Page 12 of Big, Burly Bodyguard

I frown. “A shower?”

“Yes.”

“You’ve… taken baths, right?”

“Of course. I am clean.” She wrinkles her nose. “But the method is rather odd. I sit in an enormous tub while ladies’ maids wash my hair and exfoliate me.”

I nearly miss my exit.

“You’re telling me you’ve never had an actual shower?”

“Never alone,” she says. “And never standing up. Our method is strange and antiquated and frankly uncomfortable. I just want to wash myself without an audience.”

I stare at the road, trying to recalibrate reality. Because currently all I can think about is water sluicing down every one of her mouth-watering curves.

Thou shalt not lust after thy own brother’s wife. Isn’t that one of the main commandments? I am so screwed.

“That’s it. When we stop tonight, you’re taking a shower.” I toss that out because I can’t have this woman, but we’re going to be on the road together the next couple of days. And maybe I can just fulfill some of the things on her American bucket list.

Her eyes light up. “Truly?”

“Absolutely. I’ll even show you how the knobs work.”

She laughs, genuine and bright, and something warm settles in my chest.

“What else is on the list?” I ask.

“I want to color my hair,” she says thoughtfully. “Just once. Something different.”

“I can see that.”

“And maybe get a tattoo.”

I raise a brow. “A princess with a tattoo.”

She smiles, mischievous. “Scandalous, I know.” Then I feel her hand on my arm. “You have some. I can see the ink peeking out of your shirt.”

I clear my throat. “Yeah, I have several, actually.”

“Do they hurt?”

“Sure. But it’s not an unbearable pain. Also, it depends on where you get them and how big. What are you thinking you want?”

“A crown on my buttocks.”

I nearly get whiplash looking over at her.

Her lips are folded in and she’s hiding a smile. Then she laughs. “I’m only kidding. That would be dreadful.”

I shake my head, amused and… impressed.

I’d expected entitled. Demanding. Someone used to barking orders and being disappointed when the world didn’t bend fast enough.

Instead, she’s sitting beside me, talking about bare feet and dogs and showers like they’re miracles.

She glances over. “You’re suddenly quiet.”

“I’m just… surprised.”