“Just trying to take care of you, baby.”
They boarded the train in the evening, Pilar exclaiming over the tiny sleeper cabin.
“Right cozy, eh?” Clive said. “Thought about booking you a cabin with two berths, but I reckoned you’d end up sharing a bunk no matter what.”
“It’s perfect.”
“Good. Get yourselves settled and we’ll meet in the lounge car for a bite.”
Loup unpacked a few necessary toiletries while Pilar checked the news feeds. “Anything new?”
“Nah. Same stories, no updates.” She glanced up. “Although a couple of them referred to Miguel Garza as ruggedly handsome.”
Loup laughed. “That’ll go straight to his head.”
They joined Clive in the lounge car, where he’d already ordered a bottle of red wine. “Cheers to you, girls,” he said, pouring for them and hoisting his glass. “You made me right proud today. Well done.”
“Thanks, sir.”
“Thanks,” Pilar echoed softly. “We couldn’t of done it without you. Well, I couldn’t. You and Addie.”
He sipped his wine and smacked his lips. “Just doing our jobs. Here’s to your first satisfied client. May he be the first of many!”
They ate dinner in the lounge car, lulled by the train’s steady rhythm and the warm red drapes around the windows framing the dark, invisible countryside. After dinner, Clive insisted on ordering a celebratory nightcap.
“Speyside single malt,” he said. “Best in the world.”
“Mmm.” Pilar tried hers and eyed Loup thoughtfully. “Tastes expensive.”
“I so know what you’re thinking,” Loup said.
“Mm-hmm.”
“Dial it down a notch, sunshine,” Clive advised her. “When you get your smolder on, I worry about innocent bystanders bursting into flame. Not to mention meself.”
“Sorry, sir.” Pilar tried to look penitent and non-smoldering.
“Ah, get out!” He laughed. “Young love and all. Finish your drinks, go back to your cabin. You’ve earned the right to celebrate.”
“Okay!”
In their cabin, Pilar rummaged in her things while Loup washed up in the tiny sink. “Hey, baby, c’mere. Close your eyes.”
“Why?”
“Just do it. Please?”
“Okay, okay!” Loup closed her eyes and felt something thin and cool settle around her throat, Pilar’s hands fidgeting at the nape of her neck.
“Okay, you can look.”
She went to look in the mirror and saw a finely linked gold chain, five glittering stones nestled in a subtle V formation beneath the hollow of her throat, winking brightly against her caramel skin and adding a point of interest to the plain white shirt she still wore. Loup touched the necklace with wondering fingers. “You bought this for me?”
“Uh-huh. They’re not real diamonds or anything,” Pilar added apologetically. “All I had was my tip money.”
“I don’t care. I love it.”
“C’mere.” Pilar tugged her over to sit on the single berth. “Loup… look. I don’t ever mean to get all weird and jealous.” She smiled wryly. “I never told you, but when we were first together, it freaked me out a little that you didn’t get jealous when I flirted with other people. All the guys I ever dated did. I thought it meant you didn’t care.”
“No! It’s just—”
“Oh, hush.” She pressed a finger against Loup’s lips, silencing her. “I figured it out, okay? It took me a while, but I did. You knew it didn’t mean anything. You don’t get jealous because you’re not insecure, and you don’t get insecure because you can’t. I can and I do. But that’s just stupid, right?”
“It’s not stupid.”
“Yeah, it is.” Pilar kissed her, soft and lingering. “Because I know you, baby. And I trust you. Like you said, with all my heart.” She pulled back, serious. “Things are different out here, you know? In Outpost, you had to hide what you were. Here, you don’t. And I love it. It makes me really happy. I love seeing you be yourself. But it also means that instead of a handful of people trying to keep your secret, there’s a ton of people totally intrigued by you. You’re you. You’re a one-and-only. I’m just trying to adjust, okay?”
Loup nodded. “Okay.”
“So this isn’t just a present for you.” She stroked the necklace. “It’s to help remind me how much I do trust you, and… I dunno. Lots of things.” She glanced at Loup. “Okay, it’s still just a cheap necklace. You don’t have to go all big and shiny-eyed on me.”
“Can’t help it.” Loup smiled. “I really do love it. And, Pilar, I don’t care about the flirting because it’s part of who you are.”
Pilar made a face.
