Page 72 of Falling for the Grumpiest Protector

She peers around the boxes.

"You know you could say hello."

"Hello."

"Much better."

I take the top box from her.

"I had it."

"I know."

She glances at the box in my hands.

"And yet?"

"I was going this way."

"Convenient."

"Very."

Her mouth curves. We carry the boxes into the storage room. It's narrow inside, shelves lining both walls with barely enough room between them for two people carrying anything larger than a toolbox.

Hart sets her boxes on a lower shelf. I put mine above them.

"There are two more outside," she says.

"I'll get them."

"I can help."

"I know."

Her eyes meet mine. There's no challenge in them. Not anymore. Just that quiet warmth that has been there all day.

"Okay."

We both turn toward the doorway at the same time. She moves left. I move left. She laughs softly.

"Martinez."

"Hart."

She moves right. So do I. This time neither of us laughs. Because we're close. And we've been close all day. Just never quite this close.

I step back enough to let her pass.

"Your Highness."

Her eyes narrow, but her smile remains.

"You haven't called me that in a while."

"Missed it?"

"Not even a little."