Royal Cocktail by J. Kenner

Chapter Fourteen

“A daiquiri?”Skye asked an hour later when she returned from the ladies’ room. “What about another loaded Corona?”

Leo shook his head. “We’ve moved from drinking for pleasure to drinking as part of your instruction. Not that watching you suck on a straw won’t be pleasurable for me...”

Skye rolled her eyes. “You want me to do oral motor exercises?”

“I can think of a lot of things I’d like you to do that are oral.”

Skye had just drawn a sip of daiquiri through the straw, immediately started to laugh, then almost ended up choking. She put her hand up to stop Leo from coming to her side of the table, then shot him a narrow-eyed glance. “Are you flirting, Your Highness?”

“I might be. Now that we’ve cleared the air about girlfriends and fiancés.” He grimaced. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t flirt.”

She bit her lower lip, knowing she should stay silent. But instead she said, “It’s okay. I kind of like it.”

“Kind of?”

“I like it,” she said definitively. “And I know—I know it’s not going … anywhere. I … see the whole big picture. I may not sound like it, but I’m … actually pretty smart.”

“Don’t do that.” His voice had gone hard, and she didn’t have to ask what he meant. But he was wrong. She’d been judged her entire life on how she sounded to people. Most of the time she minded, but in her more lucid moments, she told herself that it gave her an advantage. After all, opposing counsel usually didn’t see her coming.

Not that she had that many judgey encounters in the first place. For the most part, she’d locked herself in an ivory tower, one her father was now trying to drag her from.

For the first time in a long time, she felt a niggle of regret for the choices she’d made. Because every once in a while, she did want to be out there, talking and educating. And while she knew that the kids at the zoo weren’t a good representation of what other attorneys and clients could be like, the experience had been a positive one.

Both the parents and the kids had appreciated what she’d done, and seeing the fascination on the children’s faces as she told them the fun facts reflected on the various plaques around the zoo had been worth whatever discomfort she’d felt talking aloud.

She looked at Leo, only to find him studying her as well. Their eyes met and held, and she felt a familiar shiver cut through her. He’d always affected her that way, from the first moment she’d seen him in this very bar two years ago. It was like they were the quantum particles he studied, with an undeniable attraction between them.

Without breaking his gaze, she wrapped her lips around the straw and drew in a long sip of the daiquiri. The muscle in his jaw tightened, and he pressed his lips together, his knuckles turning white as he clutched the edge of the table.

She sucked harder, feeling flirty and powerful, then pulled her mouth away and slowly licked her lips.

“You’re trying to kill me.”

She laughed. “Should I take another sip?”

He shook his head. “You better not. I don’t want Jürgen to have to take you down for attempted regicide.”

She waved the words away. “Oh, please. You’re not the king yet.”

“Thank God for that.” He shook his head. “Even so, best we don’t get too worked up.” He met her eyes. “Yet.”

“Yet?” Her skin prickled with both anticipation and trepidation. “What do you mean?”

“We came here for a reason, Skye. And more than just sipping frozen drinks through a straw.”

“Oh.” She wrinkled her nose.

“Don’t worry. You’ll survive. And I promise I reward good effort.”

Those butterflies were back in her stomach, but she nodded. “I’m up for … anything.”

He flashed a panty-dropping grin. “I’m very glad to hear that.” Then he lifted his hand, and Tyree, the bar’s founder, came striding toward them holding a clipboard. “You’re about to go announce the drink and appetizer specials,” Leo told her.

“Well, that just killed the mood.” She scowled at him, but he only laughed.

“You’re welcome.”

She rolled her eyes, then laughed, but couldn’t deny that she actually was a little bit sad. The mood had been going exactly where she wanted it to … even though she knew that she shouldn’t want it to go that direction at all.

Tyree had paused at the table next to theirs, but came over now. He wore jeans and a white T-shirt that both contrasted his dark skin and highlighted the military and other tattoos that covered his arms. “You ready, sugar?” he asked, his Cajun accent thick. With his broad shoulders and well-muscled body, he looked like he could be the bar’s bouncer, and a damn good one at that, but he was one of the most gentle men she’d ever meet.

