novelxo Passenger Princess: Chapter 20
“Do you know the address for the next hotel?” Jaime asks when we’re about two hours from our next stop in Tennessee. Our plan once there is to go to the hotel, get ready (in his words, quickly, Ava—none of this fucking around bullshit), and then go to dinner with Miss Tennessee and a few members of the press.
“No.” He sighs, and I smile. “Haven’t you realized I have no idea what is going on on this tour? I’m the talent. I don’t bother myself with petty things like addresses. I barely know what state we’re going to next.”
“We’re going to Tennessee.”
“Yes, I got that, big guy. But I don’t know the name of the hotel, much less the address for it.” Another sigh before he gestures at his phone and then the screen of the SUV.
“It’s on my phone. Can you grab it and then put the address in?” I nod, reaching to the center console and grabbing his phone, lifting it to his face to unlock it before scrolling to his apps. “It’s in my email, should be from Greg at Five Star.”
“Got it,” I say, but then I freeze at a familiar, vibrant-colored app.
A social media app.
“You big liar,” I say with a smile, pushing his shoulder.
“Jesus, Ava, I’m driving.”
Peach, from her spot in his lap, lifts her head and glares at me.
“You’re driving, and you’re a liar!”
“What am I lying about now?”
I lift the phone and show him the screen even though his eyes barely leave the windshield as I do. “You have social media!”
“Ava, no, I—” he starts, but I cut him off.
“What’s your handle so I can follow you?” I ask, tapping the icon because I’m nosy.
“Ava, I don’t—” he starts.
“Oh,” I say, looking at the phone. He stops attempting to stop me, instead sighing. “Oh.”
I say oh, because, when I open the phone, there’s a Jaime0914 username with no followers and…one account he’s following.
Me.
The man follows me.
“Ava—”
“When did you start this account?” I ask, but when he doesn’t answer, I look up at him, seeing a deep red flush and a tight jaw. I think I know why when I navigate to his liked posts, trying to see what he’s liked recently.
My content.
The man only likes my content.
“You got social media,” I say, an accusation of sorts.
He sighs, then nods. “Yeah,” he admits reluctantly.
“Because of me,” I say.
Again, he lets out a deep sigh. “I didn’t get it for my health.”
I let a moment pass before I speak again. “Are you going to admit it yet?” I ask, opening my phone and finding his handle, making sure to follow him.
“Admit what?”
There’s exasperation in his tone as I pick his phone back up, tap on his emails, find the location of the next hotel and type it into the navigation before handing him back his phone and sitting back in my seat with what I’m sure is a smug smile.
“That you’re in love with me.”
A long beat passes, during which I assume he won’t say anything, so I pick my book back up and start to read. But a few long minutes later, under his breath, I hear him.
“You know, Peach, your mom might be cute, but she’s a real pain in the ass.”
And honestly?
I’ll call that one a win.
“So those books…they’re all romance?” he asks an hour or so later once I close my book for a short break, stretching my neck and pulling Peach from him into my lap for some snuggles.
“Yup.”
“What’s your favorite kind?”
“What?”
“There are different kinds, right? Like funny ones, sad ones…”
I put a hand to my chest and gasp. “Are you asking my favorite tropes?”
“I have no clue. Maybe?”
“Well, since you asked.” I turn to him. “I like rom-coms most, romantic comedies. They’re a little funny and goofy, and kind of outrageous, but that’s the fun of them. I love grumpy sunshine, forced proximity, opposites attract.” I pause, then smile. “We fit a lot of my favorite tropes,” I say, thinking about it. “Even big, big man, small, small girl.”
He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath before looking at me. “Do I even want to know what that means?”
“You know, she’s small and short and dainty. He’s a big, tall, muscled man. It’s hot, but I always wonder about the logistics. Just look at you and me. You’re a giant. We’d never be able to do doggy, you know?” I expect him to blush, to stutter, even to groan, the way he does when I say anything like that.
“It would work, trust me,” he says instead, shocking me and causing me to sit there, blinking at him. I don’t miss the tiny tip of his lips.
Silence fills the car as I try and process that bomb he just dropped before he speaks.
“Why only romance?”
“Because I like them and I don’t like other genres as much. I don’t believe in doing things in life just because it’s what other people think you should be doing.”
“Hmm,” he says.
“Plus, who doesn’t love the idea of love? Of falling in love and falling in lust. It’s the most beautiful thing in the world. When you read romance, you get to watch it over and over in different ways—what’s there not to love?”
There’s another pause, and I think that’s it for the conversation before he breaks the silence again.
“But you…you don’t have a man?” he asks, seeming confused.
“Nope.”
“Why not?”
