24

AVA POV:

“It’s not safe.”

Bridget drew herself up to her full five feet, nine inches and leveled an icy glare at the dark-haired man glowering right back at her. Ballsy, considering she was the princess and he was the bodyguard, but Rhys Larsen wasn’t Booth. That much was clear in the week since he’d arrived in Hazelburg to take over Booth’s protection duties.

We’d thrown a big going away celebration for Booth at The Crypt and sent quick prayers that Bridget’s new bodyguard would be as cool as Booth.

Prayers not answered.

Rhys was gruff, surly, and arrogant. He drove Bridget mad, which was quite something, since she never lost her temper. In the past seven days, however, I’d seen her on the verge of yelling. I’d been so shocked I almost dropped my camera.

“Fall Fest is an annual tradition,” she said in a regal voice. “I’ve attended every year for the past three years, and I don’t intend to stop now.”

Rhys’s gray eyes flickered. He was a little younger than Booth—maybe early thirties,