“Elizabeth, you need to move! Get out of there!” I shoot up from my spot, making sure my head doesn’t peek out from the top of my cover. Shit! Taking one final breath, I make a run for it not even sure of where I’m supposed to go. Then it hits me. I scream out, first in shock, then in pain.

“I’ve been hit!” I crumble down to the ground, clutching my ass cheek. I can’t believe I just got shot in the ass!

Alex comes running toward me but stops so that he’s still covered. “Don’t worry. I’ll avenge you.” He takes off again and I lose sight of him. If I weren’t in so much pain, I would laugh at his playfulness. I get to my hands and knees and crawl off the course, scared to death that some asshole is going to hit me again. I take a seat on the bleachers making sure to lean to my left to keep off of my injured side.

Looking at the field, I see that it’s down to two guys now: Alex and one from the opposing team. Alex’s moves are calculated and stealth like. He reminds me of a panther stalking its prey, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike. They’re on opposite sides of the course, but Alex stops advancing toward him. Instead, he holds his position and lays on his stomach with his gun raised. He’s patient as he waits for the guy to make his move. Finally, he does. He makes a break for it from behind his cover, and that mistake costs him. Alex lands a shot in the middle of his chest and is declared the winner. I hop up, clapping and cheering, wincing in pain as I do.

Hobbling over toward Alex, he wraps me up in a hug before spinning me around. My pain has been forgotten as I enjoy this carefree moment. “That was awesome!” he exclaims.

“Yeah, you did really well. Great job!”

He sets me down and concern takes over his face. “Where’d you get hit? Are you alright?”

My lips press together, slightly embarrassed by the location of my injury. “I’m fine.” I’m trying to evade his first question, hoping he moves on.

He looks me over for a paint spot. “I don’t see any paint. You got hit, right?” I nod and slowly turn around. It takes a second, but I know the moment he sees it because I hear a deep chuckle from behind me. “Of all the places to get shot, you take one to the ass. Nice, sweetheart,” he says with mirth still in his voice.

Not wanting him to keep laughing at the bright-orange dot on my butt, I turn around. “I feel like Forest Gump,” I deadpan.

“Well let me see your buttocks then,” he says in a slow southern drawl mimicking Tom Hanks from that movie. I can’t help myself, I start laughing. It is pretty funny when you think about it. He joins me, the corners of his eyes crinkling in amusement. “Come on, Gump. Let me take you home.” Throwing his arm over my shoulders, he walks me to the car.

Once I’m buckled into the passenger seat, I take my phone out of my bag and check it. I have five missed calls from Cal.

Great.

“Cal called five times,” I tell Alex. “I guess I better get this over with and call him back.” With great dread, I dial his number.

“Where have you been?” With the way his words come out, his teeth must be clenched. I also take notice that his voice is low, so he must not be alone and doesn’t want to cause a scene. Thank God.

“I’m sorry, love. I went shopping and left my phone in the car. I’m on my way home now.” The lie falls from my mouth before I can give it much thought. If he’s home he’ll know I’m being dishonest by my attire and lack of shopping bags.

“I called to tell you that I’m going to be home late tonight. Everything’s going to hell in a handbasket on the Senate floor and it’s going to be a long night.”

“Alright.”

I hear him talking to someone away from the phone in a muffled tone. “Elizabeth, I’ve got to go. I’ll call you later.” The phone disconnects before I can respond.

“Looks like it’s just you and me until later tonight,” I say to Alex as I slip my phone back into my purse.

“What do you want to do?” His eyes remain on the road.

I give it some thought. What I want to do and should do are two different things. “Let’s go home and have a drink.”

“WHAT DO YOU want?” I ask as we walk through the front door.

“I’ll just have a beer.” I walk to the fridge to get a beer for him and a glass of wine for me.

“Here you go.”

“You sure you’re okay? You’re limping.”

“I’m fine, it’s just a little sore.” I wave him off hoping to convince him that it’s not a big deal. Truth be told, it hurts quite a bit and I’m sure it’s going to have a nice bruise. But I don’t want to make him feel bad.

“You’re lying. Do you want me to look at it?” Surprisingly, there’s no flame of desire when he asks this, just concern, worry, and affection. Still, my cheeks redden at the thought of him examining my ass.

“No, I’ll live. I’m just going to run upstairs and change real quick.” Today was definitely out of my element, but it was the most fun I’d had in a while. It would’ve been better if I hadn’t been shot, but it was a neat experience nonetheless. I was able—well, forced—to step out of my comfort zone and I love that Alex made me do it.

Stripping out of my clothes, I walk to the full-length mirror in my bra and thong to get the first glimpse of my wound. A gasp comes out when I take in the red and purple welt marking my skin. “Shit, Elizabeth, I’m so sorry.” I spin around, startled by Alex’s presence and very aware of my half-naked state.

I try to cover my body with my hands, but my attempts are in vain. “Jesus Christ, what are you doing in here?”

He holds up an icepack. “I came up to give this to you. Thought it might help, but now I feel like shit.” His shoulders sag, emphasizing his guilt. “I didn’t realize you’d get hurt like that. I’m so sorry.” Walking closer to me, he cups my face in his hands while searching my eyes. He does this a lot, always looking into my eyes for something. It used to be unnerving, now I find it comforting. The idea that he sees into me, into my soul, a welcomed difference from the passiveness and disregard I receive from Cal.

“I just bruise easily,” I say with a shrug. “It looks worse than it is.” Neither of us speak or break eye contact. Lust and desire slowly cloud over his baby blues as a throbbing pulse starts up in my core. It dawns on me that this is a very bad idea and I’m playing with fire with a bed sitting directly behind me. When we’re locked into each other like this, the sexual current flowing freely, things tend to get out of hand. I don’t trust myself to stop whatever might happen once the first move is made. “Let me finish getting dressed and I’ll join you downstairs, okay?” My voice comes out in a whisper. He nods, but doesn’t let me go. A few moments pass by before he shakes his head infinitesimally as if pulling himself out of his trance. He leans forward and kisses the tip of my nose before walking out of the room and closing the door behind him.

I can’t get over the tenderness of what he just did. That kiss was something different. It wasn’t about raw need, passion, or attraction like when we’ve kissed before. This was gentle, kind, and sweet. It may be the exact opposite of what we’ve shared before, but it affects me just the same, maybe even more. When we’re frantic, I could attribute our behavior to lust. But when he does things like that, it makes me feel like I mean more to him, like I’m cherished.

Once I’m downstairs, I find Alex on his trusty barstool drinking his beer. “You love that barstool, don’t you?”

Looking over his shoulder at me, he says, “Huh?”

“It seems like you’re always sitting there. There are more comfortable places to sit in this house.” I lean my hip against the island and grab my wine before taking a sip.

“If I sit here, I have a clear view to the front and back door.” That’s right, he’s working. It’s strange that at times I forget the reason he’s here is to protect me.