Page 23 of Big, Burly Bodyguard

I want to tell him that I wish it was him. I wish he was the one I was going to marry. But the last thing this ex-soldier needs is a runaway princess who might come with an unexpected amount of drama.

So far, there’s nothing to report to my parents. It’s a miracle they let me out of the country without an entourage of servants and guards. But the truth is, most people in America know nothing about Saldania. It is not as if I am a princess of the British crown. That would require all sorts of protection.

While I’m not as famous or burdensome as a more popular princess, I’m still likely not what this man wants or needs in his life.

He pulls all my slimed-up hair on top of my head, then puts a plastic beanie over it.

“I keep thinking someone’s going to knock,” I murmur.

“They won’t,” he says quietly. “And if they do, I’ve got it.”

Of course he does.

His eyes flick to mine in the reflection. Something unreadable passes between us. He pulls off his gloves and rinses his hands, then grabs his phone. “Setting the timer now.”

“I truly hope it won’t look horrible. I’ve always thought I had rather decent hair.”

“More than decent,” he murmurs.

Time stretches. The hum of the hotel air conditioner and the distant sound of traffic outside are our only companions.

He checks his phone. Steps away to make a quick call. I can hear his quiet murmurs as he stands across the hotel room from me. It occurs to me then that he could be married. Or at least in a relationship. And here he is coloring my hair and giving me fantasies about a life I’ll definitely never have.

When he finally steps back, he claps his hands.

“Okay, time to rinse,” he says. He eyes the sink. “I think we’re going to have to move to the shower for this. That sink is too damn tiny.”

I nod and walk over to the shower. I lean my body over as much as I can.

“I’m going to apologize up front,” he says. “I think you might get a little wet.”

“I won’t melt,” I say.

“Handy that this shower head is removable,” he says. “Should make this a little easier.”

He turns the water on, then his hands are back on my head, pulling off the plastic cap. He hands me a towel. “Here, maybe cover your face with this so I don’t drown you.”

I press the terry cloth to my face as the drenching begins. His hands are in my hair, moving the water through my tresses.

“Are you married?” I blurt.

“Uh, no. I’m not married.” More water surrounds my head, then he adds, “Single.”

I don’t speak for the rest of the rinsing.

He hands me another towel. Then uses yet another to start squeezing the water from my hair. Finally, he’s done.

“Be careful when you stand back up,” he says. “You might be a little dizzy from being upside down for so long.”

I stand back up and his arms are there to steady me.

His warm eyes take me in and he winces. It’s then that I realize that the front of my shirt is drenched.

“Fuck. Sorry, I waterboarded you.”

That makes me laugh until I snort. I cover my mouth, horrified. My mother absolutely despises it when I snort-laugh.

He pulls my hand away, shaking his head. “No one is here to police your laugh.”