Page 22 of Spring Break with a Bodyguard
Teddy:
There’s a place called Beachside Brew three blocks from my building. 2pm?
Javi:
I’ll be there.
I set my phone down, forcing myself to breathe deeply. Whatever happens with Javi, I still have a job to do at The Sandpiper. And I have another complication to deal with—the thefts at the hotel that started right around when I arrived. As the newest employee with the thinnest background story, I’d be the obvious person to blame if someone wanted a scapegoat.
The photo I took of Carmen’s notebook is still on my phone. I pull it up, studying the list of stolen items in the light of day. All from upper floors—the fourth floor especially—and all during housekeeping hours. The pattern is clear enough that I can’t help but feel like someone might be setting up a patsy. And who better than the mysterious new hire with the thin background?
Because that’s what this feels like now—not random thefts that coincidentally started when I arrived, but a deliberate attempt to create a scapegoat.
Someone is stealing valuables and needs a convenient fall person. The new girl would be perfect.
But who? And why?
I spend the next hour creating a makeshift investigation board on my dining room table, writing down everything I know about the thefts, the rooms involved, the staff who had access, and the timeline. Putting my business degree to work, I create a matrix of opportunity and motive, trying to narrow down suspects.
Carmen has access to all floors, but she’s been with the Hollisters for years. What motive would she have? Miguel works primarily on the third floor now, but he has seniority and could easily access other floors without raising suspicions. The other housekeepers—Lisa, Eduardo, Jenn—all have assigned floors but could potentially move between them during shift changes.
And then there’s Roberts himself. As a manager, he has master key access to the entire hotel.
A master key.
By the time I need to get ready for coffee with Javi, I’ve narrowed my suspects down to three possibilities: Roberts, with his master key access and urgent need to find a culprit; Lisa, who works primarily on the fourth floor where most thefts occurred; and Eduardo, who I’ve noticed spending time on floors he’s not assigned to, often during breaks when he should be in the staff room. I’d have added Miguel since he had a master keycard, too, but he’s been with me the last few days and he was nowhere on the fourth floor.
I shower and dress carefully, choosing an outfit that’s neither too casual nor too formal for coffee with... what? My bodyguard? My colleague? The man who kissed me senseless on my couch and then held me like I was something precious as the sun set over Love Beach?
Standing before my closet, I find myself agonizing over choices in a way I haven’t since high school. I want to look good for him—not the polished, Instagram-perfect Teddy Hollister of my old life, but someone more authentic. Someone who reflects who I’m becoming.
I settle on jeans and a simple blue blouse—nicer than Theresa would wear, but not the designer clothes Teddy Hollister usually favors. A middle ground for this middle-ground meeting. The blouse brings out my eyes, and when I look in the mirror, I find myself hoping Javi will notice.
This is ridiculous. I’m acting like a teenager with a crush, not a grown woman meeting her security detail. But there’s something about Javi that strips away all my practiced sophistication, leaving me refreshingly, terrifyingly vulnerable.
Beachside Brew is busy when I arrive, tourists and locals alike seeking caffeine and air conditioning on this warm spring day. I spot Javi, sitting at a corner table with his back to the wall, sight lines to both exits. Once a SEAL, always a SEAL, I suppose.
He sees me at the same moment, and the way his expression changes—a subtle softening around his eyes that might be imperceptible to anyone who hasn’t been studying his face as closely as I have this past week—sends a flutter through my chest.
He stands as I approach, and there’s an awkward moment where neither of us quite knows how to greet the other. A handshake seems too formal after last night, but a kiss would be too familiar for this public setting. We settle for an awkward half-hug that satisfies neither option.
“I ordered you a latte,” he says as we sit. “Miguel mentioned it was your usual from the break room.”
The fact that he’s noticed such a detail, that he’s paid attention to my preferences, brings a warmth to my chest that I try to ignore. “Thank you. That’s perfect.”
An uncomfortable silence falls between us, the weight of last night’s kiss hanging in the air. Then, we both speak at once.
“About last night?—”
“I’ve been thinking?—”
We stop, share a small smile, and Javi gestures for me to continue.
I take a deep breath. “About last night. I want to apologize if I put you in an awkward position. You were just doing your job, helping me with the muscle patches, and I... I crossed a line.”
Javi’s expression is unreadable, his dark eyes studying me intently. “You didn’t cross it alone, Teddy. I was a willing participant.”
“Still,” I persist, “you’re supposed to be protecting me, not... whatever happened on my couch.”
