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“Many would disagree.” I stepped back from him, trying to escape his manly scent.
“Maybe they don’t know him.”
“You think you know him?” I folded my arms.
He shrugged. “I guess not. But I know his type.”
“Oh yeah, and what type is that?”
“The type who would kill to protect their family.”
He had that right. It was a pity Dad hadn’t been able to save Mom that way.
We fell into an easy silence that wasn’t strained or awkward. It was new territory for me to be around a virtual stranger and not feel guarded.
Every so often, I sensed his blue eyes watching me, but he would shift them away before I could catch him.
I had the feeling he was gearing up to ask me something I wouldn’t want to answer, so I said, “What’s your story, Kingsley?”
“Story?”
“Yeah, you know, kids? Wife? Trail of destruction behind you?”
He released a nervous chuckle, and I blinked at him. Had I hit a nerve?
“None of that.”
“What? No baggage?”
He shrugged. “Nope.”
“Hmmm.”
“Ever think about life off the boat?” His gaze fixed on me.
“Nope. And you changed the subject.”
“No, I didn’t. I told you I don’t have any baggage.”
“Then either you’re a fucking hermit or a liar.”
A fleeting shadow crossed his face but was hidden quickly by a half-smile. I had a feeling that he had some serious baggage.
I turned to the endless ocean ahead. “Don’t worry. You don’t have to tell me.”
He sighed. “It’s not that I don’t want to.”
I swooped my gaze at him, and a flicker of sadness crossed his eyes.
“I can’t tell you,” he finished.
I cocked my eyebrow. “Were you in the Secret Service or something?”
“Or something.” He shrugged, and for some crazy reason, I believed him.
“Playing with the big boys, huh?”
“Yep.” His tone held no malice, yet it was disarming. “What about you?”
