The words seemed to suck the oxygen from the campsite. Maybe he shouldn’t have said that. It gave away too much. But he couldn’t regret letting Grace know she was special.
“Thanks,” she said softly, gazing into his eyes with a look of surprise. “That’s kind of you to say.”
He pulled away from her sweet gaze. He’d known all along what his last secret would be. “Guess it’s my turn. I told you I’m in security, but that’s not the whole truth. I’m a Secret Service agent.”
Grace laughed in disbelief.
He turned slowly and just stared at her, watching silently as realization registered. As the humor fell from her face.
Finally her eyes widened and her mouth slackened. “You’re serious. Well, no wonder you can fight like that. That is so cool. So do you protect the president or whatever?”
“Agents do a lot more than just that. Some handle federal investigations like fraud or computer hacking. Currently I protect visiting heads of state and other high-profile officials. I’m working my way up to presidential detail.”
“That’s amazing. The competition for that must be insane, not to mention the training.”
“It’s fairly rigorous.”
“Why do I have the feeling you’re understating it?”
She wasn’t wrong. The year he’d applied there’d been sixteen thousand recruits and two hundred had made the final cut.
“It’s all making sense now. How serious you are. How you’re always calculating and measuring until it makes you want to squirm—and all the while you’re wearing the straightest poker face ever.”
He hiked a brow. “I think some of those bad thoughts are starting to come out.”
“That was the good stuff.”
He laughed. She was always surprising him in the best of ways. “Yikes.”
Maybe the firelight was deceiving, but he could swear she was blushing a little.
“What a job—you risk your life every day. The bullet wound,” she said suddenly. “You did get that in the line of duty.”
“Like I said.”
“It looked fairly recent, so you must be off work while you’re recovering.” She jerked toward him. “You’re the one who took a bullet for Senator Edwards.”
She was a sharp one. “Bingo.”
“I can’t believe you’re here in Bluebell. At our inn. It was in all the papers. You’re practically famous.”
“I prefer to remain in the background.”
“Of course, your job. I completely get that. You must’ve hated being all over the news.”
“It’s settled down now, thankfully.”
“What does your tattoo mean? The one on your bicep.”
“It’s a Celtic symbol for ‘guardian.’” He gave her a wry look. “And now I think I’m all out of revelations. It’s your turn.”
“If there’s a winner in this game, it’s definitely not me. I feel downright boring now.”
“Don’t knock boring.” Besides, she seemed pretty adventurous to him.
There was a long pause while she gave the last revelation some thought. He understood. Each piece of information was like giving someone a glimpse into the window of your life. What piece of yourself was safe to give away? That depended on how much you trusted the other person.
“I, um . . . I have a lot of guilt,” Grace said finally.
She was staring at the fire now, fiddling with the zipper of his jacket. He waited her out.
“Something happened when I was little. Something I never really talk about. Someone died and I didn’t, and deep down I feel like it should’ve been me. Sometimes I feel guilty for just . . . being alive.”
“Survivor’s guilt,” he said softly.
She looked at him. “Yes.”
“Big load to carry.”
“It weighs a million pounds.”
He knew. After all, wasn’t he carrying the same weight? The guilt from doing nothing while some monster took his mom’s life. He deserved to feel guilty. But Grace didn’t. He was certain her circumstances didn’t warrant the punishment she’d imposed upon herself.
He was equally sure nothing he could say would make her feel better. It was something she needed to process on her own.
“That’s hard. I’m really sorry you’re dealing with that.”
She gave him a befuddled look. “That’s not the response I expected—kind of dreaded, actually.”
“What’d you expect?”
“That you’d try to fix it.”
“I would if I could. Sometimes it’s best to work things out on your own.”
Her eyes searched his. “I completely agree.”
He wondered what she hoped to find. What she was thinking. Feeling. The attraction went both ways, that much was obvious. He knew, for instance, that if he leaned toward her and placed a kiss on those sweet lips, she’d respond in kind. But he shouldn’t lead her on.
He turned away, gave the fire one last stir. Then he