Butting Heads with the Bodyguard (Lone Star Security #12)

Chapter One

Luna

“Luna Darling, your latest book is at the top of the charts. Readers are dying to know what makes the perfect book boyfriend?”

“Romance novels have moved beyond the perfect man stereotype. Perfect is boring. Real people are more complex. Give me a man who can chop firewood and remember my coffee order,” I said with a laugh.

I felt stiff perched on the edge of the overstuffed chair.

I gripped the coffee cup they had given me to keep my hands from fidgeting.

“So strong but sensitive?”

“And with great forearms.” I gave the audience an exaggerated wink.

A laugh went through the crowd, and I relaxed a fraction.

“I thought it was all about the abs?” the interviewer asked with a smile.

“Abs are great to look at, but forearms tell a story about the person and what they’re capable of. Abs can come from low body fat. Strong forearms come from fixing a sink or, I don’t know, stacking lumber.”

The host laughed. “So rugged too.”

I shrugged, feeling the silk of the unfamiliar blouse they’d put me in slip over my skin.

“I mean, if I’m ordering a man from a catalog, sure.

Rugged and, hell, give him a bit of a beard too.

But it goes beyond the physical.” I let myself get a little lost in the fantasy, like I did when I was writing.

“He needs to show up. Know when to just listen, when to problem solve, and when to pin you against the wall and make you forget your own name.”

The audience erupted in hoots.

The host fanned herself dramatically. “I think half the viewers just fainted.”

Since the audience was eating it up, I kept going like my agent had taught me.

“Good, let’s raise the bar for real men by making fictional men as an example.

The bare minimum isn’t good enough. Just because he texts back and wears deodorant doesn’t make him a ten out of ten.

Get yourself a book boyfriend until a real man shows up who can tick all the same boxes. ”

Another enthusiastic response from the crowd, and I breathed a sigh of relief. The host thanked me, but I blanked it out, staring into the camera until they cut to a commercial.

I shook the host’s hand and walked quickly backstage to collect my things. I was used to being an author. I wasn’t used to being an in-demand author. The tours, talk shows, and book signings were becoming more frequent, and it was taking me a while to get comfortable being the center of attention.

My cell was ringing even before I left the building. It was my agent, Anastasia. I didn’t have to look at the screen to know that.

“That is what I am talking about! Killed it.”

I beamed under her praise as I walked back to my apartment. I liked living in whatever city my current work in progress was set, so for the past few months, I’d been living in an apartment just off the Vegas Strip.

It was fun, but I was ready to move on. “I was nervous. Could you tell?”

“Pfft, no way. We’ll make an extrovert out of you yet.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” I said, checking for traffic and jogging across the street. “I need to get some editing done.”

I heard her shuffling papers in the background. “Don’t forget the book tour in Texas. You fly out tomorrow.” She knew when I got focused on a project, I tended to lose track of time, space, personal hygiene, food intake… the list goes on.

We said our goodbyes as I walked into the elevator of my building. I moved often, so the place never really felt like mine, but I was happy to collapse on my couch with my laptop anyway.

******

“You are going to make me so much money!” Anastasia screamed.

I blinked at my phone and pushed myself up to sitting. “Glad I could be of service. Wait, what happened?”

“Were you still sleeping? Luna, you broke the fucking internet. Throw on some pants and grab a latte, we have work to do.”

I wiped the sleep from my eyes and padded to the kitchen to turn on the coffee machine. I’d been editing until after two that morning, and it was only eight now. “Reel it in, Ana. What’s going on?”

“Your pervy little speech about forearms has gone viral!”

I ran a hand through my hair and winced when it caught on a tangle. “Define viral.”

“Everything you said has been set to music, stitched by thirst trap guys and commented on by half of booktok. Your social media accounts have had two million views since the interview. You are every romance reader’s favorite author slash cringe queen.”

“Oh great, I’m sure I was voted most likely to be a cringe queen in high school,” I deadpanned.

