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“C’mere,” I whispered as I pulled him forward against my chest. “It wasn’t your fault,” I murmured against his head as he clung to me. He didn’t respond, and I knew why.
He’d blame himself no matter what. And even though I knew it wasn’t his fault, he’d told me enough that I knew the perpetrators had been after Vincent, and Pierce had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time.
“He never blamed me,” Vincent said softly. “Everett.”
“Because he knew it wasn’t your fault. And because he knew your brother would have done anything to keep you safe.”
Vincent nodded and pulled back. He wiped at his eyes and then searched out his beer and took a long draw on it, presumably so he could pull himself together.
“So you became best friends with the President,” I mused, hoping to interject some lightness into our conversation.
Vincent smiled. “You’d think it would come with all kinds of benefits, but I usually end up feeding his cheap ass and watching whatever reality show he’s obsessed with.”
I chuckled and reached up to cup his cheek. “I’m glad you have each other.”
“Me too,” he murmured.
He leaned back against the lounger and just stared at me, and I found myself doing the same. I was at a loss as to what to do next. I was in completely new territory. Sure, I’d been in relationships before, but I wasn’t sure that was even what Vincent and I had. He hadn’t brought up the issue again of me leaving, but it felt like it was right there on the tip of his tongue. If I said or did even a single thing wrong, this could all be over.
And I didn’t know why that mattered so much.
It wasn’t like we had anything we could build a future on. I still knew next to nothing about the man, but what I did know was that he hated politics and pretty much everything I stood for. Our chemistry was off the charts, but I knew that wouldn’t be enough to sustain this thing between us.
But that was just it.
There was something more between us than just sex.
Wasn’t there?
I certainly hadn’t been scared shitless this morning when I’d discovered he’d left to go after my assailant on his own because I would have missed the sex if something had happened to him. And I couldn’t fathom that he’d let me stay just so he could keep fucking me.
Fuck, why was this shit so complicated? With Virginia, I’d never had to wonder about this kind of stuff. Of course, with Virginia, all I’d felt was trapped.
“What’s going on in that head of yours?” Vincent asked as he took another sip of his beer.
“Nothing,” I said with a shake of my head. “Just tired.”
He eyed me for a long time, but didn’t say anything.
“What happens now?” I asked. “With finding the guy,” I clarified, since I sure as shit wasn’t ready to hear Vincent tell me this thing between us needed to come to an end.
“My plan this morning was to draw him out, but someone blew that out of the water with his little stunt.”
I was surprised to see a small smile grace Vincent’s hard mouth, proof that he was no longer pissed at me for what I’d done this morning to get him back here.
“We can still do that,” I said. “Draw him out.”
Vincent opened his mouth to say something, so I quickly continued before he could protest. “I’m scheduled to speak at a rally on Saturday. Maybe if this guy sees that I’m getting back to my normal routine, he’ll come after me again.”
“No, it’s too dangerous,” Vincent said before the last syllable had even left my mouth.
“There will be security there. And you can blend in with the crowd. I can tell the security team that you’re my bodyguard…it’s not unheard of for political candidates to have them.”
The fact that he didn’t cut me off again was a good sign. “You said we could make it look like I was staying in a hotel in Charleston…”
He took another long draw of his beer. The fact that he hadn’t shot me down was proof that whatever he’d been doing on his own hadn’t been working.
“Vincent, he needs to see me…he needs to see that he hasn’t stopped me.” I was about to continue my argument when Vincent suddenly stood. His jaw was hard as he studied the backyard for a moment and then, without a word, he turned and strode into the house. I grabbed my own beer and followed, waiting long enough for Mickey and Minnie to follow me into the house before shutting the patio door.
I found him in the kitchen pouring himself a drink. There was a glass for me, but he didn’t fill it up. He merely slid the bottle and glass towards me and then snatched his glass off the island and went to stand by the kitchen table so he could stare out the window. I poured a small amount of the whiskey into the glass and downed it in one swallow, then capped the bottle. As much as I would have liked another drink, I needed to keep my wits about me for whatever was to come.
