Page 18 of Heartbeats and Hashtags
“No thanks,” comes the blunt reply.
I suppress a sigh, bracing instead for her driving as the engine roars to life.
We peel out with a lurch, Everly taps her painted nails against the steering wheel. I keep my eyes on the road, ready to be the most annoying backseat driver if I need to be.
The first few minutes were painless if I ignore Everly's awful choice of pop music through the AUX. She sings along easily to some song about the summer, and I watch her. For a moment, I’m able to forget the act I notice her put on. I don’t see the same self-obsession I see on her social media. This is the real her, effortless and uncaring.Free. I smile to myself, hiding it with my hand.
Her red hair shines in the sun, and she looks more beautiful like this than in any of the posed, perfect-lighting photos that I see her pose online. If shereallywants the world to fall in love with her, she should film this moment.I nearly say just as much before catching myself.
“Oops!” Everly shouts, breaking suddenly and nearly crashing into the car in front. I grab the side of the car and suck in a breath. I resist the urge to comment. I’ve learned that won’t go down very well with Everly and will likely earn me a sassy reply. Everly flips her head toward me.
“Don’t be so dramatic! I am a brilliant driver.” She grins, showing off her white teeth.
“Eyes on the road, please,” I commanded. She looks at me for a moment longer before returning her attention to the road. I breathed in and relaxed a little.
“Brilliant driver, maybe in a past life,” I mutter under my breath.
“Do all bodyguards insult their clients?” Everly quips, her voice raising an octave.
“It’s personal security,” I correct, ignoring her question, looking over to find a small smile playing on her pink lips and the sides of her eyes crinkling.No way.She isfuckingmessing with meagain. I bite back a grin of my own.
Before I can stop myself, I toss back, “Watch it, Little Rose.” It slips out instinctively. I brace for Everly’s reaction, pulse kicking up. I shouldn’t be entertaining this flirting.
To my surprise, she tips her head back and laughs brightly.
“So youhavegot a sense of humor, huh?” Everly eyes me with renewed curiosity.
“Eyes on the road, Everly.” She rolls her eyes.
“Or maybe not,” she says to herself.
I rub my neck, chuckling lightly despite myself. I shouldn’t be flirting with a client, however harmless.Never fall for a client,I remind myself of the number one rule. It’s never been a problem for me before, mainly because I wasn’t attracted to any of my previous clients, so it was out of the question. But Everly’s playful banter is awakening parts of me I'd thought long dormant. It stirs a protectiveness within me that feels more than professional duty.Am I attracted to her?I cant be. She’s my client, and we’re total opposites. There isno wayin this world I could ever be attracted Everly Ford, I decide finally.
I readjust my position in the tiny car's passenger seat. We’re driving pretty far out of town and even fifteen minutes in this seat would be too long. Being my size means that sitting in any car is usually a little uncomfortable; they don’t design most vehicles with a 6ft 4, broad guy in mind. But I now realize theycertainlydon’t design uber-eco-friendly, all-electrictinycars with me in mind. Betsy needs an upgrade.
I sensed Everly's lightheartedness dimming as we near our destination, but I don’t pry. Years of assessing clients taught me to interpret mood shifts without awkward commentary. Still, her sudden, serious focus intrigues me.
While unloading boxes, she easily hoisted the largest on her own despite her petite stature. I shouldn't be surprised, given her career.
She swiftly walks toward the entrance of the nondescript building, her red ponytail swaying with every step. I follow closely behind, keeping a watchful eye on our surroundings.
“What is this place?” I ask after watching her warm reunions with the staff inside.
“A youth center.” Everly's gaze grows distant despite her smile. “They were a refuge for me growing up. But funding is always tight, so we’re here to give some donations. The kids love it, and it makes me happy to help out, now that I can.”
I nod, feeling awkward and not knowing how to respond.
A small girl sprints up, throwing herself toward Everly’s legs.
“You came!” the girls squeals. Everly's answering laugh rings out.
A young worker approaches next. “We can't thank you enough for these generous donations, Miss Ford. Especially the makeup kits — our teens will be over the moon.”
“My pleasure, Lisa!” Everly squeezes her shoulder. “I remember how fun having a glam session was at that age. If a little of sparkle helps them feel special, I'm here for it.”
They exchanged a tender look, comrades-in-arms against adversity.
I haul the boxes deeper inside following Everly’s confident lead through the chaotic halls.
