Page 42 of Protecting Mr. Fine

And then, after one of the Chicago shows, I’d finally succumbed to the full-blown version of whatever virus I’d been trying to fight off, and Bear had found me vomiting in the hotel bathroom at four in the morning. He’d rubbed my back and washed my face with a cold washcloth for two hours while I humiliated myself in front of him.

“Fine, huh? You still fine?” he’d teased.

“It’s not that bad,” I’d insisted weakly.

“No, ’course not. Being un-fine would be so off-brand for you.”

“You don’t have to stay. Maybe we can call someone like a visiting nurse or something. You don’t have to?—”

“Shut it, Zane,” he’d said firmly. “No one takes care of you but me.”

At the time, I’d known he was protecting me, looking out for my reputation and making sure no one else saw me in such a moment of vulnerability. Protecting my reputation was part of his job, after all. But after that, I’d had fantasies about him looking out for me because he wanted to.

Because he cared for me.

And I knew he did care… just not in the way I wanted him to. Not in the way I fantasized about.

“Zane?” he prompted now.

I blinked away my memories and tried to replay the last thing he’d asked me. “Uh… horseradish? Yeah. I like it fine. Every year on Rinny’s birthday, Gran would take us all out for shrimp cocktail at Ruby’s. I’d ask for extra horseradish to mix in my cocktail sauce and ate it till my nose ran.”

“Go get comfortable, then, and I’ll set everything out.”

I was already dressed fairly comfortably, but I was wearing jeans that would show if I got a Bear-boner… which was definitely going to happen since Lou didn’t seem to be joining us and since that kiss was still seared directly into my brain.

I detoured to my room and rifled through my clothes until I found the most shapeless full-coverage outfit I owned. The giant fleece onesie would not only be good for a cold autumn evening in Norway, but it would also cover up as much skin as humanly possible and hopefully keep Bear from discovering how often his inadvertent touches gave me goose bumps.

When I got to the dining table between the kitchen and gathering room, I noticed a platter in the center with several dishes of dips I didn’t recognize, surrounded by stacks of cut vegetables, meats, and breads.

“What is this?” I wondered.

Bear gestured for me to take a seat. “Did I ever tell you that horseradish is one of the primary condiments in Ventdestinian cuisine?”

I shook my head as I sat.

“Ventdestine is a hodgepodge country,” he explained. “Lots of French influence, a little German, and plenty of British—which makes sense, considering English is the most commonly spoken language there. But there’s also a huge Scandinavian influence, and horseradish is common there, just like it is here in Norway. I guess it grows well here.”

I took a cautious sniff in the direction of the platter. “Okay. So… we’re eating horseradish?”

“Yup. In Ventdestine, the royal family used to play a game called Hemmret Sovets… Secret Sauce, and I think it would be fun for us to play it, too… if you wanted?”

I could hear the words Bear wasn’t saying—that he was as desperate to get our relationship back to normal as I was—and that went a long way to dissolving my anger.

“Secret Sauce,” I repeated. It sounded sketchy but also intriguing. “Are you making this up?”

“Definitely not. The game started back when Asger’s father was king. A tabloid teased a story about a secret scandal involving an unnamed member of the royal family, which they’d reveal in the coming week’s issue. Asger’s father lost his royal mind. He called the whole family together—his own siblings, his wife, even little Asger himself, who was only eight at the time—and ranted at all of them, demanding to know what the scandal was so that the palace could get ahead of it.” Bear’s eyes twinkled. “Can you imagine what happened?”

I blinked, distracted by how gorgeous Bear was when he smiled. “Uh… no?”

“One of Asger’s sisters broke down and admitted she’d been engaged in a serious flirtation with a foreign prince who was already promised in marriage to someone else.”

“Oh. Wow. That’s kinda—” I began.

“And another of Asger’s siblings confessed that he’d fallen in love with a local schoolteacher—a commoner.”

“Wait, what?” I frowned. “There were two scandals?”

“Annnnd—” Bear grinned openly. “His other sister admitted she’d been writing some pretty well-received racy books under a pen name. And his cousin confessed that he’d been paying a kid to do his homework. And the queen admitted she was pregnant again?—”

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