“Glinda Tenor,” she says, and I almost laugh. Glinda, the Good Witch. Hmm. She even sort of looks like her … “Mick's old lady.” She crosses her arms over her chest with a crinkle of leather, looking me up and down with an assessing gaze. “Mia said you were cute, but I don't think that does you justice, sugar.”
“Mia?” I ask, my skin chilling at the memory of the woman's fist in my face. “I didn't think she'd say anything nice about me at all. I suppose cute is a compliment.”
Glinda smiles tightly, the tanned skin of her face pulling at the edges of her mouth and eyes. She's like Fauna, young at first sight, but when I look a little closer, I see she has to be at least forty.
“Not from her,” she says, waving her hand like it doesn't matter. I can tell it does. I glance over at Fauna, whose kindness has disappeared completely, leaving her face alien and foreign. I feel like I've never even met the woman, like she didn't lend me her daughter's clothes last night. And all this because they think I'm dating their president? Because I'm in politics? Or just because we're strangers and they don't want me invading their perfect little family? “So, tell me, how did you and Royal meet? Seems like just yesterday he was fucking Mia in one of the dorm rooms with the door cracked.” Glinda laughs, a high throaty sound that probably sends men scrambling to attention. “Oh wait? Maybe that was two weeks ago, wasn't it, Janae?”
I grit my teeth hard as Janae stands up and moves around me into view, her black and silver coffee cup clutched in one hand. Her face looks a little queasy, like she's not comfortable with the direction this conversation is taking. Huh. Interesting. I make a note of that.
“Must've been, since he's spent every waking second of the last week fucking me.” I turn around without waiting for a reply, grabbing my coffee cup in a steady hand and flicking a smile back at the silent women behind me. “If you'll excuse me a moment.”
I step around them and march away down the pavement, pretending like I know exactly where I'm going. I don't. But I also kind of feel like I need to puke. What am I doing here? I don't belong here. Half of me wants to run screaming through the gates … and the other half is hopelessly and inextricably falling in love with Royal McBride.
I clamp my jaw shut tight and practically faint when I see Royal moving down the steps of the deck, hitting the dew drenched pavement and pausing to put his fingers to his lips. When he whistles, the dogs come running, appearing from the cluster of ferns that line the fence. On their way back to Royal, they veer and come straight at me, slapping their paws against the cement, tongues lolling, tails flicking excitedly.
“Would you look at that?” Royal says with one of those gorgeous grins of his, the kind that take up his entire face and make me go weak at the knees. Jesus, I am so screwed. I swallow hard as his dark brown eyes take me in with a raised brow. “Man's best friend, my arse. You've already won them over, haven't you, Pint-Size?”
I smile as I reach down and rub my thumb against Lake's velvety black ear.
“Well, you know, you left me alone in your bed with these guys all day. I may or may not have shared my ice cream with them.” I force the coffee cup to my mouth and take a sip. It really is a good mocha. Better than Starbucks. Way better than Starbucks. I wait as Royal makes his way over to me, hovering close like he wants to touch me, but isn't sure he should. His eyes flick up and over my shoulder, taking in the ocean, the compound … the three old ladies I can hear moving towards us.
When Royal bends down and puts his warm lips against my ear, I almost squeeze the coffee straight out of my cup, fist clenching around the flimsy paper.
“How'd it go?” he whispers as I glance up at him, almost bumping our mouths together in the process. Feeling brave in the after-sex glow I'm still nursing, I curl my fingers around the thick, hard muscles in his shoulder and lean up on my tiptoes.
“Bloody awful,” I whisper and he laughs. “You better kiss me now to make a point.”
With a masculine growl that curls my toes, Royal plants his hands possessively on my hips and pulls me to him, crushing our bodies together as he curls around me, kisses me hard, tongue sliding into my mouth, drawing a moan from my throat that has nothing to do with the show we're supposed to be putting on and everything to do with him.
The sound of a throat clearing pulls Royal back, and he glances irritably over his shoulder.
It's that guy again … Dober. The Vice President. Landon's replacement. The guy my new boyfriend killed's replacement. I shiver a little and wrap my arms around myself. Dober watches the movement, his shaggy brown brows pinching in as he studies me. He doesn't trust me, thinks I've seen too much, know too much.