“It is!” Loup took her hand, twined their fingers together. “Remember when I used to stop by to pick you up at the bar when your shift ended? I always tried to come in without you noticing, and I’d watch you flirt with all your regulars. You were always having fun, but I liked it because whenever you’d notice I was there, no matter what you were doing, you’d smile at me like I was the best part of your day.”
“Well, you were.”
“Were?”
“Were and are.” Pilar wrapped her arms around Loup’s neck and kissed her. “And you damn well know it, so don’t tease me, Santa Olivia.” She let her go and began undoing the buttons of her shirt. “Know what else would make this outfit more interesting?”
“Ummm… no?”
Her hands glided over Loup’s breasts. “A nice, lacy black bra.”
Loup shivered. “Really?”
“Mm-hmm.” Pilar traced lazy circles. “So you could just see the faintest shadow through the fabric. And all day long I could think about taking it off you.”
“Okay,” Loup agreed, a little breathless.
“But right now…” Pilar slid the unbuttoned shirt from Loup’s shoulders. “I really want to see how you look wearing nothing but that necklace, baby.”
A moment later, Loup asked, “Well?”
She got a very long, very smoldering look in reply. “Pilar Ecchevarria approves.”
NINETEEN
Back in Aberdeen, their lessons finished with more security drills, business protocol, deportment, and elocution.
The latter were painful.
“This is Ms. Coxcombe,” Clive said, introducing a slender, gray-haired woman with a regal bearing.
Pilar suppressed a giggle. Ms. Coxcombe arched one perfectly plucked eyebrow, and Pilar sobered. “Sorry, ma’am.”
“Indeed,” was the frosty reply.
She drilled them relentlessly for an entire day on how to shake hands, how to handle introductions, how to stand, and how to sit. She corrected their grammar and ruthlessly rooted out profanity and an endless string of yeahs, dunnos, and gonnas.
“So?” Clive said at the end of the day. “Is there hope?”
Ms. Coxcombe pursed her lips. “We have a good deal of work to do.”
“My colleague and I are entirely committed to pursuing this venture,” Loup said in a formal tone. “We are grateful for your generous…” She searched for a word.
“Tutelage,” Pilar supplied helpfully. “Ma’am.”
Clive chuckled, then cleared his throat.
“Indeed.” Ms. Coxcombe inclined her head, looking rather like she was biting the inside of her cheek in an effort to hide a glint of amusement. “I’ll return on the morrow, shall I? We’ll address formal dining etiquette.”
“Okay,” Loup agreed cheerfully. “I like anything to do with food.”
Ms. Coxcombe raised one finger.
“Very good, then.” Loup amended her words. “I shall anticipate tomorrow’s lesson with pleasure, as I… um…”
“Revel in indulging in the culinary arts!” Pilar finished triumphantly.
“Yeah, exactly!”
Their new tutor sighed. “Ladies.”
“We’re trying!” Pilar protested.
“Indeed.” She laid a hand on Pilar’s shoulder, her expression softening. “Don’t try quite so hard, child. I’m not trying to change who you are. I’m just trying to give you a veneer of polish.”
“Ok—” Pilar caught herself. “Thank you.”
Ms. Coxcombe smiled. “Well done. Simple and gracious. Remember, you’ll never go amiss with simple and gracious.”
Over the following week, they learned the intricacies of fish forks and finger bowls and received a crash course in arts and culture, all the while suffering the indignity of constant corrections to their speech.
“Manet,” Loup said, identifying a painting on-screen. “No, Monet. Do we really have to know this stuff? I don’t get what it has to do with being a bodyguard.”
A raised finger.
She sighed. “Sorry. Um… I don’t understand the connection between Impressionist paintings and security work.”
“Depending on your clients, you may find yourselves moving in elite circles,” Ms. Coxcombe said mildly. “In a situation that calls for discretion, you very well may be called on to make polite conversation. It helps a great deal to have something to talk about. Two days ago, you hadn’t the faintest idea what an Impressionist artist was. Today, you can identify a number of them by name. Doesn’t that make you feel good?”
“It’s a lot to learn, that’s all.”
“I kinda like the art part,” Pilar offered, then winced. “No kinda, no kinda! Got it. I enjoy learning about art.”
“Well done.”
At the end of a week, Ms. Coxcombe administered their final test. She took them into the city to attend a fundraising dinner for the Aberdeen Art Gallery & Museum, where she was a member of the board. She introduced them as the daughter and friend of a dear friend from Canada, traveling on a scholarship.