Page 46 of Protecting Mr. Fine

—Bear Facts for Insomniacs, Episode 20

I stared at him with my hand poised over the bowl of mango almond dip.

“Jesus fuck, what kind of question is that? How the hell should I know?” I sputtered. “And that doesn’t count as a deflection. I literally don’t know the answer.”

I expected to see Zane’s eyes bright with teasing, but instead, I saw a strange kind of vulnerability in them.

“I want to know,” he said. “Think about it for a minute. On the one hand, yay! You can splurge and buy half the town. Onthe other…”

“On the other, everybody you knew would want a piece of it,” I finished.

He nodded.

Everyone knew Zane was richer than any god. Hell, he was most likely wealthier than the royal family of Ventdestine. But because his money came from massive global fame, there would have been no way of keeping his wealth a secret. So why was he acting like it would have been a choice?

Zane looked so earnest, like he really wanted to hear my opinion on this topic, that I couldn’t help but give it serious consideration. I took a sip of beer while I thought about it.

“I don’t trust people by default,” I said carefully. “I’ve seen too much in my job, too many people trying to use others for wealth and status. So I think… if I had the choice, I’d probably try to keep it under wraps. I might do what you do and try to help people instead.”

He nodded, as if something I’d said had validated his own feelings.

“Except there’d be signs,” I added with a wink. “I wouldn’t be able to hide my Madshus Redline skis and my sudden retirement so I could enjoy them.”

The teasing returned to his eyes. “At your winter sports camp?”

“Eventually,” I agreed.

“You’d leave me just like that, Bear? All it would take is a cool bil?”

My grin dropped. I wanted to bark out a laugh at just how ridiculous that was. I would leave Zane Hendley when the last breath whistled out of my carcass and not a minute sooner. But then I realized I couldn’t even joke about the topic without wanting to hit something or being tempted to blurt out all the things I was trying to hold back.

I shoved the mango almond dip in my mouth… which was a little kicky but surprisingly tasty.

“On the same topic,” I said when it was Zane’s turn to answer again. “What would be the hardest luxury to give up if you lost it all?”

Zane didn’t hesitate. “I should say the ability to help others, but I’m too selfish. It would be my couture clothing.”

He said it with such a straight face, smoothing a hand down his front, it took me a minute to notice what he was wearing.

His unicorn fleece onesie.

The most god-awful monstrosity of a pajama concept ever created. It had started out as a gag gift from Landry but had quickly become the only way Zane could stay warm last winter when we toured through Minnesota and Wisconsin. The poor guy had been sick in addition to being saddled with having to visit the frozen Midwest during January and February, and Landry’s gift had been just the thing.

Now, it was definitely not the thing. The man was sweating from the horseradish like I was, and the unicorn onesie wasn’t doing him any favors.

I imagined peeling it off him for a split second before I shook my head.

I needed to stop this fantasy. Whose turn was it? Shouldn’t somebody be asking a question? I needed to say something, anything, to snap myself out of it.

“Why the fuck have you never had sex before?” I blurted.

My words slipped out like the notes of a song played off-key, each discordant syllable tumbling over the last as we listened in horror.

Zane’s eyes flashed to me and widened in surprise. My own words replayed in my mind as I realized the depth of my mistake.

Mycareer-ruiningmistake.

“Oh fuck. I’m sorry, Zane. Please.” My face was on fire and not from the kick of the horseradish. Panic rushed through my veins.

---