Page 102 of South Beach Bodyguards

The question was unexpected and one I didn’t like. I gave a flippant answer. “Because Sexiest Man Alive was already taken that year.”

Olivia stared at me. “Don’t do that. Seriously. Don’t do that.”

I shifted on my stool. She had called me out. No woman ever called me out as easily and vehemently as she did. And she was usually justified in doing so. “Do what?”

“Give me a non-answer. Feed me a bullshit line. If you don’t want to talk about it, I’d rather you just say so than give me the crap that just came out of your mouth. That’s not a conversation, that’s a one-man show.”

Ouch. “Fair enough. There is no hidden meaning or deep desire to be a bodyguard, but here’s the bottom line. I have no education, no money, no discernible talents other than bravery to the point of being stupid, and being a decent marksman. So, bodyguard it is.”

“Is there something else you’d rather do?”

I shrugged. “Not particularly. It’s a good fit for me.”

“Watching Ricardo’s dog is a good fit for you?” Her eyebrows rose.

Damn. She wasn’t pulling any punches. “Aside from that. It doesn’t matter. It’s not like I’m going to go to college or anything. Ask my mother. She suggests it once a week.”

“Does she worry about you?”

“Yes, but she would worry about me if I worked at Publix, which I don’t imagine is a dangerous job. That’s just how she’s wired.” I was all too aware of the fact that Olivia was intelligent and on the verge on an amazing career. This was it for me. I had no grand ambitions because my one dream had been to survive without turning to selling drugs or anything else illegal and I had succeeded in that. That was my pride. I’d already made it because I wasn’t making greenbacks over dead bodies.

“I think that’s nice she worries about you. Your job is dangerous. You have gotten shot. Twice.”

“Yeah. So tell me about chemistry. Why did you choose that?” Time to change the subject. I didn’t know what she wanted me to say. That I wanted to be a doctor or president? That I’d had a dream that had gone unfulfilled because life was harsh? It pissed me off. I wasn’t one of her college buddies. That wasn’t me and she should know that.

She didn’t speak passionately about chemistry, either. I got the distinct impression she was pursuing it because it was stable and had advancement potential. At one point she even said that.

“I mean, I had to be practical. I can do this, so it makes the most sense.”

I finished off my beer and gave her a look. “We have more in common than you think, then.”

“What do you mean?”

“We’re both practical. What you’re doing is no different from what I’m doing by being a bodyguard.”

For a second she looked confused then she said, “Huh. Maybe not.”

“So, what are you reading?” I asked, because I wanted to change the subject. For some reason, it felt like we had shattered some of the magic between us by talking about reality. I didn’t like that because I liked Olivia. I wanted nothing but hot kisses, sweet smiles, and open eyes from her.

I wanted to skip all of this and go from nothing to everything. I didn’t want to date. I wanted to take care of her, claim her, hold her to me. Let no other man touch her ever again.

The intensity of my emotions shocked the hell out of me. This was dangerous territory. More dangerous than any bullet from Benito’s bullshit bodyguards.

As she spoke, getting enthusiastic about a fantasy novel that under normal circumstances I would like to read, I knew that I could fall in love with Olivia if I let myself. Because she wouldn’t let me be a faker. She would dig and dig until she learned the truth—and the real me.

Part of me wanted that so goddamned much. The other part of me couldn’t imagine anything worse.

Being at my workplace made me nervous. I had been talking too much, really grilling Wester. I could see how he would think me criticizing his job choice was criticizing him, but that wasn’t what I had meant. I was aware of eyes watching us and I wanted to give Wester the right impression. That I was independent yet feminine. Which was a lot to ask about one conversation and I was running at the mouth from nerves.

It was impossible to do this—go from where we had been to pretending this was an actual first date. He had been right about the rules. They couldn’t and didn’t apply to us.

Instead the only impression I seemed to have given him was that I was practical. And maybe a bitch. Because I had pulled no punches when he had blown off my question about why he’d become a bodyguard. But if he wanted this to be anything real, he couldn’t give me the answers he gave to his random hook ups. I had been harsher than I had intended, though.

Everything was better when he asked me about reading. I felt more natural. On sure footing. He was smiling at me. It was an amazing thing to have Wester smile at me, a natural smile, not a flirtatious one. At one point I stopped speaking and asked him, “What?”

He shook his head. “Nothing. I’m just in awe of the fact that you would be sitting here, with me. I really like you, Olivia. I didn’t expect that.”

There was a lump in my throat without warning. “I like you, too.”

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