The thought of watching Kate stretching and bending in Spandex didn’t sound bad at all. “Sure,” he grinned. “Can we try that aerial yoga? With the swooshing around and the silk ropes and stuff?”
Kate imagined Chris’s muscular arms bulging as he hung suspended in mid-air by silk ropes. She gave an involuntary shiver and blushed. “How about we start with lunch? Something light, just in case we do decide to lose our minds and try out extreme yoga?”
“Good idea. Steak is light, right?”
***
Kate elected to take Chris to the same bistro she and Holly had met at for lunch, the one where Holly had accidentally assaulted the waiter. Chris had been resistant to sitting on the patio, but acquiesced when Kate agreed to sit in the far corner, in the shade and with her back to the wall.
“This is a cool little place,” Chris said once they had put in their drink orders.
“Yes, I like it,” Kate agreed. “It’s a little out of the way-”
“Which is a good thing, right now,” Chris interjected.
“I suppose it is. But either way, it’s a nice spot and the food is good. I think this neighborhood is really up and coming. Just a couple weeks ago it was so different.”
Chris stared at her. “You were just here recently? You didn’t tell me that.”
“Well, yes. I met with Holly, she picked it out. Why does that matter?”
Chris groaned. “Kate, really? We shouldn’t be here. Not somewhere you’ve been in the past month.”
“I don’t think it makes a difference. It was before-”
An explosive bang cracked through the air like a whip, cutting off Kate’s thought. She barely had time to register the sound before Chris had lunged across the table, knocking it aside and using his weight to force her to the ground.
Shocked and confused, Kate allowed herself to be thrown down and covered by Chris’s body, feeling the cold, rough cement pressing into her back under his firm bulk. She looked up at his face, almost expecting to see a smile, as if the whole thing were some joke she just didn’t get yet. But Chris’s eyes were wide, scanning the scene beyond the patio. His face was calm but his jaw was clenched, and he didn’t get respond when she whispered his name in fright.
“Get inside,” he said, eyes still fixed in front of him. “Go.” He helped her to her feet and hurried her inside, keeping his body close to hers. Kate was vaguely aware of the sound of screaming over the pounding in her ears. Suddenly, Kate realized what had happened.
“Chris, was that a gunshot?” she asked in alarm. “Chris? Chris!”
He didn’t answer her, continuing to rush her through the restaurant. He paused at the hostess stand. “Call the police,” he instructed. “There was an attempted carjacking outside. Shots fired. Just do it!” His tone left no room for argument, and the hostess nodded in stunned silence and picked up the phone, looking confused and scared. Kate wanted to reassure her, but Chris continued to hurry Kate to the back exit, feeling her shake under his touch.
Chris focused on remaining calm. It was a random carjacking; it had nothing to do with them. He knew this, but he couldn’t help the cold fear washing over his body, freezing his veins. His private security services were mostly procured by celebrities who thought too highly of themselves, and his duties rarely amounted to more than manhandling a few overeager paparazzi. This was the first time since his service in the Marines that he had heard gunfire so close. Well, that’s not true now, is it? He thought to himself. There was one more time after you got out that you heard it much, much closer. But he couldn’t risk revisiting that memory.
12
“It was just a coincidence,” Chris said in a low voice. When they had gotten back to Kate’s apartment, she had been nearly hysterical. Chris had wanted to do a building check first thing, but Kate’s incessant trembling had rendered him unable to leave her side. They sat together on the couch, in silence, until Chris spoke. “I know it was scary, and I’m sorry I threw you down like that. I just reacted. I couldn’t not react.”
“I know,” Kate said tonelessly. “It’s okay. You were just doing your job. I just…what if…?” Her voice cracked on the last word and her lower lip trembled. She hugged herself tightly and choked out a sob. Until this afternoon she had thought of her particular situation as being somehow removed from herself. Intellectually, she was aware of the danger she could be facing, but realistically she hadn’t believed it to be something she would ever have to confront. The afternoon’s events had left her shaken, to say the last.
