Her Temporary Bodyguard

(Part 11) Chapter Ten

They chose a roadside diner for their breakfast. Tara tucked her feet up on the bench and leaned against the wall, peering out of the booth at the few other patrons. Most of them appeared to be truckers and not one of them looked like Italian mobsters from New York. She sipped her coffee as they waited for the waitress to return to take their orders. Glancing at Logan out of the corner of her eye, she watched him frown over the newspaper. A small smile twitched at the corner of her mouth. It was adorable that he was that invested in the words he was reading. Tara wasn't much for keeping up with current events, but she sensed that Logan was the type who needed to know what was going on in the world around him. She appreciated that intensity. Without his dedication, he wouldn't have found her and she might not be alive to watch the vertical lines between his eyebrows deepen as he frowned. It tempted her to reach out and smooth the worry away, but she kept her hand wrapped around the coffee cup, suddenly frozen in place.

Logan felt the weight of Tara's gaze and glanced up to see her eyes widen in a slightly horrified expression. He stilled.

"What?" He turned slowly to look over his shoulder, taking in the whole diner in a sweeping gaze before turning back to meet her gaze. "Tara, what is it?"

"Nothing," she said with a shake of her head. She blinked and forced a smile onto her face. "Nothing."

"Tara, if you saw something, or someone," Logan trailed off as she shook her head again. She'd bound her hair back in a long, intricate braid and it made her chartreuse eyes seem bigger somehow.

"I didn't. I promise. I just," she paused. "I just thought of something, okay?"

"Tara."

"Logan, it's nothing." He was taken aback by the sudden snap to her tone, but the waitress appeared before he could question Tara further. He glanced at her for a moment, then decided that she could keep her thoughts to herself for now.

"What can I get y'all?" The waitress asked, her pen poised above her notepad.

"I'll have the house waffle plate, with a side of bacon and more coffee please," Tara replied breezily, in a British accent that threw Logan for a loop. She offered the waitress a pretty smile, which made the waitress smile and suddenly Logan felt as though he'd missed out on something important.

"And for you, sir?" The waitress asked. Logan had to glance at the menu again and then ordered an omelette and toast. When they were alone again, Tara turned a slightly irritated expression on him.

"Really? An omelette? After I just ordered a dinner-plate waffle with the works? Not very gentlemanly of you."

"Where did this come from?" Logan asked her, waving his hand in her general direction as he tried to indicate the accent she had suddenly developed. Tara took a sip of her coffee and his gaze stayed locked on her, soaking up every nuance of each movement she made.

"Just something I picked up along the way," she said with a shrug. Logan didn't know if he wanted to shake her or hug her. She was so full of surprises, so unexpectedly wonderful that he didn't know what he was going to do once they went their separate ways.

"What are we going to do once we reach Vegas?" Tara asked, keeping her accent. She needed to pretend to be someone else, for just a little while. It helped to adjust to the distance that Logan had forced between them a day before she was ready for it. Her heart stuttered when his gaze locked on hers. She was going to miss him when he left. The thought left a small hole in her heart, though she couldn't deny that it was going to happen. They had a plan. Logan was going to keep her alive long enough to get her to Las Vegas where her long-estranged brother was going to take over on watch duty, releasing Logan to return to the life that he'd abandoned on a phone call. Tara lifted her coffee cup, using it as a shield, as a distraction, as sudden tears threatened.