“You sure you want me to do this? This is going to reflect on your place.”

Tyree only laughed and shook his head. “Nice try, sugar. This bar has been through a lot. I don’t think you’re going to be the one who makes it crash and burn around our ears.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” she said, and although she was perfectly serious, Tyree and Leo just chuckled.

She looked around the customers who would be her audience, searching out familiar faces. Unfortunately, most of her friends weren’t there tonight. Griffin and his fiancé, Beverly, had been in earlier, but they seemed to have disappeared. And Jenna and Reese, both co-owners of The Fix, were nowhere to be seen. Hannah wasn’t there either, which meant that the only moral support she had lay with these two men.

Skye grimaced. At least she’d only be making a fool of herself in front of strangers. She took the clipboard from Tyree, drew a deep breath, and climbed up onto the stage. The mic was already set up on a stand, and when she got there, she smiled nervously. Usually, one of the waiters did this on a daily basis, so she knew the drill. She just never expected that she’d be the one doing the announcing.

She cleared her throat, then leaned toward the microphone. “Um ... hi. It’s ... time for you to hear ... the specials.” She looked for and found Leo’s eyes. He was looking back at her, nodding encouragement, but she knew that she sounded like a train wreck.

Her nerves were getting the better of her, and she was having a hell of a time regulating her breathing. She wanted to hate him for doing this to her, but she also knew that she needed it. There was no way she was going to survive presenting at the symposium if she couldn’t even talk about a drink and an appetizer in a bar where nobody was listening that closely and half the folks were buzzed. Some were probably even so drunk that they sounded more slurry than she did.

So, yeah. She could do this thing. And she wanted to, if only to make Leo proud.

Once again, she cleared her throat, then concentrated on breathing and slowing her speech. “Right. So, today’s drink … special is the Jalapeño … Margarita. And if … you want a truly … hot time … try … pairing it with … our Pimento Cheese … Poppers. You’ll love … the kick.”

She was starting to sweat, and she knew that the words had become so slurred that anyone interested was having to concentrate to understand. She met Leo’s eyes, feeling trapped, but he only smiled and nodded encouragement.

Right. She was almost done. She could finish this. Even if she’d have to throw her blouse away after since no way were the sweat stains coming out. “Both are … fifty … percent off. So enjoy.”

“Great pitch, cutie,” someone called from the back. “You already drunk on the things?”

Tears pricked her eyes, and she hurried off the stage, only then realizing that Leo wasn’t at their table anymore. Instead, he had his hand wrapped around the heckler’s collar and had hauled him up out of his chair.

“I’ve got this,” Tyree said, putting a calming hand on Leo’s shoulder. “That’s no way to talk to a lady,” he said to the drunken creep, his voice soft but firm. “I think it’s time for you to leave.”

The man protested, but Skye didn’t catch all of his words. She was already hurrying to the restroom at the back of the bar. And about the time she heard the applause—presumably for Tyree kicking the guy out—she closed the door and locked herself inside.

There was a sharp knock on the door a moment later. “Hey,” Leo said. “It’s me. Can you let me in?”

She almost didn’t, but right then what she craved more than anything was to be in his arms. She pushed away from the sink where she’d been bent over, willing the tears to stop, then unlocked the door. The moment he opened it, she fell into his embrace.

“I’m sorry,” she said when she’d stopped crying. “I got … your shirt all wet.”

“No. I’m the one who’s sorry. I shouldn’t have put you up to that. I didn’t think there would be anyone in the audience who was that much of a prick.”

“It’s not your … fault. I shouldn’t care so much. And you’re … right. He’s the one who’s the … asshole.”

“Of course you should care. I care, too.”

It was such an honest and unexpected response. Most people tried to tell her that she shouldn’t care. That she should learn to just blow it off and push through it. They didn’t understand that would never happen. She would always care. It would always hurt. The trick was learning how to handle the hurt.

Leo got that. Maybe it was because he lived his life in public, but somehow he truly understood. And before she could think about what she was doing, she lifted herself up on her toes, hooked her arms around his neck, and kissed him.