Chris didn’t hesitate, and pulled her tightly to his chest. He let Kate break down in tears against him, shoulders heaving, and held her, one hand stroking her hair and the other planted firmly on her back. He didn’t say a word while they sat together, but deep inside he was in awe that she had held it together so well for so long. Kate was a strong woman, who had gone through a lot all on her own. Chris didn’t have to wonder if this was the first time she had allowed herself to lean on someone else, to break down in the presence of another. He knew. The sobs wracking her body weren’t entirely from nerves or the emotional shock of the day wearing on her; they were coming from a much deeper place, where they had been buried for a long time.
“You just do that all the time?” Kate asked finally, once she had composed herself. She didn’t pull away from Chris’s chest, so he couldn’t see her face when she spoke.
“Do what?” Chris asked huskily, still idly running his fingers through her hair, meaning to give comfort but taking it, too.
“Jump on top of people who are being shot at?”
“You weren’t being shot at, Kate.”
“You didn’t know that, though,” Kate finally pulled back to look at him, and Chris felt a pang of disappointment at the loss of her pleasant warmth.
“That’s my job,” he said simply.
Kate shook her head, amazed. “You could die at any time, protecting someone else. How do you do it?”
Chris considered her question. “I don’t know, I guess I never really thought about it. I suppose I always thought that the people around me had something to live for, and I needed to make sure they could.” His throat tightened as the words conjured an image of Jackson in his mind.
“And you don’t have anything to live for?” Kate said in disbelief. “That’s crazy. I don’t have anything more to live for than you do.”
“Don’t talk like that,” Chris replied harshly. “You’re…just don’t talk like that, okay? It doesn’t matter anyway; nothing is going to happen to you while I’m around.”
“Because O’Bannon is paying you to risk your safety for mine.”
Chris leaned toward Kate, his forehead nearly touching hers. He picked up both her hands and held them in his. “Because I refuse to let anything bad to happen to you,” he responded quietly. Kate held her breath, her mouth dry. Chris was so close to her she could see the tiny flecks of gold scattered in his green eyes. They stared at each other, each afraid to move and lose the moment, when suddenly Kate’s door buzzer went off.
They both flinched. “I, um, better get the door,” Kate muttered.
“Yeah,” Chris agreed, then he jumped up. “No! I mean, I should, you know, do the bodyguard thing, so…”
Awkwardly, he made his way over to the intercom, and cleared his throat. “Yeah?” he said into the box.
“Chris, it’s Holly,” the tinny voice floated up through the speaker. “I forgot the code word you gave me, so let’s just say it’s ‘spaghetti,’ and I’m saying ‘spaghetti.’”
Kate grinned. As frustrating as it was to have the most intense moment she had shared with a man in over a year ruined so abruptly, Holly would be a welcome sight.
“Well, how do I know you really did forget the code word, and you’re not just trying to signal that you’re in danger?” Chris leaned against the wall, ready to debate.
“Oh, snap,” Holly’s voice responded. “I didn’t even think of that. Well, what’s the code word for
‘no, seriously, everything is cool, please let me in?’”
“It was ‘lasagna,’ and you were supposed to use it in a sentence that made sense. Like, ‘hey, it’s Holly, and I’m here for the lasagna dinner.’”
“Damn it, I knew it was something delicious. Okay, lasagna. I promise to remember the lasagna from now on, lasagna. Can I lasagna come up?”
“When you say it that many times in a row, it starts to sound not real, doesn’t it?” Chris mused.
Kate walked over to the intercom and buzzed Holly in. She gave Chris a stern look. “The intercom is not a toy,” she said primly.
“It works really well as one,” Chris marveled.
Holly burst through the door a moment later, carrying takeout bags. “I brought food,” she announced.
“Italian?” Chris asked, peeking in a bag.
“Chinese,” Holly responded. “Real New Yorkers bring offerings of Chinese takeout because it’s the only thing they can afford in this lavish city.”
“Hey,” Kate took the bags from Holly and gave her a hug. “What are you doing here? And bearing gifts of food?”
