Page 27 of Full Mountie

I hadn’t meant that as a test, but if I had, she’d have passed it with flying colours. She doesn’t even blink. “Into what?”

Into what, indeed. That was the million dollar question. “Honestly? I don’t know. But I have some ideas…”

11

Lachlan

Ican’t pretendI wasn’t worried about how work would go after the weekend of Hugh and Beth and me and holy shit, but as Monday unfolds, those fears prove to be unfounded.

If anything, Hugh is more professional today than he has been in the last two months. No dirty looks, no mostly-innocent slips of the tongue that I know are anything but.

Mid-morning, he checks in with me as I hand off the PM to his team for a trip across the road to Langevin Block, where the bulk of the PMO staff work, and his expression is cool and all business.

Maybe I should have blown him sooner.

Beth doesn’t wear a mask quite as well as Hugh does, but she’s completely professional, too, even if her smiles are warmer and her eyes follow me more than usual.

I like that. A lot.

At noon I have another wedding conference call, and when I get off that, Gavin’s back and his itinerary for the week has changed. Now we need to send an advance team to Winnipeg as well as Regina for the cross-country trip he’s taking next week. It takes most of the afternoon to confirm the details from the travel office. Flights for my officers not traveling on the PM’s plane, extra hotel rooms, and a local RCMP liaison officer to get the ball rolling before they arrive.

Once all of that is done, Beth likes to be copied on the confirmation. It ticks a box on a master list she keeps. I could email her, but…

I take the stairs two at a time.

She’s doing her end-of-the-day routine when I arrive. Clearing everything off her desk, one project at a time. Carefully locking away anything sensitive, and slotting papers that staffers might need overnight if something comes up—like Gavin’s daily schedule printout, a call sheet of critical phone numbers, letterhead and envelopes—into the designated spaces. The red folder for the chief of staff’s team, blue for communications, green for special projects. She re-arranges the pens that, over the course of the day, have gotten stuck in the wrong cups, then grabs a cloth and gives her computer a quick wipe down.

Watching her do something so ordinary shouldn’t affect me, but I love the care she takes to make things right.

She finally finishes what she’s doing, and without looking over at me, says, “Are you just going to lurk there?”

“No.”

She gives me a sideways glance. “Good.” Then she smiles, and that’s everything.

My chest swells. “Everything is organized for the advanced party to go to Winnipeg on Thursday.”

She nods. “Good.”

“I could have told you that in an email.”

Another smile. “I’m glad you didn’t.”

“Do you have dinner plans?”

Her eyes flare in surprise. “No.”

“Was that too forward?” I move closer, suddenly feeling too big and oversized for the refined space. For her.

A slow, gentle shake of her head. “Not at all. Feel free to be as forward as you want with me.”

“I want to take you out for dinner.” Hugh got to do that. It’s only fair. But I keep that to myself.

“I want to go home and change first.”

“I could pick you up at seven?” I think of where I want to take her. “And dress casually. Jeans would be fine.”

For the last year, I’ve spent more hours on duty than most supervisors do. I’ve taken my role as Gavin’s chief of security seriously—and when he started seeing Ellie, that effort doubled because she didn’t ask for any of the extra exposure dating him brought down upon her.

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