Page 13 of Spring Break with a Bodyguard
Miguel straightens up from the bathroom floor, water dripping from his uniform. “The shower handle broke off, sir. The room was flooding when we came in.”
Tyler’s face reddens. “So you just barged in without permission? We had the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign up!”
“Sir,” the manager interjects smoothly, “hotel policy allows staff to enter in case of emergencies, such as water leaks. We’ll be happy to relocate you to another room while we address the damage.”
“This is bullshit,” Tyler seethes, turning his glare on me. “Our stuff is ruined, and it’s your fault for not respecting the sign!”
I feel Javi tense beside me, a subtle shift in his posture that speaks volumes about his readiness to intervene. The protective gesture makes something warm unfurl in my chest. But before he can speak, I step forward.
“Actually, sir,” I say, keeping my voice calm and professional, “checkout time was two hours ago. The ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign doesn’t override that policy. If you needed a late checkout, the front desk would have been happy to accommodate you if possible.”
Tyler’s eyes narrow. “Who the hell are you? The maid police?”
The casual contempt in his voice hits me like a slap. A week ago, I might have been at the same beach club as this guy, moving in the same social circles. Would I have given a second thought to the housekeeping staff then? Would I have dismissed their concerns as easily as he’s dismissing me now?
“I’m just doing my job, sir,” I reply, my voice steady despite the anger bubbling in my chest. “And right now, that job includes helping fix this situation. If you’d like to speak to management about compensation for any damaged items, I’m sure they can assist you.”
Tyler takes a step toward me, his posture aggressive. “Listen, sweetheart?—”
“That’s enough.” Javi’s voice cuts through the tension like a knife, low and dangerous. He moves subtly, positioning himself between me and Tyler. The protective gesture shouldn’t send a thrill through me, but it does—the way his shoulders broaden as he stands at his full height, the controlled power in his stance.
“Mr. Rodman, I suggest you take the offer to relocate while we assess the damage. Unless you’d prefer to discuss the broken fixture with the hotel’s legal team?”
Something in Javi’s tone—or perhaps his imposing presence—gives Tyler pause. He glances around at the busy room, the maintenance crew already pulling up sections of soaked carpet, and seems to deflate.
“Whatever,” he mutters, turning to his friends. “Let’s get our stuff and get out of here.”
As they gather their belongings, complaining loudly, Javi turns to me. “You okay?”
I nod, though my hands are trembling. “Fine. It’s not the first entitled jerk I’ve dealt with this week.” I pause, then add wryly, “Though usually, I’m on the other side of the interaction.”
A flicker of surprise crosses Javi’s face, followed by something that might be respect. “You handled that well.”
“I’ve had a good teacher,” I say, glancing toward Miguel, who’s conferring with maintenance about the damage.
Javi follows my gaze. “Miguel’s one of the best. Been with the Hollister hotels longer than most of the management team.”
“He doesn’t recognize me, does he?” I ask quietly, suddenly anxious. “My disguise?—”
“Is working perfectly,” Javi assures me, his words providing me unexpected relief.
Part of me had worried that the staff was just humoring me, playing along with my charade while laughing behind my back.
“Good,” I say. “I want to do this right. No special treatment, no shortcuts.”
The water continues to drain around our feet, maintenance staff working efficiently to minimize the damage. I should be helping, but for a moment, I’m caught in Javi’s gaze. This close, I can see flecks of amber in his dark eyes, the faint shadow of stubble along his jaw. I find myself wondering how that stubble would feel against my skin, how his strong hands would feel on parts of me that have nothing to do with helping carry heavy linens.
“Why?” he asks suddenly, his voice low. “Why is this so important to you?”
The question catches me off guard—not just because he’s asking, but because he seems genuinely interested in the answer. Not mocking or skeptical, the way Preston and Brogan had been.
“Because...” I start, then hesitate, searching for words that won’t sound trite or rehearsed. “Because I’m tired of being the family disappointment. The poor Hollister who’s only good for social media posts and PR nightmares.”
Javi’s expression softens almost imperceptibly. But before he can respond, the floor manager calls him over to discuss security protocols. He gives me one last searching look before crossing the room.
I watch him go, unable to stop my eyes from following the broad line of his shoulders, the confident stride that speaks of someone comfortable in his own skin.
It’s been a while since I’ve been with a man—about a year—and somehow Javi ticks all my boxes. The way he watches me, not with the typical male gaze I’ve grown accustomed to, but with something deeper—like he’s trying to solve a puzzle. The way he appeared within seconds of trouble brewing, as if he has some sixth sense for when I might need him. The way his entire demeanor shifts when someone threatens even the slightest disrespect toward me.
