Royal Cocktail by J. Kenner
Chapter Five
“I guess this is our place,”Skye said, after he’d urged her to blow off studying and head back to the bar.
They were standing just inside The Fix on Sixth, looking in at the large room filled with talking, laughing people gathered near the Austin, Texas, mural or sitting at the long, oak bar that ran along the west wall.
“I guess it is,” he said, surprised by the butterflies in his stomach that had flapped into motion at the thought of him and Skye having their own place. “And it looks like we have a welcoming committee.”
She turned her head to look at him quizzically, and he nodded across the room to the broad-shouldered man in a hoodie. The man’s shadowed eyes narrowed as his head cocked to the side as if in question.
“Oh, that’s Griffin,” Skye told him. “He’s a writer. He … camps out here a lot when he’s not traveling.”
“And he’s staring me down because…?” Leopold hoped she had an answer. That this man had an unrequited, but completely understandable crush on Skye, for example. What he didn’t want to learn was that Griffin had recognized him and was about to post a royal sighting on Twitter.
“He might be … worried about me.”
Leopold frowned. “Because I look like a dangerous psycho?”
Her laugh delighted him. “No. Because he … might have noticed me looking at you last night.” Her cheeks bloomed a delightful shade of pink. “He’s probably checking up on me.”
“Oh.” Leopold nodded. “Well, I can’t fault a friend for that.”
“Do you mind?” She took a single step away from him, and he felt her absence immediately. The reaction was surprising—and entirely pleasant. “He knows … I should be studying. He probably … thinks you’re a bad influence.”
“That’s what my family is always saying,” he admitted. “I’m the original bad boy.”
She bit her lip as she studied him, and it took all his effort not to take a nip himself. “I’m not sure I believe that,” she finally said. “But if you are … that could be fun, too.”
Her blush deepened, and he grinned. Somehow he had a feeling that this girl was not the kind to fall for bad boys, and he had a sudden quick stab of regret for all the times that he’d gone a little wild back home.
“I’ll be right back,” she promised, then squeezed his fingers before crossing the bar, the warmth of her touch lingering with her lavender scent.
He watched her go, surprisingly relieved to have a moment to gather himself. He was undeniably nervous. Him.
It was ridiculous. He met regularly with heads of state and never had butterflies. He was raised to not be nervous. Other people were supposed to be nervous around him. He wasn’t meant to feel this way. And yet there it was, impossible to miss. Sweaty palms. And those butterflies in his stomach that suggested that whatever he was doing with her was the most important thing in the world.
Leopold settled himself at a table and ordered them both Loaded Coronas. Then he leaned back and searched the bar. She was still there, talking with the writer who kept sneaking glances at Leopold from under that hoodie.
He sipped his drink, enjoying the taste of the beer mixed with rum. As he swallowed, he watched Skye, fascinated by her.
He’d never been attracted to a woman at first sight. He could appreciate a woman, of course, but there’d never been this kind of attraction. He tried to tell himself that it wasn’t real. That this was simply a product of him not having dated in a while.
Somehow, he didn’t believe that.
From across the room, Skye caught his eye and waved, then held up two fingers, presumably meaning she’d be back in two minutes. Not a problem. He was content to sip his beer and watch her.
He frowned, feeling eyes on him. Then he turned and saw Jürgen.
The man did his job well, Leopold had to give him that. He’d known the bodyguard had been shadowing them as they walked, and it was to Jürgen’s credit that Leopold was able to completely erase the man from his mind.
He lifted his drink in a subtle toast, and grinned when Jürgen toasted him right back, then tilted his head toward Skye and gave him a small thumbs up.
Leopold rolled his eyes and turned back to the table, but he was more pleased by the approval than he should be.
He glanced at the menu, wondering what kind of appetizers she’d like. When he looked up again, he didn’t see her. A chill shot through his entire body, the fear that she had decided to leave. That her friend had told her that it was a bad idea to go out for drinks with a guy she barely knew, or that she’d found another guy she wanted to be with more.
He felt panic rise, and the Crown Prince of Avelle-am-see did not panic. Except, apparently, he did.
Then he saw her, and the world leveled again. He took a long sip of his drink, finishing off the bottle, and leaned back before signaling for another. This was not good. He barely knew this woman. So why was he letting her get under his skin this way?
The answer became clear when she came back to the table, smiling and laughing.
He was letting her in because he wanted to. Wanted her. Not forever—he knew well enough that couldn’t happen. But for right now, he wanted to be with her. Not sex—at least not necessarily. But her. He didn’t understand why, but she brought a wild joy into his life. The kind that he felt when he was working an equation and making progress, only more intense. And that kind of feeling was to be cherished.
“I love these,” she said as she picked up the Loaded Corona and slid into the seat across from him. From what he could tell, she wasn’t the least bit self-conscious about her speech around him anymore. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He lifted his empty bottle. “I love them too.”
“I’m sorry I disappeared. Griffin’s overly … protective of me.”
“He’s a good friend.”
“It’s more than that. He was in … a fire, and his face is pretty scarred. So he—”
“I understand,” he said gently. “He knows what it’s like to be self-conscious.”
She nodded. “And to be looked at like there’s … something wrong with … you. Like you’re less.”
“Anyone who thinks that about you is an idiot.”
She met his eyes. Held them. “That’s what he says.”
“Then I’ll like your friend just fine.”
She took a long sip of her drink then put it on the table. Then she reached over and took his hand, and it was as if the heavens opened.
He drew in a shaky breath, and met her eyes again, then felt as if he was drowning in those deep, brown pools. And, oh God, that shock of electricity that had cut through him with more intensity than anything he’d ever felt in his life.
She gasped, and he knew she felt it, too, as she held his gaze and said, very simply, “Hey.”
“Hey, yourself.”
For a moment, they just stared. Then, as if on cue, they grinned at each other.
Their stupid lack of words didn’t matter. The touch of their hands said everything.