Holly squeezed Kate tightly, prolonging the hug and forcing a surprised gust of air from Kate’s lungs. “What do you think I’m doing here, crazy? Michael called me and told me what happened today! I had to come check on you!”
“Michael?” Kate’s mind when momentarily blank, then it struck her. “Michael? The waiter you beat up?”
Without releasing her friend from her python-like embrace, Holly sighed. “I wish you wouldn’t describe it that way. It’s not like he went to the hospital or anything. And, I remind you yet again, he didn’t even drop the tray. So let’s keep some perspective, okay?”
Squirming free from Holly, Kate furrowed her brow. “How did Michael know what happened, anyway? I didn’t even see him there.”
“Well Carrie, the hostess, she remembered you from that time we were there, ‘cause of the whole nickels thing,” Holly explained. “So obviously she told Michael the story since we’ve been seeing each other, and he told me.”
Kate looked at Chris, eyebrows raised. “Small world,” she mumbled. What does that mean for Wash? Kate wondered. If news can travel that fast in a city as big as New York, what are the odds of Wash not finding me? Judging from the expression on Chris’s face, he was thinking similar thoughts.
“Let’s eat,” Chris forced a smile onto his face and began pulling out paper boxes of food. “What’s the Italian-iest Chinese food? Probably something with noodles?”
Kate began setting out plates. “What’s your obsession with Italian food?” She asked, opening up a pair of chopsticks. “Are you having a major craving or something?”
“Something like that,” Chris agreed, sniffing a package of egg rolls suspiciously. “I’m craving something made with love and fresh ingredients, not…whatever the hell this is. Holly, where did you get this stuff?”
“It’s this little place in Chinatown,” Holly said vaguely. “Looks like a little garage kind of place, but they also make food.”
Kate dropped her unopened container of fried rice. “They also make food?” she asked incredulously. “Is this place more of a garage, or more of a restaurant? Actually, never mind.” She began putting all the containers back in their bags. “Holly, we’re going to get sick if we eat this stuff.”
Holly began to protest, then reconsidered. “Yeah, probably,” she admitted. “But they had a really good deal on the day old seafood, and it’s like…what even is one day, really?”
Kate gagged quietly. Chris took a much less polite approach. “A day is pretty significant when you’re talking about fish coming out of a garage!” He exclaimed in disgust. “That’s just unsettling. Holly,” he pointed at her. “Don’t do that again. Kate,” he turned to his charge. “Do you have a pasta maker?”
Kate groaned. “Yes, but I don’t know how to use it,” she warned. “There’s some frozen pizza in the freezer, let’s just make that.”
Chris put his hands to his face and sighed. “Kate,” he began, his voice muffled. “You are your own person, and I respect that. But my God, woman.” He lowered his hands and looked at her sternly. “I have been here for over a week now, and you’ve eaten nothing but salads, frozen pizza, and that can of Chef Boyardee that you ate cold. Yeah, I saw that,” he insisted when Kate began to protest. “It was disgusting so I pretended I didn’t, but I saw. Now, it’s my job to protect you, but if you don’t start eating some real food you’re probably going to contract some sort of stomach infection, and I’m not going to get a recommendation from O’Bannon. So you ladies go sit in the den and try to make less revolting decisions in your life, and I’m going to cook us all dinner.”
Holly and Kate stared at each other for a moment before bursting into peals of laughter.
“You’re going to make us dinner?” Kate asked. “Talk about bad eating habits! You’ve eaten nothing but candy since I’ve met you!” Turning to Holly, she explained, “His duffel is packed with mostly candy and maybe two changes of clothes, I swear. He has some fruit at breakfast, a granola bar at dinner, and the rest of the day he’s snacking on sugar.”
“Yeah?” Chris shrugged, unperturbed. “Man can exist on sugar alone for a shockingly long time. But after a while, man needs to eat some freaking garlic bread and meatballs, so if you please, ladies?” He gestured to the living room, and the women reluctantly left, giggling on the way to the couch.
