I folded my arms over my chest. “What makes you think I don’t?”
“A hunch,” he deadpanned.
God, Ana was a tattletale.
“Lights out is eleven o’clock so you get eight hours of sleep.”
“Eight? In a row, but—”
“Rule five: You will eat regular meals. Not just coffee. I won’t have you passing out on my watch.”
I snorted. “Yourwatchneeds to lighten up.”
“Rule six: You will take breaks.”
I jerked my head up and turned to face him over the center console. “Look, Captain Killjoy, I have a process for how I write.”
“You also have an event schedule to stick to. I have to get you where you need to go. We have no time for sleeping past an alarm or emergency snack stops.”
I clicked my tongue. “You’re serious about this?”
“That’s why they hired me.”
“Well, being a babysitter for grown-ups sounds exhausting.”
“It is with you,” he muttered.
I glared at him, and surprisingly he softened.
“Look, Luna. I’m not here to mess with your creative process or whatever. I’m just here to make sure the rest of the world doesn’t interfere either. My goal is for this whole week to be as boring and run-of-the-mill as possible, but I have bosses to answer to.”
“Fine. I’ll let you do your job, and you let me do mine.”
He nodded.
“Part of mine is learning about the world of bodyguards for my next book, so indulge me. Have you always lived in Texas?” I poised my pen over the page again.
He blew out a breath through his nose but ultimately answered my question. “Mostly. I’ve moved around a lot.”
“Military?”
He shook his head. “Most of the guys who work for Lone Star served, but I didn’t. I had planned on becoming a cop, but things changed.”
“Can I ask why?”
He shrugged. “Halfway through a criminal justice degree, I dropped out. I just didn’t think it was for me. Too many rules, too much paperwork. Military would have been the same.”
“Wannabe cop, who plays by his own rules, equalsbodyguard?” I tapped my pen against my lip.
I liked it.
The corner of his mouth ticked up. “Something like that. I was a bouncer for a while, then a PI before Lone Star hired me.
“But this is Texas. Are you a cowboy too? I’m disappointed to see no hat or boots.”
He actually laughed at that one. “Hat and boots don’t make a cowboy. It’s in how you handle what life throws at you. Steady hand, sharp eye, protective spirit.”
I nodded, scribbling that down. “And here I thought it was about riding horses and cattle drives.”
