Page 124 of South Beach Bodyguards

“Where are you going to school?”

“Miami-Dade, the downtown campus. I chose this neighborhood because it’s reasonably close, yet you know it’s safe around here.”

“Yeah, but I’m going to check your locks just to make sure everything is secure.” I was also going to make sure the movers thought I lived there too because I did not want these guys thinking a woman like Miranda was flying solo. How hard would it be for one of them to come back at two in the morning and break in if they realized she was a single woman and vulnerable? The thought made my blood turn to ice.

“I think they’re decent, but sure, if it will make you feel better.”

“It would. It’s my job, after all.”

Miranda paused in the doorway and glanced back at me. “How did you end up a bodyguard?” she asked. “That’s not what you wanted to do.”

She knew way back when I had wanted to be a teacher. That I had spent a year in community college studying with that goal in mind. “School wasn’t for me,” I lied, because it was the easiest answer. “I do coach a baseball team though. Ten-year-olds. I love it.”

“I can picture you doing that. You’re great with kids.”

My eyebrows rose and I stared at her, waiting for her to realize what she had said.

She frowned. “Well, it’s true. You have caring qualities, that’s why I… want you.”

Her discomfort was adorable and I couldn’t help but tease her. “Want me for what? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Miranda surprised me though. She lifted her chin and said, “I want you to get me pregnant.”

Right as the movers came up with the couch.

I grinned. That impressed me. She was not playing around here.

One shot me a sympathetic look. “First the house, then the baby, eh, amigo?”

“It looks that way. No harm in trying at least.” I gave Miranda a wink before smiling at the mover.

“That’s the best part. Trust me, I have three kids.” The guy didn’t look like he was straining to hold the couch but he did look like he wanted to get his job done. “Where do you want this?” he asked me.

“That’s for the woman of the house to decide.”

She gave me a look that indicated she knew precisely what I was doing.

“Where do you want it, baby?” I asked, keeping my voice neutral. Normally I would have turned that in to a suggestive comment but not now, not with her. She wouldn’t want me to be dirty in front of strangers, and no matter how much I wanted Miranda, I respected her more.

It felt ridiculously natural to call Miranda a term of endearment. I hid it behind a smirk, because I was actually feeling fucked up, confused, and filled with longing. This little domestic scene should be real for Miranda and it wasn’t. This was what I wanted for myself—a home, a family, an ordinary life—but then as I got older, I had crushed my own dreams intentionally. I had focused on keeping life light and fun so that I wouldn’t be tempted to drag an innocent woman into our crazy family. But Miranda already knew what she was getting and it was an intriguing possibility—Miranda as mine.

In just a few days the earth had shifted. Possibilities had opened up. All with her appearance and a request that was anything but simple or small.

I had to play this right.

She was not going to be the one that got away or hell, the one I never got. Not anymore.

“Under the front window, thanks,” she said to the mover.

We had retreated into the house to give them room to maneuver when Miranda shot me a glare. “They’re going to think we’re a couple and that you live here.”

“Hey, you’re the one who asked me to get you pregnant,” I said, mildly.

She did not look amused. “I didn’t realize he was standing there. This isn’t a joke.”

“My point precisely. Look, Miranda, it’s better this way. Adult men should not know you live alone. It’s dangerous.”

We were murmuring in low voices in the kitchen.

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