The Royals Next Door by Karina Halle

Seventeen

The next day I wake up to a knock on the door and Liza barking her head off.

“Liza!” I yell from the bedroom, slipping on my robe over my flimsy camisole before heading out into the living room, where she’s barking furiously at the door.

“Stop losing your little doggy mind,” I say, stepping between her and the door. I shoo her away toward my mother’s room, but she doesn’t budge, stubborn as anything.

I put my hand on the doorknob, knowing I’m going to see either Harrison or Monica, and I’m at that stage now with both of them where I don’t really care if I have crazy bedhead and sleep in my eyes.

Actually, scratch that. I don’t want to look like a total troll if it’s Harrison. Just because we had sex doesn’t mean I’m about to let myself go.

I attempt to smooth down my hair, tighten my robe around me to make sure I don’t have a wayward boob slipping out from my camisole, and then open the door.

My heart leaps in my chest, doing that fluttery thing.

It’s Harrison.

And he’s smiling at me.

“Good morning,” he says, pushing his sunglasses to the top of his head. His eyes take me in, startling in their clarity, and holy hell, I am an absolute fool for this man and I know it. Think he might know it too.

“Good morning to you,” I tell him, leaning against the door. “You’re up early.”

“Part of the job,” he says. “I’m sorry if I woke you up, though.” He glances at his watch on his forearm. “It’s eight a.m. already.”

“You know, normal people wake up at eight a.m.”

“You’re calling yourself normal?” he asks with a sexy smirk, the kind I want to wipe off with my lips. Man, it’s like all the sexual tension since we slept together is only getting worse as the days go on, an itch that desperately needs to be scratched.

But I have a feeling Harrison isn’t here for a secret early-morning booty call, as much as my body is wishing he was.

“Speak for yourself,” I tell him.

“Listen, I’m heading into town today to pick up some things . . . thought maybe you’d like to join me.”

“You don’t even have to ask, you know. Just assume that whatever it is you’re doing, I’m on board. Want me to drive?”

He grins, making my stomach flip. He’s never going to stop having that effect on me, is he? “I have to say, it makes life a little more exciting when you do, love.”

Love? Did he just call me love?

Be still my heart.

I swallow, feeling goofy, giddy, all the good things. “I would have thought you’d want a break from excitement, being a bodyguard and all.”

He looks around him, the calm breeze ruffling the arbutus, the nuthatches chirping from the branches. “Yes, this place is nonstop excitement, isn’t it?”

“Let me get changed,” I tell him, about to head back inside. I pause. “Unless you want to help me?” I ask sweetly, batting my lashes.

He runs his tongue over his teeth, seeming to think. “I better not.”

“You sure about that?”

I flash him a coy smile and then open the door wider, gesturing for him to come inside.

He hesitates, eyeing Liza, who is sitting on the couch, staring at him. Then he cautiously walks inside after me, slips off his shoes. I gently close the door as his eyes flit to my mother’s bedroom, the door closed.

“She’s still sleeping, it’s fine,” I whisper to him, beckoning with my finger for him to follow me into the bedroom.

I close the door behind me, and as I’m turning around, Harrison’s hands go to my waist, holding me there, his lips pressed against mine. I’m back against the door, my mouth opening to his, the slick, hot pass of his tongue making me feel molten inside.

With fumbling fingers I latch on to his suit jacket, gripping the lapels with a quiet sort of desperation, the need inside me spurred on as the kiss deepens and deepens.

“Oh god,” I whisper against his mouth.

How I’ve needed this.

He grins, his hand slipping underneath my robe and camisole, large rough palms sliding up against my skin. An explosion of shivers rolls through me, making my thighs press together.

His hand goes to my bare breast, squeezing gently, his thumb brushing over my nipple until I’m letting out a deep moan. I swear this man has the ability to conjure sounds out of me that are borderline animalistic.

“God, your greedy little sounds,” he murmurs against my mouth, pulling away briefly to stare at me with languid eyes. “You’re nothing but trouble, Piper Evans.”

“Trouble?” I say, already feeling breathless as he starts kissing my jawline, my neck. I grip his jacket tighter, wanting him closer, as insatiable as ever. “How am I trouble?”

“You make me want to do things I’ve only dreamed about,” he says gruffly.

Dear lord.

Feeling emboldened by his words, I reach down and place my hand against his crotch, feeling the large, thick outline of his hard-on. He says I’m trouble, but he’s the one walking around with that weapon in his pants.

But before I have a chance to tell him that, we’re cruelly interrupted by Liza barking.

“Fuck,” I swear as Harrison pulls away, breathing hard. “She better not wake up my mom.”

Face flushed, my heart hammering in my chest, I quickly open the door to see Liza on the other side, sitting down like she’s totally innocent, seeming to smile at me.

Then she barks again.

She’s now an official cock-blocker in my book.

“Liza,” I hiss at her. “Shhhh.”

