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

Monday morning, I wake before the sun as usual, fitting in my normal workout, coffee, and a protein shake before I head to the Five Star offices in downtown Evergreen Park.

I live my life incredibly regimented, something I maintain even while on the road with assignments. Growing up in a family of chaos and unpredictability, creating a routine was the one thing I could count on. With age, the need for control and order has not changed. If anything, it’s gotten stronger.

I use my mornings and near-meditative routine to clear my mind and prepare for whatever the day may bring.

Unfortunately, much to my irritation, all my mind can think about is the tiny blonde out celebrating her birthday with a tiara as big as her entire face at AfterDark on Saturday.

It’s unexpected.

It’s inconvenient.

But it’s also the only thing I’ve been able to concentrate on since. Two whole days and a total stranger has taken up residence in my mind. The way she walked up to me, all sass and confidence, with not a care in the world. The way she wouldn’t back down, the triumphant grin on her lips when Stella confirmed she wasn’t some random weird fan.

The way she looked over her shoulder while walking up the stairs, her big blue eyes shining as she winked and wiggled her fingers at me, the way she patted my chest and called me “big guy” when she left.

And most damning of all, the way I watched her ass sashay away in that tight, short bubblegum pink dress until she was out of sight and the way I regretted not getting her number.

If I can’t shake her from my mind by the end of the day, maybe I’ll figure out her social media and contact her. Even though she seemed to know Stella and the guys, there’s no way in hell I’m giving them any ammunition to be assholes and bother me about it until the day I die.

But I’m hoping it won’t even be necessary since today I’ll get the details for my new assignment, which is the exact thing I need to distract me from the princess.

Four months ago, my former boss and mentor, Hank, sold the private bodyguard company he had formed forty years prior to a larger security firm. Nothing about my job changed except for I no longer reported to Hank. I’ve had the same assignment for nearly eight years, working as the head of security of Atlas Oaks, and I was still on that assignment while the company changed hands.

The band is working on their next album and laying low for the most part, so I’m being reassigned to a new temporary position. This isn’t the first time this has happened. During past reassignments, I’ve protected senators and dignitaries, higher-stakes jobs to keep my skills sharp. Hank always made sure to give me something interesting when I had a break, for which I was thankful. But now that he has sold the company, I have no clue who they will assign me to.

Hank took me under his wing when I was just eighteen and fresh out of high school, helping me to get the certifications needed for the job and training me personally. Since then, he’s been my mentor and closest friend; even though I don’t work for him, I still talk to him at least once a week.

Walking into the Five Star building, I tip my chin to Donna, the executive assistant, before shifting my bag over my shoulder as I walk.

“Hey, Jaime. Greg wants you in his office when you get settled,” she says with a smile.

“Got it,” I reply, moving in that direction, tightening my jaw, and taking a deep breath to try and clear my mind.

Unfortunately, Greg, the new owner of Five Star, and I don’t necessarily get along, so it’s made my life more difficult. But at thirty-five, I’ve only got three more years before my retirement sets in and I can retire and live in the small cabin I bought in a secluded part of Pennsylvania, living a life of peace, quiet, and solitude.

When Hank owned the business, he made sure all of the bodyguards had the option to retire after working with the business for twenty years with a full benefits package and a pension, a condition put in place to ensure loyalty to the firm as well as making sure everyone working for Five Star was in top physical shape. He didn’t want anyone hanging onto a job their body could no longer fulfill just to keep the lights on.

Just three more years, I remind myself as I push open the door to Greg’s office, not bothering to knock. I’ve been doing a countdown of sorts for the past two years since the business sold. Only have to deal with this bullshit for five years, and I can retire. Four years, and I can retire.

Now I’m down to three.

“Hey Wilde, how’s it going?” Greg asks with a wide, fake smile, gesturing for me to sit in the chair in front of his desk.

“Not too bad, not too bad,” I say, rubbing a hand on my neck. “How are things with you?”

