Page 57 of The Bodyguard Situation

His footsteps fade down the hallway, and I turn off the water and step out, wrapping myself in a soft towel. The reflection in the mirror shows flushed cheeks and eyes bright with desire, longing, and uncertainty. I stare at myself for a long moment, acknowledging the truth I’ve avoided for years—Brody Calloway has always been the man I wanted. But after yesterday and everything that’s happened between us, I realize that fantasies aren’t enough anymore. I want the real him more than ever.

I dress quickly, slipping into soft leggings and an oversize T-shirt, my skin still tingling from my shower.

As I make my way to the back porch, where he is, anticipation dances within me, as I’m unsure of what to expect. Will he tease me or pretend our exchange yesterday never happened?

When we returned to the cabin, both drunk, neither of us discussed it. We fell asleep in each other’s arms, and that was it. Completely platonic.

Stepping outside, I’m met with cool air and the sight of Brody leaning casually against the railing with a steaming mug of coffee in his hand. His gaze shifts toward me, and a slow, knowing smile lifts the corner of his mouth. I try to hide the butterflies that swarm me when our eyes meet.

“Good shower?” he drawls, eyes glinting playfully as he lifts the mug to his perfect lips.

“Would’ve been better with an extra pair of hands,” I say teasingly, surprising myself with my boldness, cheeks burning even hotter.

Brody says nothing, but his gaze locks on to mine, eyes blazing with an inferno simmering beneath his hard exterior. He must’ve heard me.

My breath catches in my throat, heart racing wildly under the intensity of his stare. The air between us buzzes with unspoken words and possibilities, so charged and overwhelming that I have to look away.

I lean against the railing beside him, crossing my arms over my chest, letting our comfortable silence settle.

The forest hums around us, morning sunlight filtering through the trees, painting the wooden porch in soft patches of gold. Brody’s presence beside me makes my heart race faster with every passing second.

Awareness of just how close we are buzzes through me when his tattooed arm brushes against mine.

“Did I just hear your stomach growl?” Brody asks.

I laugh. “Yes. I’m super hungry,” I say, nudging his arm with my elbow to hide the hitch in my voice.

He tilts his head slightly, eyes still locked on mine. “Want pancakes?”

“That would be awesome,” I say, grateful for the shift into something easier.

He raises an eyebrow. “Have you ever made them before?”

“No.” I laugh, shaking my head. “I’m just here to look cute.”

“You’re doing a good job,” he offers.

The sound is music to my ears. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him smile so much, which makes my heart skip.

“You can handle the cooking, and I’ll handle the syrup.”

Brody’s smile widens, his eyes dancing with mischief. “How about I teach you how? We’ll go nice and slow.” His voice carries a touch of intimacy that’s not lost on me.

I smile with a racing pulse. “Careful, Calloway. I can read between the lines.”

“Counting on it,” he says warmly, shooting me a flirty wink as he hooks his finger with mine and leads me into the cabin.

My heart lifts at the simple touch as I follow him inside. I’m grateful for his ability to ease awkwardness and how effortlessly Brody makes me feel wanted and undeniably alive.

Warm sunlight streams through the cabin windows, bathing the kitchen as he pulls ingredients from the pantry. I lean against the counter, watching him. The grace of his movements and how comfortable he is around me makes me smile.

“Come here,” he says, glancing over his shoulder at me, wearing a playful smirk.

I raise my brows. “I’m only here for moral support.”

Brody sets down a bowl, and I look at all the ingredients on the counter—baking powder, flour, eggs, salt, milk, vanilla, oil, and sugar.

“Teach me your ways, pancake king.”

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