Page 34 of The Bodyguard Affair
“Thanks, by the way,” I say, mindlessly spinning the bear shakers, my cheeks growing hotter by the second.
“For what?”
“For being so nice. Not taking advantage of me. I was not in the best state of mind.” That’s putting it mildly.
He levels me with a look, only partially distracted by the arrival of our drinks and food. “Please don’t thank me for not taking advantage of you,” he says once Ralph walks out of earshot.
I pull my bowl of pasta and my emotional support side of fries closer. “Okay, fair. But I will thank you for putting my desk together. I wrote a lot of words at that desk.” It makes me smile, thinking about how much of a role he played in my writing without even knowing it. Not only did he encourage me to do it, but he literally set up my physical space to do so.
His lips curve in the tiniest grin before he unrolls his cutlery. “It wasn’t any trouble. Took me like five minutes on my way out.”
“God, the whole night is so embarrassing to even think about,” I say, plucking a piping hot fry out of the basket. It burns my mouth, but I deal with it, because I refuse to spit it out in front of him.
“I don’t think it was embarrassing. I had a lot of fun, actually. Honestly, I felt—I feel supercomfortable with you, just talking. Hanging out. I got some nice hugs from your dog, too,” he adds with a wry grin, taking a bite of his food.
“Ted’s dog,” I correct.
“How is Lars? And Ted?”
“They’re both great. Ted got a job and has his own place now.” While I let my pasta cool down, I dig my phone from my bag pocket and pull up a photo of Lars curled up in his bed with his favorite stuffed hamburger chew toy.
Nolan’s face lights up. “Aw. You must miss him.”
“I do. I never thought I’d miss his hundred-pound self sitting on my lap, or taking over my chair by the window. But I know how happy he is with Ted. The day they moved into their place,Lars got so excited, he ran around the living room fifty times, peed himself, and then lay belly up under the ceiling fan panting.”
He snickers, piercing a roast potato with his fork with startling accuracy. “I can picture that. Does he still like cheese?”
“Apparently. But he’s developed a taste for Gouda. The expensive stuff. I drop a wheel off at Ted’s place every so often.”
A smile plays across his lips, and I can’t help but think about how they felt against mine. How his beard scratched against my skin. The pressure of his teeth against my neck. His eyes drop to my lips, too, and an electric charge passes between us.
“Well, we should probably discuss the matter at hand,” I suggest, letting my traitorous gaze rest somewhere around the top of his head.
“You mean the fact that we’re canoodling in closets at work?” he says with a straight face.
I break a sweat at the mere thought. “Ha ha.”
“Can you just tell me…is this a PR distraction or something?” he asks through a bite of his ribs.
“Basically,” I say, grateful he put two and two together. “I mean, Gretchen legitimately thinks we’re a couple. But she’s using it to her advantage. She thinks if people know I’m dating you, they’ll be less likely to think something is going on with Eric.”
“Why does she care? Based on the anniversary dinner the other night, it seemed like she was done with Eric.”
I blow on my pasta to cool it down. “Maybe, but an affair would be humiliating, especially one that isn’t even true.”
“I guess that makes sense. Not that it should be anyone’s business.”
“It shouldn’t be, but you know how politics works,” I say, trying to figure out the most polite, delicate way to twirl the noodles onto my fork without looking like a total slob. One of the noodles flops in the opposite direction, flicking a glob of pesto dangerously close to his wrist on the opposite side of the table. He doesn’t notice. Or at least he doesn’t acknowledge it.
“So, what do you need from me?” he asks simply as I brave a bite.
“Well, first,” I start, swallowing hard, “I should reiterate that you don’t have to do anything you’re uncomfortable with. But if you did feel inclined to go along with this, it would be pretty chill. We’d live our normal lives, with the exception of select public appearances, like the football game, random all-staff events like the staff appreciation event at the River House. There’s also Gretchen’s breast cancer gala at the end of summer, if this is even still a thing by then. Basically, Gretchen wants everyone on the Hill to know we’re together.”
He dips his chin in a nod. “And we do this until the rumors blow over?”
I push my near-empty beer to the side, brushing a finger over the condensation on the outside of the glass. “I don’t expect it to last past a month, really.” When it’s said out loud, a month does seem like forever. I don’t know if it’s adequate time for everyone to forget about the whole scandal entirely, but I’m trying to be optimistic for Nolan’s sake. Surely something new will crop up by then. Or at least, all the election season headlines will ramp up, completely drowning out all of this nonsense.
“We’d pretend to break up after that?” he confirms.