Anastasia snorted. “The publisher wants a new series ASAP. Luna Darling, this is your moment in the sun, and we need to keep you there. We’ll do special editions and merch and all sorts of stuff.”

“Wait, I’m still doing edits on my current pain in the ass. I don’t have time for a moment in the sun. I need to be in the dungeon fixing commas.” I glanced toward my coffee machine, which was slowly dripping liquid enthusiasm into the pot.

“Babe, I have faith in you. And, unfortunately, that old saying of striking while the iron is hot totally applies here. You gotta write while the iron is hot, or strike while the plot is hot, or type while the—”

“I get it. I get it.” I ran a hand over my face. This was my dream job, and it was getting more lucrative by the day. I just had to get used to dividing my time between being productive and being the face of my books’ marketing.

“So you on board with that?”

I poured coffee into a mug and settled onto the couch. “Sure, I just need some inspiration.”

Ana laughed. “I might be able to help you with that.”

“Please don’t send me a stripper gram.”

She snorted. “If anyone needs a half-naked man, it’s you, but no.”

I rolled my eyes. I reached for my laptop and woke up the screen, my mind already on the edits that needed to be done.

“Since you are the hot author of the moment, the publisher is assigning you a handler for the tour. Exciting, right?”

“Wait, what the hell is a handler?”

“Okay, so he’s a bodyguard. Don’t worry, though, it’s just a precaution. A few book influencers have gone a little feral over your interview. Some of the events could be crowded and chaotic. He is mostly there just to look intimidating and keep order. I promise.”

“What? Anastasia, I’ve never had an issue with crazy fans before. Are you thinking I’ll have a fan go all Misery on me?” Loved that book, but had no desire to be Paul Sheldon meeting his Annie Wilkes.

“You’ve had some weirdos before. This interview will bump that up a notch. We’re not worried about you being kidnapped or anything. Your guard can keep people from wanting you to sign their tits or whatever.”

I snorted a laugh. “I think he’ll be bored.”

“Don’t worry, the publisher is footing the bill, and the guy is supposed to be the best. Discreet and professional.”

I mulled that over for a moment. This didn’t feel real. Surely, no one was that interested in what I had to say. “I don’t need a babysitter, Ana. I admit I can get a little distracted, but I’m not totally naive.”

“Look, it’s out of my hands. This is an opportunity for you to get new fans, meet them, and get them excited about your next book. We just can’t risk something happening, that’s all.”

“So this is more of a heads-up than a discussion?”

“Well, the guy has already been hired, so yeah.”

I chewed my lip. “I don’t like this.”

She sighed dramatically. Drama was Anastasia’s bread and butter. “Look, you need character inspiration, and the publisher wants you safe. You can just think of the whole thing as a research exercise. Maybe your next main male character can work in private security.”

I perked up. “Okay, I guess I can do that.”

“Don’t scare him off. Don’t make his life harder. Let him do his thing and just observe like the little people watcher you are.”

She hung up before I could ask any more questions.

That was probably for the best. I had to get some edits done, pack for my flight tomorrow, wash my hair, and book a rideshare.

Instead, I opened my social media and started scrolling.

The first video that came up was a close-up view of a man’s forearms while he lifted weights. The caption read:

How did I not notice how sexy forearms were? #lunadarling #forearmsfordays #bookgirls #bookboyfriendturnedreal

I kept scrolling, and it was more of the same.

Anastasia was right. Every thirst-trap account that relied on romance readers for views was showing off his arms or doing some kind of physical labor.

Apparently, I had activated the lumberjacks too, because my feed was full of wood-chopping montages, which I was not at all mad about.

All the romance accounts I followed had tagged me in their videos, agreeing with me, adding to what I had said, and highlighting their favorite fictional men. My follower count was through the roof.

After years of toiling away in front of my laptop until my spine resembled the letter C, I had finally found myself at the top of the pack. I’d have to woman up and stay there, even if it meant playing nice with a professional handler.