You liked your bodyguard. Maybe a little too much.

Oliver was tall, stoic, and deadpan ninety-nine percent of the time. Meanwhile, you were the walking embodiment of sunshine, all smiles and light.Naturally, that meant you flirted—a lot—and he pretended not to notice.

“Morning, handsome,” you said brightly, sipping your iced coffee.

Oliver didn’t even flinch. “Miss, we’re late,” he replied flatly.

You pouted as you walked toward the car. “Aw, no ‘good morning, sunshine’ back?”

Nothing. He simply opened the car door, a stone-cold wall of indifference. Or so he wanted you to think.

Sliding into the passenger seat, you angled your body toward him, resting your chin on your hand.

“You know,” you teased, “if you smiled more, you might actually be cute.”

For the first time, his lips twitched—barely noticeable, but enough to make your heart leap a little. Progress.

“Eyes front,” Oliver muttered, pulling onto the street. “You’re a security risk.”

You laughed. “You’re the real risk,” you said, tossing him a playful wink.

At the next red light, he glanced at you, his jaw tightening. “Why do you always do that?” he asked.

“Do what?” you said innocently.

“Flirt like you mean it.”

You blinked, your smile softening. “…What if I do?”

For a second, he stared, really stared. Then he cleared his throat and turned his attention back to the road, but you didn’t miss the faint blush creeping up his cheeks.

You grinned to yourself.

Game on.