Page 70 of The Bodyguard

Thirteen

WHEN I CAUGHTup, he stopped walking, but he didn’t turn. “Don’t follow me.”

“I have to follow you.”

“I’m taking a walk.”

“I can tell.”

“I need a moment. To myself.”

“That’s not really relevant.”

“Do you really think you’re my girlfriend or something? Don’t follow me.”

“Do you really think I’m your girlfriend? I’m not following you because I want to. You are my job.”

At that, Jack started down the gravel road again—heading very purposely toward nowhere, as far as I could tell.

I let him get about a hundred feet ahead, and then I took a deep breath and followed.

When Jack said he was taking a walk, he wasn’t kidding. We followed the tire ruts in the road through a cow pasture, over a cattle guard, past a rusty metal barn, and down a long, slow hill into a wooded lowland overgrown with vines.

Was I dressed for an excursion like that—in my embroidered sundress with bare ankles?

I was not.

Every hundred feet or so, I had to shake the rocks out of my sandals.

Really wishing I’d changed into those boots now.

Did Jack know I was following him?

He did.

Whenever we came to a gate, he’d unlatch the chain and wait for me. Then, wordlessly, once I was through, he’d relatch it, and take off walking, and I’d wait politely until he’d reestablished our distance.

I even walked in the opposite rut from the one he was using, out of courtesy.

The road descended deeper into the woods, and the grass got taller, and the path got more overgrown, and just as I was trying to remember what poison ivy looked like, we came to a tumbledown, rusty, barbed-wire gate.

Past it, the forest opened up clear to a wide, blue sky, and I realized we’d made it to the riverbank.

As I got closer, Jack was looking me up and down. “Are you kidding me with that outfit?”

I looked down at my bare legs. “I have boots back at the house.”

“You should be wearing them.”

“Noted.”

Jack shook his head. “Never come down to the river with naked ankles.”

“To be fair,” I said, “I didn’t know that rule. I also didn’t know we were coming to the river.”

Jack turned and looked at the distance ahead. The road stopped at the gate. From here to the riverbank was just tall grass—and weeds and brambles and thistle bushes. And let’s not forget poison ivy.

Jack squatted down and turned his back toward me. “Climb on. I’ll give you a ride.”

---