Page 18 of Big, Burly Bodyguard

My feet ache in the sensible shoes I’ve been wearing since dawn.

I don’t say anything. I just… look. Okay, maybe I reach out and touch the pair with the cherries.

“Something wrong?” Mitchell asks quietly, already scanning the space around us.

I shake my head too fast. “No. I was just—” I stop myself. Swallow. “Never mind.”

He follows my gaze. I expect a raised brow. For him to clear his throat or remind me of our tight schedule. He does neither, just waits for me to be done.

I nod, and we walk back to his truck. Again, like all of the times before, he helps me up into the vehicle. His firm grip is warm on my hips, a reminder that I’m wearing leggings today and the fabric is thin.

“I’ll be right back,” he says. “Wait here.”

Before I can ask any questions, he’s already jogged back over and re-entered the gas station.

A few minutes later, he comes back out, a small white bag swinging from his hand.

He holds it out to me. “Here.”

Inside are two pairs of flip-flops. I pull out the cherry ones first. They’re completely ridiculous. The dual cherries hang from stems and decorate the entire insole of the foam. Then there’s a pair of plastic cherries stuck to the top of the strap that crosses over the foot.

They’re so cute, and just looking at them makes me smile.

“Thank you. I love them!” My throat tightens. “You didn’t have to⁠—”

“I know,” he says. “But you wanted them.” He starts the truck and pulls back onto the interstate.

I stare at him. “I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t need to.” There’s no judgment in his face. “Every girl needs a pair of flip-flops.”

I pull out the second pair. The flamingos.

He shrugs. “Or two. What can I say, I like flamingos.”

My eyes sting. “Thank you, Mitchell. Truly. That was incredibly thoughtful.”

“Evie, they’re six-dollar flip-flops,” he says.

“Still thoughtful.” I sniff. Wait, did he call me Evie?

I slip off my shoes before I can overthink it and slip on the flamingo flip-flops. The bright pink looks even brighter against the pale skin of my feet.

“I should buy some nail polish so my toes look cute enough for these shoes.”

He nods. “We can get that at the next stop. We can also get some hair dye if you want. I’m not a professional by any stretch of the imagination, but I can read instructions.”

Giddiness bubbles inside me. “Yes! I definitely want to do that!”

I look down at my feet, wiggle my toes. “I would definitely not be allowed to wear these.”

His mouth tilts. “Good thing no one’s here to stop you.”

For a second, the world feels very small. Just the two of us.

The road hums beneath the tires, the Texas sky stretching endlessly ahead. I tuck my feet beneath me, admiring the absurd flamingos as they peek out from my leggings.

“You know,” I say after a moment, “I don’t actually know much about you.”