Chapter 3
EDDIE
I woke to the sound of running water and had approximately three seconds of blissful confusion before remembering where I was and who I was.
Not by myself. Not Prince Gregory.
Not in my private dorm at Oxford University.
Not in my four-poster bed in my apartment in London.
No, I was Eddie York, and I was in a narrow university bed in Washington State, and the shower running in the next room belonged to my devastatingly attractive American bodyguard. I wanted to groan with the weight of that realization.
Through the thin walls, the sounds of Bash’s morning routine drifted in.
The shower shut off, followed by the opening and closing of what I assumed was the medicine cabinet, then the electric hum of what had to be a razor.
He was humming a song, and there was something so domestic about it that my stomach did an uncomfortable flip.
This was my life now. Sharing a bathroom with a man who looked like he was in the running for Sexiest Man Alive, listening to him brush his teeth and wondering if he was the type to walk around bare-chested or if that incredible Southern drawl would sound different first thing in the morning.
Not helpful. Not helpful at all.
I lay in bed longer than was strictly necessary, partly because I was still adjusting to the time difference and partly because I was having what could only be described as an existential crisis about my living situation.
When I’d agreed to this arrangement, I’d pictured something much more…
professional, like the rather boring security detail I had back home, all proper and stone-faced.
A bodyguard who was present but invisible, someone who would blend into the background while I experienced authentic university life.
Instead, I had Bash Puller, who was about as far from invisible as it was possible to be.
The bathroom door opened, and his bare feet padded on the hardwood floor as he walked into the living room. There was a brief moment of silence, then the soft sounds of him getting dressed. What did he wear to bed? Did he wear anything to bed?
Professional boundaries, Gregory. The man is here to protect you, not to feature in your inappropriate fantasies.
By the time I finally worked up the courage to venture out of my room, Bash was sitting at the small dining table in our kitchenette with a cup of coffee and some kind of printed document.
He looked up when my door opened, and I was struck again by those warm brown eyes and the way his hair was still slightly damp from his shower.
“Mornin’,” he said, and his voice was indeed different first thing in the morning—rougher, with his accent more pronounced. “Sleep okay?”
“Yes, thank you,” I managed, though in truth, I’d spent most of the night staring at the ceiling and wondering how I was going to survive a year of this. “You’re up early.”
He shrugged, closing his textbook. “Old habits. Military training doesn’t really leave your system.”
Right. Military training. Which meant he was accustomed to efficiency and routine, while even at Oxford, I had struggled with getting up on time and not being late for my classes. The punctuality gene, a trait so revered among my ancestors, had sadly skipped me.
Which brought me to my first crisis of the day. “I’m afraid I haven’t the faintest idea how to get breakfast around here.”
Something flickered in Bash’s expression—not mockery, thankfully, but what might have been understanding. “The dining hall?”
“Yes, well, obviously, but…” I gestured helplessly. “I’m not familiar with American customs, only what I know from Oxford. Which dining hall are we assigned to? Are there specific times? How do we pay? Is there some sort of protocol?”
Bash was quiet for a moment, and I was certain he was cataloguing how sheltered and useless his new roommate was. But when he spoke, his voice was gentle. “They explained all that in the welcome booklet we received. At least, I did and I assumed you did as well.”
I blew out a breath. “I’m sorry to report that must’ve gotten lost in the stack of papers I had to fill out and sign.”
What else had I missed? I’d been so focused on getting here, on getting out of England, that I hadn’t even considered what would happen once I was here.
Oh, I’d devoted far too much time to worrying about Bash’s presence, to be clear.
But I hadn’t spared a thought to navigating university life here.
How different would it be from what I was accustomed to?
“It’s not that complicated,” he said, standing up. “And I’ll wager good money it won’t be so different from what you’re used to in England.”
I chuckled. “The food will be different, for sure. I doubt Americans would appreciate baked beans and grilled tomatoes for breakfast.”
Bash grinned. “I’ll eat anything for breakfast, trust me, but you’re probably right.
