Page 21 of Passenger Princess

“I’m good. I think I know all I need to know about you, and I don’t think you need to know anything about me in order to do your job.”

I roll my eyes and reposition myself in my seat, staring out the windshield away from him. “God, who hurt you?” I say under my breath.

“What?”

“Clearly, some woman hurt you, and you’re taking it out on me. Did she like to do her nails and wear makeup? Was she a girly girl who broke your heart or something?”

“No.”

I cross my arms on my chest and shift to glare at him.

“Then why do you hate me so much? What did I do to deserve this overarching generalization that I must be the worst, most irritating person on the planet? I know this isn’t the most exciting assignment, but I promise I’m not trying to make your summer a living hell. I’m notactuallythe worst person on earth.”

He shakes his head, his eyes locked out the windshield, but I can still see his thick, dark brows furrowing. “I don’t… I don’t hate you, Ava. I just don’t know how I’m supposed to act around you, okay? I’m trying to be… professional.”

“Well, I don’t think beingprofessionalis being a dick from day one, but what do I know about bodyguarding? I’m just a…what did you say? A self-centered pageant queen?" I say, quoting his earlier words about me, and he shakes his head gently.

“I shouldn't have said that. It wasn't nice, and now I know it's nottrue. You just...you get me all kinds of scrambled. My normal assignments pretend I’m not there. I’m used to blending in and being with my own thoughts. And then there’s you.”

“Then there’s me….” I start and then smile. “And by that, you clearly mean a wildly beautiful, distractingly witty, and unbearably interesting woman you want to be best friends with?”

“Well, let’s not get too far ahead of ourselves now, Princess,” he says, and a small smile tips his lips.

“A smile! He smiles! Look at that!” I gasp.

“You’ve seen me smile, Ava.”

“Yeah, but mostly only when I pick on you.”

“Is this not you picking on me?”

“No, this is me flirting with you. It’s kind of my specialty.”

“Probably shouldn’t be flirting with your bodyguard,” he says.

I reach over, patting his hand. “Oh, you sweet, sweet boy. You have no idea what kind of summer you’re in for, do you?”

ELEVEN

JAIME

Our next stop is in Stafford at an ice cream shop. Apparently, it was Miss Vermont’s first job and owned by her mother. While we're there, Ava works the counter, scooping ice cream and serving fans. A portion of the proceeds goes to a local cause that Miss Vermont fundraises for.

Ava is smiling and joking the entire time while scooping ice cream terribly. I know ice cream server wasdefinitelynot ever on her apparently long list of previous jobs. But she is great with balancing it all—joking with the customers and serving them—while managing her Miss Americana duties.

I know she said she’d never been in the pageant world, much less the public eye before, something I confirmed when I researched her after getting the assignment, but she’s a natural. It’s like she was made to be watched.

I’ve seen many people trip into the public eye in my years as private security to the stars, and not everyone does it gracefully. Even less do it with minimal issues when it comes to handling the press or answering questions meant to embarrass or catch her in a bad light.

But not Ava.

Eventually, it’s time for a taste test. I watch as everyone orders, with Ava forcing me to get a double scoop of chocolate. I don’t miss how she diligently looks at the menu before she shakes her head with a small smile, declining. She mumbles something I can't hear—I’m standing far enough to stay out of the shot of cameras, something Ava begrudgingly agreed to.

I’ve noticed she does this each time we're out to eat, staring at dessert menus with longing, probably calculating calories or whatever, before shaking her head and getting nothing.

It’s a reminder of why Idon’tlike her and why Ican’tlike her. She’s too obsessed with appearances—how people will see her—if a single scoop of ice cream will somehow transform her slim body into something the cameras will hate.

While everyone eats, she moves away from the group, sitting next to me and my double scoop. I tip the cup her way.

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