“He’s not my boyfriend,” Sheryl muttered to her mother for the third time. “I hired him to help me with a problem, and we’re just going to the bonfire tonight. That’s all.”
“The bonfire,” her mom said. “That’s…romantic.”
“Mom, stop.” She turned from the fridge, where she’d taken far too long to find the bottle of ketchup. “You just heat this at four hundred degrees for about an hour,” she said in a much louder voice.
Gage had sat at the table with her grandmother, who was currently educating him on the finer points of gin rummy. His face looked alert and bright, and Sheryl couldn’t help how handsome she found him.
He’s your bodyguard, she reminded herself, even if she had started to think about him more than normal. In fact, that afternoon, she’d had to shampoo her hair twice because s