I shrug. “Haven’t found anyone I like enough to spend more than a couple weeks with. Life is too short for that. I’ve seen friends date men who are all kinds of wrong for them just because it was comfortable or he checked just enough boxes to make sense. I don’t want someone who makes sense. I want someone I’m crazy for.” I shrug again, feeling much too under the microscope for comfort. “When I find him, I’ll know, and that will be that. Could be next week, could be in forty years. I’m not putting my life on hold just because I’m waiting for some man.”
Jaime looks at me quickly before returning his eyes to the road. “That’s pretty wise, coming from a self-centered beauty queen, you know?”
There’s a small smile on his lips, and I gape at him before laughing and slapping his arm.
“I can’t believe you actually just told a joke. And that it was kind of funny.”
“It was plenty funny,” he grumbles, and I reach over again to rub his arm.
“All right, all right, big guy. You’re right. It was plenty funny.”
We drive in silence for a bit, the navigation the only sound to be heard, before I get up the courage to break the silence.
“So what about you? Do you date?” I ask, suddenly shy to even ask that, which is so out of my nature. “It sounds like your job is pretty unpredictable, and you’re always on. It must be hard to date or have a relationship.” I look over to catch him shaking his head, eyes stoically on the road.
“This job can’t have distractions.” It sounds like a line he’s told himself many times before, and for a moment, I wonder if he means it.
“Distractions? Like, say, pretty passenger princesses whose ass you can’t stop staring at?” I ask with a smile.
“Exactly.”
“I bet we could be a fun distraction, you know.” It’s my normal MO to flirt just to watch him blush, but I didn’t get the blush this time.
Instead, I just get his honesty.
“Ava, you’re a distraction of the worst variety.”
“Doesn’t sound like too much of a bad thing.”
He finally looks at me for just a moment and gives me a smile, shaking his head, before diverting his attention back to the road.
“I’ve been in this game a long time, Ava. I’ve seen guards come and go, men and women who think this job is easy, think it’s just watching over entitled people and playing cops and robbers. Distractions are what get people hurt.”
That makes sense, even if it makes the tiniest of disappointed rocks settle in my tummy. I ignore it.
“Do you like it?”
“What?”
“What you do. Bodyguarding.”
He hesitates a moment longer than acceptable, indicating the answer isn’t fully yes, but also not fully no. He’s…conflicted.
“It’s a fun job. I get to travel the world and get paid to do so. When I’m assigned to Atlas Oaks, when they’re on tour, I get to hang out with a bunch of guys who have become my friends. That’s pretty awesome.”
“Not a bad gig, I’m learning.” I’m shocked when he smiles again, like he maybe, possibly finds me endearing.
“But…” I say, carrying out the word and waiting for him to fill in the gaps.
He sighs. “But this job isn’t forever.” For a moment, he looks shocked to have said it out loud, like he didn’t mean to admit it. Then he continues, I’m assuming because he’s already halfway there. “My boss—my old boss—he sold the company almost a year ago, and he had some really great benefits that would set in in about three years, which is when I could retire early. The new boss gave me this assignment and implied that if things didn’t go how he wanted, with it ending in securing a contract with the organization, I might not be around to see those benefits.”
My mouth drops open. “Oh, my god, he threatened to kill you!?”
“Jesus, no. Just potentially letting me go, I guess?” Well, that’s less dire, I suppose.
“So this is like…a trial run?”
“I guess that’s what you could call it.”
I cringe, turning to look at him, suddenly apologetic. “And I’m making that harder?”
“I mean…not specifically.”
‘But I’m not making it easier,’ I say, scrunching my face up. He doesn’t answer, so I ask him a new question. “What do you want to do when you retire?”
“Absolutely nothing,” he says with a grin, and it makes me smile, too.
“I don’t think you would do well sitting around for any period of time.”
“Maybe, but I’m willing to give it the old college try.”
That makes me laugh before I sit silently, thinking of Jaime sitting around doing nothing. It would never last. The man is always alert, always busy. He’d die of boredom.
“What about you? What’s next for you after all of this?”
I shrug. “Not sure.”
His brows furrow at my answer. “Not sure?”
“Nope,” I say with a smile.
His frown deepens. “What does that mean?”
“I kind of always just…go with the flow. Life is short, you know? Why spend it doing things you don’t like?”
“Hmm,” he says, but it doesn’t sound like he’s buying it.
“I have always just gone with whatever opportunity falls into my lap. Before the pageant and influencer stuff, I was a bartender. Right now, I’ve got prize money from the pageant that I’m not really spending on anything, and every day I’m getting requests for sponsorships on social media. So we’ll see. Eventually, I’ll fall into something and realize it’s what I want to do forever. Until then, I’m just living my life.”
Time passes as we drive, Jaime contemplating my words before, finally, he speaks.
“You know, for a self-centered princess, you’re pretty damn smart.”
‘And don’t you forget it, big guy,” I say with a smile, picking my book back up.