I smile for the first time since we left his apartment. “No, just part of my training.”
Understanding dawns on his face. “Ah, ever watchful for danger.”
“That’s my job,” I sing-song. A little reminder can’t hurt. I don’t know what’s going through Payton’s mind, though I have my suspicions, but he needs to understand that’s all this is for me. All it can ever be.
A job.
Which could lead to an even better one if I keep my focus on why I’m here—to protect my principal against any clear or potential threat.
I finish skimming the menu. “I think I’ll try the burger.”
Payton pulls his brows together. “The Turtle Tide is known for its seafood, which they bring in daily from that very ocean you see out the window.”
After holding my hands up, I drop them to my thighs in a light slap. “What can I say? I’m going for land food.”
He lets out a chuckle that sends an unexpected shot of pleasure through me. “Surely we can do better than that.”
“Why? I’m perfectly happy with a burger.”
“We Brits are known for our fish and chips, but I hate to admit this chef mightjust outdo us.”
“I didn’t like them there, so I’m probably not going to like them here either.”
“So, you don’t care for seafood?”
“Not really.” I scrunch up my face, debating on telling him how I got a serious case of food poisoning from a spoiled shrimp once, but decide to forgo the gory details. That kind of conversation doesn’t fit well in a restaurant.
He sighs. “What about a grilled mahi-mahi sandwich? That’s close to a burger.”
The man will not let this go. “Fine. I’ll try it. But if I don’t like it?—”
“I promise I’ll order you a burger.” He concedes with a gallant dip of his chin.
“With cheese,” I counter, just to bring the point home.
“Fine.” He slaps his menu onto the side of the table.
I do the same. “Fine.”
Our server appears, takes our selections and the menus, then darts off to get our drinks. Payton fiddles with unwrapping his silverware and placing his napkin on his lap. I imagine his parents went to great lengths to teach him proper etiquette, especially considering their ties to royalty, but the whole hockey thing still throws me.
His refined and sophisticated side peeks out when he’s not playing hockey. And on the ice, he’s like this sexy powerhouse who owns it. I’ve found most of my assignments mundane, sometimes boring, but I find Payton’s dichotomy fascinating.
Leaning forward, I fold my arms on the table. “Do you see yourself doing something else down the road?”
“Does it bother you that I’m a hockey player?” Mischief dances in his blue eyes.
“No, not at all. But there’s a time limit to it, right? At some point, you’ll retire.”
“True, but hopefully, that won’t be for a long time. Barring injuries, of course. Although I will say having my bodyguard help me shower will remain a highlight in my career.”
The heat in his gaze matches the warmth rising from my neck to my cheeks. I take a sip of the ice water our server left on the table. “Can we forget that ever happened?”
“I’d rather you didn’t.”
“Payton!”
“What?” His attempt at innocence is comical.
