Ford
Adelaide’s fighting me tooth and nail every step of the way.
I wish I could say I’m surprised, but I’m not.
It’s not like I expected her to welcome me with open arms, but this is getting a bit fucking tedious.
Her arms crossed on her chest just screams ‘petulant toddler throwing a fit’, but it’s endearing all the same.
So beautiful.
So snarky.
Had she always been like this?
Still, I can’t stop the roguish smirk that forms on my face.
“I’m going to scope out the village, locate any problem areas, and work to secure them,” I say, not taking my eyes off hers. “Then, we can go from there.”
As I turn to walk away, she bursts out, issuing a challenge. “You can’t just barge in here and take charge, you know. There are things that we have to do, and you getting in my way is the last thing we need.”
“Do what you need to, and I’ll do what I need to.” I keep walking, fully intent on learning the layout today.
My thoughts wander as I make my way around the village, noting areas that raise cause for concern.
I can understand why she’s pissed. She’s a professional, but I’ve been called in to do a job, and she’s just going to have to fucking accept that.
I admire what she’s doing. She’s always been selfless, despite being an heiress.
Through our old school, I’ve had the misfortune of meeting many spoiled heiresses who demanded they be treated as though they were princesses.
Not Adelaide, though.
That’s probably the main reason I’ve always been drawn to her.
Even now, years later, she’s using her education and skills for the better good.
To help people in a job that’s demanding, rather than taking the glamorous route.
And honestly, this village is anything but glamorous.
The huts are rundown, the terrain’s dangerous, and it’s plain to see that there are threats all around, animalistic and otherwise.
The trek takes a few hours because I’m being absolutely thorough, scanning for potential issues and jotting down notes as I go.
Every now and then, a curious villager approaches me, albeit with caution.
I can see their eyes questioning me, and I do my best to make sure they know I’m not a threat.
My hulking frame’s enough to put them on guard, but I smile and wave, taking special care not to scare the kids.
I make my way back to the hospital hut, where Adelaide is busy helping a young mother with her child.
The sight makes me stop in my tracks.
The look on her face is gentle and soft as she tends to the little boy who can’t be more than three.
It’s nothing like the scowls she’s been throwing my way since I told her I was here to watch over her.
She smiles at the duo before sending them on their way, and my heart thumps against my ribcage.
I’ve always loved her smile. It’s genuine—dazzling, even.
Our eyes connect, and the smile abruptly disappears from her face.
“It’s you.” She stands up, scowl firmly back in place.
I grunt.
“Is that all you have to say?”
I shrug.
Now I’m just pushing her buttons, and I know it.
“Honestly, Ford…” She starts walking away, and I follow behind her. “Are you just going to follow me everywhere I go?”
She reels around, placing her hands on her hips.
It takes everything in me not to burst out laughing, because it’s just so fucking adorable.
“That’s kind of what security entails.” My voice is nonchalant.
“The village is perfectly fine. You don’t have to be on my rear end with every step I take.”
“Fine? Hardly. So much can go wrong here, you know.”
“And I’ve been fine without you.”
Lucky, I think.
I mean, it’s sure to be only a matter of time, but I don’t say that to her.
“Well, here’s the deal, sunshine. In order to keep you safe, I’m gonna have to stay close. You’re gonna have to get used to it.”
“How close?”
“We’ll be sharing that hut. That close.”
“Like hell we will, Ford! I’m not welcoming you and all your…” She gestures to my gear. “There’s simply no room.”
“I’ll make room.”
“Ford!” her loud yell draws the attention of nearby villagers, who all turn to see what the commotion’s about.
A scarlet hue blooms on her cheeks, and I can’t help but chuckle.
“It’s not funny,” she whispers—though it’s more like a yelling whisper, to be honest.
“It is funny. The irony here is, you’re hell-bent on not creating a fuss, but in doing so, you’re creating it instead of preventing it.”
I’m amused by the whole situation, which is only pissing her off more.
Her clear blue eyes are murky, simmering with quiet rage. I figure I’d better lay off.
“Anyway, we’ll share your—”
“No, absolutely not,” she cuts me off.
“If it’s a question of the gear, I can—”
“It’s a question of you and an invasion of my privacy.”
She’s not backing down.
Yep, same ol’ Adelaide. Stubborn to a fault.
“Listen, I really don’t need you here. I’m fine, so you can just gather your stuff up and go back home.”
“That’s not happening.”
“Yes, it is. I’m firing you.”
“That’s cute and all, but you didn’t hire me. So you can’t fire me.”
She huffs.
“Look, if it’s really a problem…” I start.
“It is!”
“Will you listen to me, dammit?” Now she’s starting to get the best of me. No way I’m letting her see that, though. “How about this—I’ll set up a tent outside your hut and put my gear in there. I’ll sleep in your hut, on a separate cot close to the door.”
“No.”
“Stop being stubborn, Adelaide. This is the best we can do.”
“No. The best thing you can do is go home.”
“That’s not happening.”
I’m starting to sound like a broken fucking record.
This conversation’s going on a short fucking trip to Nowheresville, so I just walk away.
She can fight me on this all later, but I’m going to do what I came here to do.
I walk the short distance to her hut and find an empty plot of space to set up my tent.
It’s hardy enough to withstand the environment and large enough for me to sleep in, if it absolutely comes down to that.
But it won’t.
The only way I can keep her safe is to be the barrier between the door and her, and the only way to do that is to sleep next to her.
I set up my gear in the tent and head back to the hut to secure it as best as I can.
The outside’s a disaster waiting to happen, but it isn’t all that bad inside.
Adelaide’s belongings are neatly set up, her clothes on one side and equipment on the other.
Her cot’s neatly made, and for one brief second, I wonder what it would be like to share the cot with her.
To have her in my arms, to feel her soft body next to mine.
With a shake of my head, I quickly dispel those thoughts.
It will never happen.
I’m not good enough for her. I wasn’t all those years ago, and I’m not now.
Nothing’s changed.
Except now, she’s even more beautiful than she was then.
Sleeping in close quarters probably isn’t my brightest idea, after all.