Page 18 of Don’t Fall For A Bodyguard

“I’ll bet,” Bella snickered.

“—And we’d like to have a bite and get settled in, so, if you don’t mind?”

“Of course.” My mom stood up. “Why don’t you let us help? You bring Payton’s stuff upstairs and we’ll serve dinner.”

“Upstairs?” I croaked.

“Dinner?” Payton squeaked.

“Yes. I brought two trays of lasagna. And we have wine?—”

“Ma, that’s not necessary. And I’d like to be alone with my husband.”

“Lennie,” Mom snapped, and my dad stood up and put his hands on her shoulders. “First, you deprive me of a wedding and now, you turn down my food! Why don’t you take a fork and stick it in my heart already?”

Oh God, the drama. My dad didn’t utter a word, smart man that he was, and my sister sat there watching us like we were characters on TV.

I glanced at Payton, hoping my panicked expression would encourage him to rescue me.

“Since you did go to all that trouble of cooking, the least we can do is sit down together for a nice family meal,” Payton replied. “Right, darling?”

“See. Payton understands,” Mom replied. “Learn from your husband.”

I bit the inside of my cheek. I could do this. What’s another hour or two?

“Fine,” I sighed and held out my hand to him. “Come on, Angel, let’s get freshened up.”

“You call him angel?” Bella gushed. “That’s so sweet.”

“He is for sure.” Payton smiled, and took my hand.

His touch had my pulse taking off. I didn’t know whether to pull him closer or push him away for good.

“We’ll be down in fifteen.”

I hustled Payton out of the living room and up the stairs to my bedroom. I’d come back for our luggage later.

“I like your family. They’re so down to earth,” he stated as we reached the landing. “And that went better than I thought.”

“Better? Better?” I whisper-shouted. “They think we’re actually married! And now that they’re here, they won’t leave for hours. This is a disaster! I should’ve just told them.”

“Your mom is already worked up. I couldn’t tell her the truth. A shock like that might be a lot for her to take,” Payton insisted.

He had a point. I kept walking, directing him down the hallway and into my bedroom. Jesus, Payton was in my bedroom.

“Lennie!” he exclaimed. “You’ve got a four-poster bed and a fireplace? You’re a secret romantic.”

“Will you be serious for a moment and focus?” I hissed. “Given how long my family dinners are, it’s likely they won’t leave until late. Which means?—”

“Relax. I’ll stay over so they won’t suspect. I can crash on your couch.”

“I’ve got a guest room.”

“Even better. See, there’s no problem. Tomorrow, we meet up with Elias about the divorce, and I’ll head home. Then, in a few days, when everything calms, you can tell your family the truth.”

“Okay, all right. That works,” I replied.

“You need to relax,” Payton urged and placed his hands on my shoulders, massaging the tense muscles. “It’ll all work out. It was a mistake, but we’ll fix it.”

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