It’ll be mushy scrambled eggs made from powder, bacon strips, overcooked sausages, toast, some dry muffins that you’ll need to wash down with copious amounts of coffee and pancakes that will be equally dry, and if you’re lucky, a bagel with cream cheese. ”
“You make it sound so appetizing.”
“In all fairness, it beats the hell out of MREs—the tinned crap we often had to eat while deployed.”
“Ah, yes. You’re a Marine. Not for the faint of heart.”
He nodded, looking pleased with that compliment. “It’s not, but it’s who I am. Who we are as a family. My grandfather, my father, my uncle and me, we’re all Marines. My brother was one too.”
Was. He could mean his brother had served and was now doing something else, but the sadness in his eyes told me a different story. Had his brother passed away? I made a mental note but didn’t comment on it. “You have a vastly different perspective than I do.”
He cocked his head, studying me. “You’re not allowed to serve in the military as a royal?”
My cheeks heated. “I wanted to, but they declared me medically unfit for duty. I grew so quickly as a teenager that I developed serious issues in both knees. I can’t play endurance sports anymore, unfortunately, since I loved running and playing football. Or, soccer, as you would call it.”
“That sucks. What branch would you have served with?”
“The Air Force would’ve been my preference, I think.”
“Do you think you would’ve done well?”
I searched his face to check if he meant anything by that, if it was some underhanded way of casting doubt on my character, but he seemed sincere. “Initially, I probably would’ve hated it. But I think the discipline and routine might’ve been good for me. Did it help you?”
He gave a one-shoulder shrug. “I grew up in a military family, so the discipline and routine were always there, as was the expectation I would follow in my father’s footsteps.”
“You never considered doing anything else?”
“Honestly? No. It was my path, the one life had chosen for me, and I was fine with it.”
This was a much more serious discussion than I had planned this early in the day, though I was grateful for what Bash had shared with me. We’d be spending so much time together that it did seem smart to get to know each other better.
Bash checked his watch. “We’d better head to the dining hall. We have an orientation meeting at nine.”
“We do?” Perhaps that had been in that welcome booklet as well.
He pressed his lips together. “Yes.”
I took a deep breath. Time to enter the real world. “Then let’s head out, shall we?”
“You do have your student ID on you? You’ll need it to pay.”
I patted my pockets, discovered that they were empty, then rushed back to my room to grab it. “I do now.”
A few minutes later, we were walking across campus toward what Bash informed me was the main dining hall. He was wearing a tight, black T-shirt with a black body warmer that neatly covered his gun. I’d known he’d be armed, of course, but it had still been a moment of shock to see it.
But mostly, I was fascinated by the way he moved.
He had his easy, confident stride, and he automatically positioned himself slightly ahead and to my left, his eyes constantly scanning our surroundings.
It was subtle enough that anyone watching would think he was naturally alert, but I recognized the signs of professional protection.
It was also, if I was being completely honest with myself, deadly attractive.
There was something deeply appealing about the quiet competence with which he navigated the campus, the way he seemed to already know which paths were busiest, which buildings housed what departments, where the potential trouble spots might be.
“How do you know so much about the layout already?” I asked as we approached a large brick building with floor-to-ceiling windows and the sound of conversation drifting from within.
“I spent some time here yesterday after I got my student ID,” he said. “Always good to get the lay of the land.”
Of course he had. Where I had wasted time unpacking my ungodly amount of luggage, Bash had already dedicated himself to learning everything he needed to know to keep me safe.
The concept of the dining hall was very similar to the one at Oxford, though the atmosphere was different.
They both had a buffet style, but Oxford was an old university with equally ancient buildings, and this dining hall was much more modern, everything decorated in stark white and silver.
And yes, the food was very different as well.
The line moved quickly enough and I grabbed whatever caught my eye.
Some fruit, a slice of wholewheat toast, two pancakes, two hard boiled eggs, and two strips of bacon.
A bit of a mishmash, but it would do. Bash had already informed me that we could get some groceries if we wanted to make our own breakfast. We had a mini fridge, so there was that.