Kate and Holly sat and talked while Chris busied himself in the kitchen. He brought the women glasses of red wine, and Kate began to suspect that her bodyguard might actually have been serious about possessing significant culinary skills.
A bottle of wine later, when Holly and Kate were nearly drooling at the tempting smells wafting from the kitchen, Chris finally presented each woman with a heaping plate of his homemade spaghetti and meatballs.
“Oh my God!” Holly closed her eyes after taking a bite and moaned. “This is the best thing that’s ever happened to my mouth.”
Kate nodded. “That’s an unpleasant way of saying it, but you’re so right. Chris, this is amazing! Where did you learn to cook like this?”
Chris was balancing his own plate of pasta under a platter of garlic bread, and carried another bottle of wine in his other hand. He handed Kate the wine and set down the bread tray on the coffee table before responding. “I don’t really know, I just kinda got into it.” He shrugged. “You know how there’s always a special dish that your mom makes, and no one can ever make it quite as good as she does?” Kate and Holly nodded; Kate thinking immediately of Helena Burt’s cheesy potatoes with bacon bits, and Holly reminiscing about her mother’s chicken noodle soup.
“Well, I obviously never had a dish like that,” Chris continued, twirling a bite of spaghetti around his fork. “So I just started making my own meals up. I used an iron to make a toasted sandwich at one foster home I was in; boy, did that lady whoop my ass when she found the crusted cheese on her iron.” He smiled at the memory while Kate and Holly exchanged uncomfortable looks. “It was my way of creating my own sense of comfort, I guess. And when I left for the military, I was used to making a meal out of next to nothing, so the guys I was stationed with started bringing me supplies like Kit-Kat bars and Ramen noodles and whatever else they’d get in their packages from home, to see what I could make with them.”
“But Chris, this is insanely good food,” Kate gestured to her now empty plate. “I mean, I’ve eaten in some pretty amazing New York restaurants, and your pasta crushes theirs!” She picked up the fresh wine bottle and refilled her glass.
“Yeah, that’s totally true. I’ve eaten out of some of the best dumpsters in the city,” Holly took the wine bottle from Kate, topping off her own glass. She hiccupped into her hand. “’Scuse me. Anyway, your food is bonkers, Chris. So, so good. I can’t believe you gained that kind of” she waved her hand vaguely “kitchen witchery from throwing things together in the desert.”
Chri
s reached across to Holly and snagged the bottle from her, taking a long pull straight from the neck. “Actually, I worked on a line for the first two years after I got back from Iraq,” he admitted sheepishly. “One of my buddies opened a place in SoHo, and I learned a lot in his kitchen.”
“Why’d you quit?” Kate asked, spilling a bit of wine out of her glass with an unsteady hand. She was getting a little tipsy, and didn’t notice the long pause before Chris answered, or the gruff tone of his voice when he spoke.
“I started to feel tied down.” Chris took another drink from the bottle. He looked like he was getting a little toasted, too, now that Kate thought about it. And Holly, the tiny lightweight that she had been since her first sip of hard cider when she was fourteen, was already swaying in her seat. “I wasn’t ready for a normal job and a normal life, I guess. I still needed some danger in my life.”
Kate smiled ruefully. “Like the danger that comes with protecting a mean librarian,” she teased.
Chris laughed, choking a bit on his wine. “Well, to be honest,” he sputtered. “This job has been a little more eventful than my last few. It’s kinda like an action movie, you know? Protect the beautiful, brilliant book critic from a deranged psychopath…” he trailed off, noticing the way Kate was looking at him. “What?”
“You think I’m beautiful and brilliant?” Kate blushed and looked away. God, I sound like a teenage girl! She chastised herself. Now he probably thinks I’m a drunken idiot.
But when she met Chris’s eyes again, he was looking at her seriously. “Of course I do, Kate. It’s just one of those undeniable truths. You’re stubborn and you frustrate the hell out of me sometimes, but that’s a big part of what makes you beautiful.”
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