and the soft blanket I’d found in his bedroom. From his surprised chuckle, I’d hit the jackpot.

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