HOLY SH**T
738 Words
HANNAH'S POV
I'm carrying laundry through the hallway when I nearly crash into a wall of muscle.
"Oh, sorry, I didn't see..." I look up and the words die in my throat.
Holy s**t.
The man standing in front of me is gorgeous. Tall, broad-shouldered, with dark skin and the kind of arms that suggest he could snap a person in half without breaking a sweat. He's wearing all black, an earpiece, and an expression that says he takes his job very seriously.
Security. One of Ocean's men.
And I've never seen him before, which means he's new or I've been incredibly unobservant.
"Excuse me," he says, his voice deep and professional. He steps aside to let me pass.
But I don't move. Can't move. I'm too busy staring like an i***t.
"You're new," I blurt out.
"Started this week. Ezra Blake. Head of personal security."
Head of security. So he's important. And hot. This is excellent news.
"Hannah." I shift the laundry basket to one hip, offering my free hand. "I work here. Housekeeper. Well, more like Lola's friend who also does housekeeping. It's complicated."
He shakes my hand briefly. His palm is calloused, rough. His grip is firm but careful.
"Nice to meet you," he says politely. Then he's already moving past me, heading wherever he was going.
Wait, that's it? That's the whole conversation?
"Hey," I call after him. "Do you always walk around looking like you're about to fight someone?"
He stops. Turns back. Raises one eyebrow. "Part of the job."
"Right, but like... do you ever relax? Smile? Tell jokes?"
"Not while I'm working."
"And when are you not working?"
"Rarely."
He's already turning away again. I should let him go. Should mind my own business and deliver this laundry like a normal person.
But I've never been particularly good at normal.
"So what you're saying is you're married to your job," I say, following him. "That's sad. You should get out more. Have fun. Live a little."
"I live plenty." He doesn't slow down. Just keeps walking with that measured, purposeful stride that suggests military training.
"Walking around with a stick up your ass doesn't count as living."
That makes him stop. He turns to look at me, and there's something in his eyes. Amusement? Annoyance? I can't quite tell.
"Did you just say I have a stick up my ass?"
"I mean, do you not? You're very..." I gesture vaguely at all of him. "Rigid. Serious. No-nonsense. It's very intimidating."
"That's the point."
"Right, but also boring."
"Boring keeps people alive."
"Boring makes people wish they were dead."
Is that almost a smile? I think I see his mouth twitch slightly.
"Don't you have work to do?" he asks.
"Don't you?"
"Yes. Which is why I should go."
"Where are you going?"
"That's classified."
"Ooh, classified. Fancy." I grin. "Let me guess. Checking perimeter? Scanning for threats? Glowering at suspicious bushes?"
"Something like that."
He starts walking again. I follow, because apparently I have no sense of self-preservation.
"You know what I think?" I say. "I think under all that professional security guy exterior, you're actually kind of fun. You're just repressing it."
"I'm not repressing anything."
"That's exactly what someone who's repressing things would say."
This time he definitely almost smiles. I see it. The corner of his mouth twitches before he gets it under control.
Victory.
"You're very persistent," he observes.
"It's one of my best qualities. Also one of my worst, depending who you ask."
"I can see that."
We've reached the security office. He stops at the door, turns to face me fully.
"This is where I work. You should probably go... do whatever it is you were doing."
"Laundry. Very glamorous." I adjust the basket. "But okay, I can take a hint. Sort of. Sometimes. Rarely."
"Goodbye, Hannah."
"Goodbye, Ezra."
He goes inside. The door closes.
I stand there for a moment, grinning like an i***t.
Ezra Blake. Head of personal security. Gorgeous. Professional. Completely uninterested in my flirting.
Which, naturally, makes me more interested.
I head to the laundry room, put away the clean sheets, and spend the entire time thinking about dark eyes and almost-smiles.
Over the next few days, I make it my mission to run into Ezra as often as possible.
Which isn't hard, considering he's basically always around. Security for Ocean means security for the house, which means Ezra is everywhere.
- Writer
