Page 23 of Crossing the Line


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“Fuck,” I mutter to myself as I drop the towel. “Why couldn’t my close protection officer be overweight and bald?” I snatch up some underwear from my dresser drawer and slip them on. “Now I have to spend God knows how long sharing my apartment with someone who looks like he should be starring in a Hollywood movie instead of babysitting me.” Tugging on a pair of yoga pants, I hop around my bedroom as the material gets stuck on my still wet leg. Losing my balance, I fall onto my ass, groaning as I hit the floor.

“Everything okay in there?” Sawyer shouts through the door seconds later.

“Yes! Fine,” I cry, scrambling to stand up. “I’ll just be a minute.”

“Okay.” I stare at the door as I hear him return to the kitchen. Dropping my head into my hands, I groan.

“Way to go, Hallie,” I mumble as I finally get my yoga pants on. After I finish getting dressed, I brush my wet hair, braiding it in a plait down my back. Taking a deep breath, I make my way toward the kitchen. Sawyer is sitting at the small breakfast bar with a plate of scrambled eggs and bacon in front of him. Still shirtless. I try not to stare as I get nearer.

“Hey, Hallie,” he says as he looks up, his eyes tracking the length of my body. I clear my throat, and he drops his eyes and gestures to the stove. “I kept some eggs and bacon warm for you.”

I look over at the stove in surprise. “Thanks. You didn’t have to do that.” He shrugs.

“I like to cook. Plus, if I’m eating your food, I thought I’d better make you some too.” He looks at me sheepishly. “I hope it was okay to help myself.”

I laugh and reach for the plate he’s left on the side. “Anytime you want to cook, I’m good with that,” I assure him, filling my plate with eggs and bacon. “So, what now? What do we do all day?” I ask as I stand in the kitchen and eat.

“I need to check the building. The security in the lobby looks good. Does the building have a parking garage?”

I nod. “What are you looking for?”

“I need to know the layout of the building, that’s all.” In other words, he needs to know how to get me out if Matt discovers where I live and shows up at my apartment. At that thought, I swallow down the lump that formed in my throat and take a deep breath.

“I need to go to work. I’m going to take some time off, but I have to speak to my boss in person.”

“We can do that. What time do you want to leave?” I glance at the clock on the wall and see it’s seven-fifteen.

“About eight-thirty?”

“I’ll be ready.” I watch as he finishes his eggs and bacon. “You said you worked in a library?”

“Yeah. I work in the children’s section at Bull Street Library.”

“You enjoy it?”

“I love it. As you know, books are important to me, and watching the kids fall in love with reading is my favorite part of my job.”

“I take it your colleagues know what’s going on?”

“They saw the news like the rest of Savannah,” I say with a sigh. “There’s me and Dana in the children’s section. I hadn’t told her about my past, so it came as a surprise to her, but she’s been great. She hasn’t pushed me to talk to her, but I know she’s there if I need her. She’s a good friend.”

“She sounds it,” he says with a smile. “I’m looking forward to meeting her.”

“Would you mind if we told people you were a friend of my brother’s or something?” I bite my lip as he frowns at me. “I don’t want people knowing I need a close protection officer. I wish people didn’t know anything about my past. Now that it’s been splashed all overCNN, everyone knows. All I want is to be normal, you know?”

“We can tell people whatever you want, Hallie.”

“Thanks.”

“I know you live alone, but umm… any boyfriend going to be stopping by?” His eyes meet mine, and heat floods my face.

“No. No boyfriend.” He stands to bring his plate to the sink.

“I’ll clean up. You cooked,” I tell him, taking the plate from his hands and setting it down in the sink. Turning on the water, I wait for it to heat. When he sits back at the breakfast bar, I turn to face him. “So, how long have you been a close protection officer?” Turning back to the sink, I start washing up.

“About five years.”

“And you like it?”

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