Page 11 of Spring Break with a Bodyguard
“Consider it part of increased security presence,” I reply, keeping my tone light. “Can’t have hazardous waste cluttering the hallways.”
A smile tugs at the corner of her mouth. “Is that what they’re calling empty beer cans these days?”
“Among other things.” I glance down the hallway to where Miguel is dusting the ice machine alcove, tactfully giving us space. “How’s it going so far?”
Teddy pushes a stray strand of hair from her forehead, leaving a smudge of cleaning solution on her skin. Without thinking, I reach out to wipe it away, my thumb grazing her temple. She goes still beneath my touch, her eyes widening. At this proximity, I discover for the first time that her eyes aren’t just blue—they’re flecked with hints of gold around the pupils, giving them a depth I hadn’t observed before.
“Sorry,” I mutter, dropping my hand. “You had something...”
“It’s fine,” she says, her voice softer than before. “And to answer your question, it’s going... surprisingly well, actually. Miguel’s been teaching me all his tricks. Did you know you can use dryer sheets to clean shower doors?”
The simple delight in her voice catches me off guard. This is a woman who could buy and sell the entire hotel without blinking, yet she’s genuinely excited about learning housekeeping hacks.
“I did not know that,” I admit, finding myself strangely charmed by her enthusiasm.
“Life-changing,” she declares with mock seriousness, then glances over her shoulder at the hallway of rooms awaiting her attention. “I should get back to it. Lots more spring break debauchery to clean up.”
I nod, reluctantly stepping back. “I’ll be around if you need anything.”
As she turns to go, I’m struck by the difference between the woman before me now and the one I thought I knew. Her uniform is already wrinkled, there’s a smudge of something on her sleeve, and her practical braid is coming loose—yet somehow, she seems more authentic, more real than I’ve ever seen her before.
“Teddy,” I say impulsively, my voice low enough that only she can hear. She pauses, looking back at me. “You’re doing good work here.”
The smile that spreads across her face is like a sunrise breaking over the ocean—genuine, warm, and unexpectedly beautiful. It hits me right in the chest, leaving me momentarily breathless.
“Thank you, Javi,” she says simply. “That means a lot.”
As I watch her rejoin Miguel, resuming her duties with surprising competence, I’m forced to confront an uncomfortable truth—nothing about this assignment is going the way I expected. Teddy Hollister is proving to be far more complex, far more capable than the spoiled socialite I’d assumed her to be.
And the professional boundaries I’ve maintained throughout my career are growing more tenuous by the day.
I need to get a grip. This is just a three-week assignment—babysitting duty before I can return to my real job protecting Preston.
I’m here to keep Teddy safe while she plays at being a housekeeper, nothing more.
But as I watch her bend to retrieve a fallen towel, the grace in her movement belying the exhaustion I know she must feel, I realize I’m lying to myself. Her disguise may have changed her appearance, but it’s the glimpses of who she really is beneath the surface—determined, adaptable, and resilient—that I find myself increasingly drawn to.
And that realization is more dangerous than any spring break security threat I’ve been assigned to manage.
FIVE
TEDDY
“Please tellme that’s not what I think it is,” I mutter, staring at the suspicious substance splattered across the bathroom wall of room 325.
Miguel peers over my shoulder, his expression a mix of resignation and amusement. “If you think it’s blue margarita mix, then I have good news for you.”
“Thank god,” I breathe, shoulders sagging with relief as Miguel reaches for the industrial-strength cleaner.
Five days into my experiment and deep into spring break madness, and I’ve seen things that can never be unseen. Rooms transformed into makeshift nightclubs complete with disco balls dangling from light fixtures. Bathtubs filled with ice and empty beer bottles. One creative group even constructed a slip-and-slide in the hallway using shower curtains and shampoo.
It’s odd to see it from the other side knowing I’d been party to such shenanigans myself just a year ago, right before Preston cut off my black cards. Back then, I never once considered what the housekeeping staff would have done.
Back then, I simply didn’t care.
And maybe that’s what this is—redemption.
But through it all, I’ve kept going. There’s something grounding about the simple, physical labor—the immediate results of turning chaos into order, the routine of it all.
