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He smiles but says nothing as he continues toward me. Correction: toward his boots. He has them on and tied before I’ve finished doing mine up. I notice him texting.
“Please, I’d like to walk alone,” I say, standing at the threshold.
“Unfortunately, I can’t let you do that.” He presses a hand on the door, opening it enough for him to get by me. Once outside, he holds his palm up in the stop position and looks from side to side, shining his phone’s flashlight into the dark.
Ignoring his silent command, I push past him. “Bears and cougars are all tucked in bed. I’ll be fine.” Even though I’m not a runner, I start to jog away.
“Ms. Beach,” he calls. In under ten steps, he’s a wall blocking my path.
“Seriously?” I stare at him. He doesn’t break eye contact. “Please get out of my way. Leave me alone.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Yeah, you can. I’ve been going out at night by myself for a long time. I’ll be fine. Go watch over the man who needs protection from life.”
I move left to get around him. He blocks me. I take two steps backward and then bolt to the right. He blocks me. I cross my arms in front of my chest and push directly into him. That works. He steps out of my path. Then back into it.
“Come on!” I snarl, wanting to yell, but not wanting to wake anyone up.
“Ms. Beach—”
“Virginia. My name is Virginia. I’m not Ms. Beach.”
“To me you are.”
“To you I should be nothing.” And just like that, Georgia’s voice is in my head again. My resolve to get away from this man evaporates and exhaustion takes over. Physical, mental, emotional. I’m wiped out. Brain drained. And worst, soul sad.
What starts as a sigh ends as a sob.
“I just need to go for a walk,” I whine. “Why won’t you let me go for a walk?”
“I’m not stopping you from walking. I just need to accompany you.”
“But I want to be alone.”
“I understand. And I am sorry to ruin that for you. This is for your safety.”
And then, in the dim light of a streetlamp, I read Bruce’s expression. The penny drops. Will’s reluctance to let me do anything on my own in the city, his irritated acceptance of this NHL-worthy lineup of body guards, and his edginess about being stopped in traffic on the highway in a place with no escape route all make sense.
“Has there been a threat against Will?”
He shakes his head. “I’m sorry. I’m not at liberty to talk about that.”
“You’re not at liberty to tell me why I have a six-foot-four, 250-pound walking wall of muscle shadowing me at one o’clock in the morning in the middle of nowhere?”
“Correct.”
“So, who is ‘at liberty,’” I ask with sarcasm, “to tell me?”
“Speak to Mr. Power.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, inhale, and hold my breath so I don’t scream.
I’m not ready to talk to Will. I need to think. But I can’t think with Bruce the Moose tracking my every step. It’s clear he’s not going to leave me alone.
“Fine. You win. Tell me—did you get your own room?”
He nods.
