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She rubbed her tush and threw him a blatantly sultry look over her shoulder, promising him all kinds of sexy retribution in that one stare. He shifted in his seat and surreptitiously adjusted himself as he watched the sway of that gorgeous, pert arse as she strolled away from him.
He didn’t really mind her fascination with Chance. Her unquenchable thirst for knowledge was what prompted her to seek the man out and she would likely question him relentlessly about the ins and outs of his job. Trystan grinned a little at the thought. She was like a dog with a bone when she wanted to know something. He could personally attest to that fact. And he felt a little sorry for Chance, who rarely spoke and was always the epitome of discretion and professionalism.
Forty minutes later, Trystan was glaring at those two unlikeliest of compatriots and wondered what the fuck was so funny. Iris and Trystan’s previously reticent close-protection officer were chortling like a pair of fucking teenaged girls at a sleepover, and Trystan was starting to feel seriously aggrieved that his company had been so easily thrown aside.
Granted, Iris was probably happy for someone new to talk to after so many weeks of just Trystan’s surly arse for company. But—since Trystan was nowhere near sick of her company—he couldn’t quite curb the disturbing sting of jealousy and resentment he felt at suddenly having to share her with others.
The emotions were unfamiliar and disturbing. He’d never felt this chest-thumping possessiveness over any woman before, and he told himself it had to be because of how long he’d had her wholly to himself. Out in the real world, she’d have other men with whom to compare him, people vying for her attention and time, a whole life to get back to.
They’d been so focused on his life and the demands thereof that he hadn’t spared much thought to her family and friends. People whom she trusted, would go to for advice, and whose opinions she valued. People who might not approve of their relationship, who would hold sway in her decision-making processes. And he was suddenly terrified that the worst obstacles they had to face may not be found in the overwhelming reality of his life… but rather in the quiet appeal of hers.
“Trystan,” Iris’s voice from across the cabin jerked him from his troubling, invasive thoughts.
He lifted his head to meet her warm, smiling eyes and found himself helpless to do anything other than return her smile like a lovesick puppy.
“Have you ever been to Humpy Dunes?” she asked and Trystan’s brows lowered in confusion.
“What?” He watched through narrowed eyes as Chance caught her attention by quietly muttering her name. She refocused her attention to the still-seated man and tilted her head as she listened to whatever he had to say. Her face lit up in a broad self-effacing grin and she lifted her sparkling eyes back to Trystan’s face.
“Oops, sorry. My bad… Humpty Doo. Have you ever been to Humpty Doo? Home of Bite Tyson, the world’s biggest boxing saltwater croc?”
Trystan levered himself up and made his way toward the trio seated at a cluster of four seats, facing one another across a coffee table. Luna and Chance were in the two seats facing forward and Iris was facing aft, curled up, her feet tucked under her butt, looking as comfortable as she would in her own living room.
Trystan stood beside the empty seat next to Iris’s, one hand braced on the headrest as he awkwardly met his close-protection officer’s eyes. The man looked as uncomfortable as Trystan felt. They rarely spoke, really, and had never exchanged small talk.
“You from the Northern Territory, mate?” Trystan asked after clearing his throat. He was never awkward, but this was damned weird.
“Yeah.” Aah. The taciturn bastard was back, no trace left of the chuckling buffoon who’d comfortably exchanged pleasantries with Iris just a few minutes ago.
Trystan sat down next to Iris, and she lifted the rest to snuggle under his arm. Gratified by her easy affection, Trystan felt the tense knot that had settled in his chest start to ease up slightly and he placed an arm around her shoulders and tugged her even closer.
“Never spent much time up in the Northern Territory myself,” he expounded. Feeling a lot more confident now that he was holding Iris close again, he dismissed his former uncertainty and doubt as a mere aberration. Nothing to be overly concerned about. “A few flying visits for promotional purposes. D’ya get back often?”
“Nah, no reason to,” Chance said with a nonchalant lift of his shoulders, his hand dropped to Luna’s ruff and he stroked the sleeping dog almost absently. “No family or friends left there. My life and home are in London now.”
“London? I didn’t know that. Where?”
“Hammersmith.”
“You must be looking forward to getting home, then,” Iris said, her fingers delicately stroking over the veins on the back of Trystan’s hand. Her touch was sweet and distracting, but he fought to remain focused on the conversation. It wasn’t easy when Chance was so damned reticent in his responses.
“I am. I have the week off, so it’ll be nice to sleep in my own bed again.” The man’s direct gaze landed on Trystan’s face. “They will have someone filling in for me, of course.”
“Of course,” Trystan nodded, not having the slightest concern about that. “I did speak with Sam about a detail for Iris, though.”
He sensed Iris tensing beside him, but kept this gaze on Chance’s face.
“What?” she squeaked in protest. “Why? I don’t want or need anything like that.”
He sighed and redirected his gaze to her outraged face. “Because as soon as the press gets wind of you, they’re going to be relentless and I’d like to keep you protected from the worst of that.”
“But…”
“Iris, I’d feel better if you have some security, okay? This is…” He shook his head, hating that the restrictions of his life would inevitably have to spill over into hers. “It’s necessary. For your safety and my peace of mind. I’m sorry it has to be like this.”
Her teeth worried her plump lower lip and she graced him with a small smile.
“I suppose it was naïve of me not to consider this inevitability.”
