The Author and Her Bodyguard

Chapter 5

There didn't seem to be more than one way that Aiden gazed at people. He stared at me the same way he gazed at Blondie in the hallway. With an unflinching stare that missed nothing. I could hardly look back at him without wanting to apologize. I didn't know what I was going to be apologizing for, but I still felt the urge to do it. Those stupid blue eyes made you want to confess to crimes you didn't commit. 

I ended up staring down at the tabletop, trying to talk my cheeks out of turning five shades of red for the rest of the time we were at the restaurant. It didn't work, but I still tried to keep the shades of red to a non-embarrassing level. 

Sanders left Aiden with the task of driving me to the book signing so she could get caught up on paperwork, which was fair considering she had spent the last twelve hours acting like my own personal hotel. Well, if a hotel had a "you have two minutes to grab your things and make it to my car," policy. 

I followed Aiden outside, after an awkward goodbye in which Brandon smiled wildly trying not to laugh as he remembered that I thought that a seventy-five-year-old man was asking to be my bodyguard. We walked down the street in complete silence, Aiden leading the way.  

We reached a sleek black car and Aiden opened the passenger's door for me. I climbed inside and offered him a smile. "Thanks for what you did back there," I said rubbing the back of my neck. Without a word, he closed the door and walked over to the driver's side. 

I really shouldn't have tried to start a conversation while we were getting into the car. The long pause between me climbing in, and him starting the car was WAY too long for it to be anything else but awkward. I tried again as he pulled the car out of his parallel parking job in a quick fluid motion, moving into the morning traffic with ease.

"That guy really freaked me out so... thanks for stepping in." 

Aiden didn't respond. Instead, he continued to stare at the road, fingers gripping the wheel casually. The silence continued to grow, and instead of taking the hint that he clearly wasn't interested in having a conversation, I kept talking like the unfiltered, sleep-deprived jittery person that I was. "The restaurant was supposed to be closed, so I have no idea how he got in." 

I shifted in my seat, adjusting my seatbelt, tugging several strands of my hair free from the strap. "It was like he was a magician or something. Well no... not a magician. Magicians tend to make people happy. Well, they make people happy when they are doing their job right, or else they just make people feel uncomfortable." Like this conversation. 

"A magician can make or break a party—." 

"He worked there," Aiden cut in, saving me from continuing my terrible monologue about magicians. Something was clearly wrong with my brain. 

"He works there?" I asked, confused. 

"Worked," Aiden corrected, his tone dark, fingers gripping the wheel tighter. 

"Oh," I replied quietly. "Did you talk to the owner or something?" 

He didn't respond, returning to his prior quiet status. And with that, our conversation died, leaving us to drive for another forty-five minutes in complete silence.  I tried to make small talk, but my efforts pretty much died when I realized that he had no intention of engaging in conversation after he told me that he had either gotten Blondie fired or killed him. It was like sitting next to a wall. A very attractive and irritating wall. 

I felt like an idiot trying to talk to someone who so clearly wanted me to shut up. It was the most awkward car ride I had ever had. Which was saying something. Especially since I shared a ride with one of Sanders's erotic novelists once who had insisted on explaining where she got her inspiration for one of her elderly love scenes. I still had nightmares.