Passenger Princess: A Grumpy Sunshine Bodyguard Pageant Queen Romance (Evergreen Park Book 1)

This is going to be a miserable fucking summer.

Everything this woman does rubs me in a way that makes me want to simultaneously strangle her and drag her into a room to fuck her until she can’t argue with me anymore.

I have no fucking clue why, with everything she does or says, I feel the need to push back and give her a hard time. It’s like I want her to pull out that sass, to flirt with me and make my dick hard.

When she stopped to talk to that girl, I knew there wasn’t a threat. The group ahead of us was walking so slowly that it was not like we were going to lose them.

But something about her complete disregard for her safety makes me want to argue with her. And then she gave the girl’s father, who had no ring on his finger and wouldn’t stop staring at her tits, her email, and the rage boiled in my veins.

It makes no sense, the way it irritated me, and I should have buried it beneath all my other emotions and kept my mouth shut, but I couldn’t help it. It’s like some kind of gut instinct to fuck with her just to get her riled up. I can see how Ava fired up, ready to prove me, or anyone, for that matter, wrong about her, could quickly become my favorite thing in the world.

The uncomfortable truth is that no matter how annoyed I am by her, I met Ava Bordeaux in a crowded bar and haven’t been able to stop thinking about her since.

But, of course, I can’t have her. I can’t have the gorgeous, curvy blonde who seems to enjoy pushing my buttons because she’s my assignment. Mixing business and pleasure is never a wise decision, and my job is all about weighing the pros and cons of any given action.

Standing in the back of the restaurant, I watch as she sits before looking in each direction with a confused furrow on her brow and then smiling when she finally spots me.

‘Come on, Jaime, there’s a seat right here for you,’ Ava says, tipping her head next to her at the end of the booth, an extra plastic-coated menu in front of the seat.

‘No, I’m good,’ I say, leaning against the wall, arms crossed on my chest, sunglasses tucked into my shirt.

‘Jaime, sit,’ she says. When I shake my head no, she scoots out, giving a one-minute finger to the fucking Governor of New Jersey, then walks over to me. ‘Come on. It won’t kill you; you can get something other than pizza. Salad or a cheesesteak or sausage and peppers or⁠—’

‘I’m not here as a guest, Ava. I’m here to be in the background, to watch your back.’ She fights a smile before putting on a firm face, and I groan internally, seeing the determination in her eyes.

‘You’re my guest.’

‘Appreciate it, really, I do, but my job is to be in the shadows and ensure you’re safe. Nothing more.’

‘You can sit with me like a normal human. You’re not some kind of dirty secret, Jaime.’

‘I have a very clear job description.’

‘To make sure I don’t do anything stupid. If you’re hiding in a corner, you can’t stop me from slandering the company. And I have a conscience. If you’re going to be following me around, you’re going to be part of the crew, not some weird creeper hiding in the background.’

‘Ava—’ I start with a sigh, but she cuts me off.

‘No,’ she says, hands on her hips. She’s cute like this, all bossy and indignant. ‘Come on, sit at the table.’

‘I’m not—’ I start but don’t get the chance to finish because she’s tugging on my hand, dragging me back to the table where I very much do not belong.

‘Hey, guys, this is Jaime, my driver, bodyguard, and chaperone. You’re cool with him eating with us, right?’

Everyone nods, smiles, and continues their conversations like it’s not weird that I’m here.

She looks at me, all smug, before elbowing me in the ribs. ‘See? No big deal. You’re not combusting just because you’re eating dinner with us, and no one is taking it as a sign that I’m unguarded and coming to get me.’

I want to continue to argue. But there’s something about Ava that makes me want to do whatever I have to to get her to smile at me like that. Something about her is enticing; she is the kind of person who is having a good time just being alive and makes you want to have a good time as well. The type of person who won’t have a good time if you’re not having a good time. The kind of person who makes it her mission to ensure you have a good time, too.

I sigh, resigning to the fact that this summer is going to be the strangest assignment I’ve ever been on. This will be a season of firsts, of challenges, and most of all, of her getting under my skin.

‘You’re going to be a pain in my ass this summer, aren’t you?’

‘You say pain in the ass, I say fun.’

After dinner, when everyone starts to leave, we walk out onto the boardwalk. Ava looks at me, looks at the water, and then bites her lip.

‘What is it?’ I ask.

She sighs before rambling. ‘I know you’d rather chew glass than help me—’ Ava starts, and I groan.

‘Jesus, just spit it out.’Material © of NôvelDrama.Org.

‘I need help taking pictures. For my social media.’

I sigh, but considering I was an ass earlier, starting this trip off on the very wrong foot, I sigh and put out my hand. ‘Give it to me. You’ll have to explain exactly how you want me to do it, though,’ I say.

She jumps and claps her hands. ‘Really? You’re the best!’

Instead of handing me her phone, she stands close to me so I can smell her sweet perfume and shows me her screen.

‘Okay, so hit this,’ she says, tapping a button to change the dimensions on the screen. ‘And then hit this to take a photo. But we need angles.’ She lifts the phone up in the air, then center, then down, miming what she wants me to do. ‘Literally, just don’t stop taking pictures until I tell you, okay?’

I nod, and she moves to the railing of the boardwalk before saying, go, and beginning to pose. She shifts over and over for a minute, and I do exactly what she asks of me before she comes over to me, grabbing the phone and checking them. ‘Ugh, you’re a natural. You’ve got the job.’

‘The job?’

‘Of being my official photographer on tour.’ Then she taps the screen again, leans in, and moves her arms out until both of our faces are reflected on the screen. ‘Smile! Day one of the tour!’ She smiles but I stay stoic, confused and utterly uncomfortable in front of a camera, and she laughs after taking a series of photos. ‘We have to work on that,’ she says. ‘You’re like a British guard. I’ve gotta see if I can make you crack.’

‘Good luck with that,’ I mumble.

She steps back and smiles wide at me before gently tapping her hand on my cheek. ‘Oh, big guy, I don’t need luck. Trust me.’

That is exactly what I’m worried about.

‘What’s your handle?’ she asks, tapping at the screen as we start to walk back down the boardwalk toward the parking lot.

‘What?’

‘What’s your handle?’ she asks without looking up, but I look down at her confused, no idea what she’s saying. Eventually, she stops walking and looks up at me. ‘Like for social media?’

‘I don’t have social media.’

‘You don’t have social media!?’ she asks like it’s some kind of great offense.

‘No,’ I say, starting to walk again. ‘No need. It’s a giant time suck, and I don’t need to see people so into themselves and who needs the world to know their every waking thought.’

‘But social media is more than that! It’s amazing. It connects people and inspires and teaches.’

‘I’m sure it does. It’s just not for me.’

‘Wow. You’re like an anomaly. The last person on earth without social media.’ She steps back, taking another picture of me. ‘I’m going to submit this to Guinness. You have to be a world record.’

I snort out a laugh and shake my head, and she gasps, putting a hand to her chest.

‘Oh, my. God. Did I make you laugh on day one too?!’

I roll my eyes at her but don’t bother fighting the smile as she places her hand into the crook of my elbow and walks alongside me.

‘We are going to be great friends, Jaime Wilde.’