I’ve never been good at small talk, always feeling awkward and uncomfortable. It’s fake, useless, and a waste of time, but Greg loves it and spends the next five minutes telling me about the boat he just bought and his golf score.

“Hear everything went smooth at the club with Atlas Oaks—anything to report?” he asks, finally moving on to work conversation.

I also hate the way he expects me to give him lengthy reports on my every move when all I did was stand in front of a VIP entrance for five hours, making sure no one bothered the band. Hank never gave a fuck about the minutia, so long as the job got done with no issue, I was free to do it however I wanted with no reports.

“Nothing out of the ordinary. The club was understanding, and accommodating and the band kept it pretty low-key.”

“Good to hear, good to hear. Want to make sure they come back to Five Star when they go back on tour, you know?”

I give him a strained smile and nod, and he waves a hand at me with a laugh.

“But you’re here for your assignment, correct?”

“Yes, sir,” I say.Text © by N0ve/lDrama.Org.

He lets out another jarring laugh, making me grind my molars together before he nods and pulls out a manila folder, placing it in front of him but not opening it.

“So your assignment is a short-term one until Atlas Oaks goes back on tour,” my boss says.

“Perfect,” I say, leaning back and crossing my arms on my chest. “What are we looking at? Guarding a senator? Some undercover shit? A dignitary?” Short-term assignments used to be some of my favorites. Hank had so many connections, there was always someone looking for bodyguards for anywhere from one day to a few months.

Unfortunately, since Greg has taken over, I’ve gotten nothing but people with too much money and self-importance hiring a bodyguard just to feel special. There is nothing more tortuous in this world than having to follow around some self-absorbed asshole who expects you to spend every waking moment kissing their ass. I’m tired of watching over some CEO’s rich wife while she spends hours shopping, primping, or going to a salon.

When Greg laughs a bit, his face shifting to a look almost apologetic in nature, I know I’m not going to love this assignment.

“Not quite,” he says. “Look, I know you were hoping to get something dangerous and exciting, but it is what it is,” he says, and suddenly, I’m not nearly as optimistic as I was when I woke up this morning, and I wasn’t exactly what one would call hopeful. “As a business, we go where the money is, not the excitement. Besides, those kinds of jobs don’t pay nearly as much as the ones you’ve been taking.”

Another thing I can’t stand about Greg is his hyperfocus on money rather than the business of keeping people safe.

“This contract is incredibly important to the firm, and you’re the only one with all the required certifications for every state.” My brows come together, trying to pinpoint what that could mean. “They’ve agreed to work with us on a trial basis. After this trial assignment, if everything goes well, we’ll settle on a more long-term deal, ensuring all of their security needs are met by us for the next five years.” Suddenly, the happy and carefree look is gone from Greg’s face, and he leans forward, putting his forearms on the desk and glaring at me.

“What I’m saying is I really need this contract to go well. I know you’re up for retirement, and it would be a shame if we lose work and have to let any men go.”

The threat rings clear between us, deafening like a shot fired.

Do well on this assignment, or all the time you’ve invested in this company will be for nothing, and you’ll lose everything you’ve been working for.

“Of course, sir. Whatever you need, I’ve got it,” I say with a nod. “You’ve chosen the right man for the job.” Suddenly, the fierce look is gone, replaced by a smile again.

“Great to hear. It’s a three-month contract, and it’s imperative we do well. This contact has connections with presidents, Jaime. Presidents, CEOs, and celebrities—that’s what they pump out. We nail this, and Five Star is set for life. We need this contract to go well.”

My shoulders straighten, and I force myself to jump into focus, to sway from the all-consuming dread swirling around me and move to reality, to focus on the here and now.

“Let’s back up for a second. What are we talking about? What kind of company has that kind of reach and no security in-house?”

He smiles wide, and somehow, I know I’m not going to like the answer.

“The Miss Americana Pageant.”