Page 81 of The Bodyguard Situation

Our food is delivered, and our table is full of different plates.

As we eat, I glance out the window and notice dark clouds rolling in, blotting out the sun as Harper finishes her coffee. She glances outside, her brow creasing slightly as a low rumble of thunder vibrates through the glass.

“Looks like the storm caught up to us,” she says. “It always does.”

Her words are more ominous than I’d like.

Harper grabs the syrup and covers her stack of pancakes with it. She cuts into them and takes a bite, and her eyes light up.

“How are they?” I ask.

She swallows down the bite. “Yours are better.”

Laughter escapes me. “Don’t flatter me.”

“Whatever, pancake king. It’s the truth.”

We eat until it’s hard to breathe, and as I hand our server my card, the rain begins to pour outside, coating the large windows in streaks of water.

We stand, and I grab her hand and lead her to the front. “Stay here. I’ll grab an umbrella.”

“Okay,” she tells me, eyes shining just for me.

Fuck, I want to kiss her again, but I hold off. I step outside.

The first drops of cool rain pound against me. It quickly turns to sheets, pouring relentlessly down. By the time I reach the Charger, my shirt is plastered against my chest, soaked through. Shaking the water from my face, I retrieve the umbrella tucked beneath the seat, pop it open, and hurry back toward the diner entrance.

Harper stands just inside the doorway, arms folded across her chest as she watches me approach, her lips curled into a gentle, amused smile. I hold the umbrella up as she steps out, carefully keeping it over her.

“You didn’t have to do that,” she says, laughter coloring her voice as she leans into my side.

“I don’t mind,” I answer, meeting her gaze, suddenly aware of how close we’re standing beneath the small canopy of the umbrella. “Besides, I couldn’t let you get wet.”

“I’ll keep my comments to myself,” she says, biting her lip as she turns to me.

She tilts her face upward, her eyes softening, searching mine as rain pounds steadily against the fabric overhead, creating a private cocoon that isolates us from the world. Her hand slips into mine, intertwining our fingers naturally, pulling me even closer, leaving me breathless.

Slowly, inevitably, the distance between us vanishes. My heartbeat quickens. With awareness building into something raw and undeniable, I lift my free hand to cup her cheek, my thumb brushing lightly across her rain-speckled skin. Her breath hitches at my touch, her lips parting in anticipation.

Without hesitation, our mouths finally meet—soft, warm, tentative at first. But as she melts into me, the kiss deepens naturally, her soft sigh drawing me further into her. Harper’s hand clutches my soaked shirt, pulling me closer, as if needing more—more of me, more of us, more of whatever this is we’ve found together in the storm.

The rain continues to pour, splashing onto the pavement around us, but beneath this small umbrella, all I feel is her warmth pressed firmly against me, her lips parting beneath mine, our bodies fitting perfectly together. Every wall I’ve built around myself crumbles under her kiss and the urgency in how she clings to me.

We finally pull back, foreheads resting together, our breaths mixing unevenly as I stroke her cheek with my thumb, eyes locked on hers.

“Brody,” she whispers, voice soft and awed, barely audible above the rain.

The world tilts on its axis.

“I’m falling for you,” she confesses as I brush a strand of hair from her face.

“I’m here to catch you,” I say with a smile.

For another lingering moment, we stand wrapped together beneath the steady downpour, unwilling to let go. Nothing else exists beyond the safety of the umbrella, beyond the woman pressed warmly against me.

Finally, taking her hand, I lead Harper toward the car, my heart beating heavily, fully aware there’s no turning back from this.

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