Reluctantly Royal(49)

“It’s not always that bad. I mean, it’s not great, but usually he leaves me alone.” I frowned. “Says I remind him of my mom too much.”

“What happened to your mom?”

“She left. When I was little.” I shrugged. “No clue where she is or why she left—though I can guess it was because of my father.”

His jaw tensed and without him saying anything, I knew what he was thinking. That it was deplorable for a parent to leave a child in such a situation. I agreed with him, which was why I didn’t mourn the loss.

“What about . . . what about Marty’s father?” He looked down at the ground. “Do you share custody with him?”

“No.” I guess we were going to air out all of my dirty secrets. “Jared disappeared as soon as I told him I was pregnant.”

“You must have been young.” He watched me with thoughtful eyes. “That would have been hard.”

“I’ve done easier things.”

“You’re a really great mother.” His eyes were sincere.

“Thanks.” I smiled at him. “I try.”

“It shows.”

My heart felt a little lighter with that simple sentence. “I never wanted Marty to want for anything.”

“It would seem like you’ve given him everything that he needs.” He pulled out the chair from the desk and sat down. “He’s a great kid.”

“I think so.” I smiled at him.

We sat there for a minute, just looking at each other, and I couldn’t help but laugh. “Is that an artist thing?”

“What?” His eyebrows furrowed.

“Staring at people.” I shook my head. “You were staring at me.”

“Well, you’re beautiful.” He said the words as if it should be obvious.

I looked away from him and laughed.

“What?” He smiled.

“I’m not even wearing any makeup.” I shook my head. “And yet you saying that made me feel more beautiful than I ever have.”

His smile took on a hint of pride. “Do you remember dancing with me at Alex’s wedding?”

“I do. You looked rather grumpy when you asked me to dance.” It had been one of those pure moments of deliciousness. Something I thought I’d look back on with fondness. The night a prince flirted with me and asked me to dance. That wasn’t something that most people could claim.

“Well, I hate being paraded around.” He shrugged. “That many people get to me.”

“Then why’d you ask me to dance?”

“You were gorgeous that night, but I like you like this just as much.” His eyes watched me closely and I tried to hide my smile.

“Do they teach princes to say things like that when you’re growing up? How to Melt a Woman’s Heart 101?”

“Actually the class is called Panty-Dropping 101.” He raised one eyebrow.

I looked down at my feet. “Nope. They’re still in place. Maybe you need a refresher course.”

“I’ll have to get the ol’ schoolbooks back out.” His eyes twinkled.

We were flirting. I was in a room in his house, my son was playing outside with a princess, and we were flirting.

“You realize that my father kicked you out of his house earlier and now you’re flirting with me.” I shook my head. “I thought you didn’t like drama.”

“Well, I would have flirted with you there, but that option was taken away.” He stood up and held his hand out to me. “C’mon.”

“Where are we going?” I let him take my hand.

“I figured I’d give you the grand tour.” His fingers twined with mine and my heart raced like a schoolgirl’s. “Unless you have something else to do.”

“No, I think my schedule has been cleared for today.”

He walked me through the house, pointing out his family members’ rooms. I tried hard to ignore the fact that his room was directly across from mine. I was the mother of a six-year-old boy. Why was I so nervous to let this man lead me around?

“This is my studio.” He opened the door to a large room full of bright sunlight. “It used to be my mother’s office, but she gave it to me. The lighting in here is perfect.”

“Where does she work now?” I stepped into the room and took in the canvases leaning against the walls, the drop cloths that were speckled with paint, and the pictures that were tacked along the walls.

“In a room downstairs.” He watched me as I walked around the space.

There were tons of half-finished projects around the room, sketches pinned to boards, and photographs taped to a desk. Finished pieces leaned against the wall as if they were trash or forgotten.