Recklessly Royal(9)

“Him or Margie.” I sipped from my cup and tried to ignore how close he was standing next to me.

“Margie?” He looked down at me with his dark eyes and I understood why I had drunkenly asked him to undress. The man was gorgeous.

“Uh, the cook.” I took another sip of my drink and forced myself to stop contemplating how the angle of his cheeks highlighted his eyes.

“The cook.” He sighed and leaned against the counter. “How many people work here?”

“Not many.” I shrugged. “Maybe ten? Too many people make Sam uncomfortable.”

“Ten.” He shook his head. “That seems like ‘many’ to me.”

“Think of it like a resort. They’re just here to keep things going and to make sure you have what you need.” I didn’t point out that there was twice that many at D’Lynsal, and ten times that many who worked in the palace.

He shifted his shoulders and frowned into his cup. He looked so uncomfortable I felt a twinge of sympathy for him. It was hard to leave your normal life behind and do anything different. And he was here because Sam trusted him with her home and the Future Bird Trust, which had become her baby over the last year.

“You know, it’s not so bad.” I smiled at him. ”You’ll be so busy with the FBT you’ll hardly notice anything else, but you won’t have to worry about washing your clothes or cooking dinner.”

“It doesn’t sound that bad when you put it that way.” Something warm filled his eyes when he looked down at me. “You know, you don’t really seem like a princess.”

“Wow. You’re really bad at compliments, you know that?” I laughed. “Besides, how many princesses do you know?”

“Well, not many.” He chuckled. “You, and I guess Sam will be one soon.”

“Exactly.” I shook my head. “Speaking of the morning grump, she should be up soon.” I looked down at my watch. We had a lot to accomplish and very little time to do it in.

“I’m up. There better be more coffee.” Sam shuffled into the kitchen, her eyes half lidded. “And if you call me Princess, I will throat-punch you.”

In fear for my life, I turned to open the cupboard to get a cup for her and face-planted into David’s chest. My coffee splashed onto his shirt and I cringed.

“Yow.” He grunted and pulled at his shirt.

“Sorry!” I spun and set my cup down and picked up a rag from the counter. I rubbed at his shirt in an attempt to soak up some of the hot liquid. “Sorry. So sorry!”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay! Are you burned?” Without thinking I lifted his shirt to make sure he didn’t have any blisters. As soon as I exposed his skin I gulped. Despite a red mark, his tanned chest and stomach looked perfect. Too perfect. Perfect enough to make me consider suggesting taking the shirt off all the way. You know, so I could rinse it, not just because I suddenly wanted to watch him walk around half naked.

Okay, I could be honest with myself and admit that I liked what I was seeing. Hadn’t I already decided I wanted to see him naked last night? Of course, I had been drunk. Heat rushed over my body and I froze, my fingers still on his skin. I may have had too much to drink last night, but I wasn’t drunk right now.

“I’m fine.” His voice rumbled out of his chest under my touch. His hand caught my wrist with gentle fingers and I looked up into his warm eyes. He smiled at me, even though I had just dumped steaming liquid on him.

“Um, I suppose you want to take care of this yourself.” I handed him the rag and turned around to hide my pink cheeks. I had just rubbed all over his chest like some kind of hormonal idiot. I looked for my coffee but it was gone and I scanned the room. Sam’s wide eyes watched me over the rim of my cup as she sipped the leftover contents.

“You were taking too long and blocking my way to the pot.” She shrugged, but her eyes were amused. Which was very wrong considering that she had just woken up and had only a little coffee. I must have looked like a real idiot.

“Whatever keeps you from killing everyone with your grumpy face.” I shrugged and walked over to the sink. When had I become so incredibly clumsy? And since when did I rub all over men in Sam’s kitchen? What was wrong with me?

“We’re going to need more coffee if we’re avoiding death glares.” Sam scooted between us and filled a new mug with coffee. “We’ve got a lot to do.”

“I’m going to change.” David jerked his head toward the door. “Do you have a little time to talk before you go?”