Bark. Bark.

And now I hear my mother stirring in her bedroom.

“Oh shit,” I swear. I look over my shoulder at Harrison standing behind me and hastily push him back in my bedroom, even though he weighs the same as a boulder. I shut the door on him just as my mom shuffles out of her room.

“What’s Liza barking at?” she says through a yawn.

Bark. Bark.

Barking right at my door.

“She’s just being weird,” I tell her, watching my mom as she makes her way over to the bathroom. Once the door is shut, I fling open the one to the bedroom. To my surprise, Harrison is trying to escape via the window. He’s already removed the screen and is hoisting himself up in an impressive feat of strength.

“She’s in the bathroom,” I whisper. “Just go out the front door.”

He lowers himself to the floor and gives me a sheepish smile. “Always know your exits.” Then he hustles past me, grabbing his shoes, and steps outside, hopping around on one foot while he tries to slide a shoe on.

Just then, my mother steps out of the bathroom and looks over at me right as I’m about to close the door on him.

“Harrison?” she asks, squinting. “You’re over early. I didn’t even hear the door knock.”

I pause. So, so close.

Harrison and I exchange a look like, Okay, be cool, and then I open the door wider.

“Yes, Harrison,” I say to him, stepping back. “Why are you over here so early?”

He clears his throat, his gaze volleying between my mother and me. “Is it early? I had no idea. I, uh, was hoping Piper could accompany me into town.”

My mother stops halfway to the kitchen and narrows her eyes at us, her suspicion piqued. “Oh really? Is that so?”

I gulp. Uh-oh. She’s on to us.

“It’s not because you wanted to come over and try the pie?!” she exclaims happily.

Whew. Saved by the pie.

Harrison gives her a cocky grin. “Well, I suppose there’s no point beating around the bush, now is there?”

“I knew it,” she says, waving him over. “Here, come on in. I’ll make you some coffee, and you can have pie for breakfast.”

I raise my brow at Harrison, expecting him to hurry off or remind my mother that we need to get going or something. But instead he surprises me yet again by saying, “I’d love that.”

Damn this sweet man. That’s twice in a row now that he’s shown compassion and interest in my mother without humoring her.

He steps inside, and luckily her back is already turned, so she doesn’t notice he never had a chance to put on his shoes. He quickly places them on the floor, and as I shut the door behind him, I give his sleeve a quick tug.

“You’re amazing,” I whisper to him.

The corner of his mouth lifts, a warm spark in his eyes as we stare at each other for a moment. I don’t know if he can feel what I’m feeling, but I’m pretty sure I’m just radiating happiness right now, straight from my heart.

The pie actually turns out to be good, and of course Harrison insists that it was all my mother’s doing, as if he didn’t save the whole thing himself yesterday. While the two of them chitchat in the kitchen, I quickly get changed, and then Harrison and I are off.

“You are unbelievable, you know that?” I tell him as the car putters in the driveway, waiting for the gates to slowly open.

“Not sure what you mean,” he says as we drive through. Though James’s SUV is parked in the cul-de-sac, the media hasn’t shown up yet. “But I won’t refute it.”

“You know what I mean,” I tell him, briefly reaching down and squeezing his hand, which is resting on his thigh. My god, it’s taking everything in me not to maul him here in the car, but judging by his body language, that might be totally inappropriate. “The way you are with my mom. It means a lot.”

He glances at me, frowning as his eyes search my face. “This isn’t the first time you’ve said that to me. I have to say, it enrages me to think how the both of you have been treated, if showing any kindness has been an anomaly in your house.” He looks away, gnawing on his lip. “Can’t say I haven’t been through it myself. Growing up, I knew what people thought about me, my siblings, my mum. I was told I was right trash all the time, to my face. When you’re at the fringes of society, when you’re not considered normal, whatever the fuck that really means, it just gives people an excuse to shun you. I won’t ever look the other way with you, Piper. Not with you, not with your mother. You’re both the loveliest people; you’re my kind of people. It’s society that needs to get fucked.”

I don’t hear Harrison swear that often, but the word fuck sounds exceedingly good with that accent.

“No wonder Eddie and Monica trust you with their lives,” I tell him after a moment, slowing down as a deer crosses the road. “They’re the first royals who have pushed back against the monarchy, to embrace being imperfect. I know when Monica made that speech about mental illness last year it meant a lot to people, to have someone from that family actually speak out for once.”

“It also ruffled a lot of feathers,” he says. “But then again, that’s the part of society that needs to go fuck itself.”

“Say fuck again,” I tell him, grinning.

He gives me a wry glance and then slips on his shades, running his tongue over his bottom lip. Damn if I don’t get butterflies again.

It turns out that Harrison needed to go into town to pick up a few books for Monica, which was fine with me since I never pass up a chance to look at books.

“Not that I’m complaining about the outing, but are you sure she can’t just buy books on her Kindle?” I ask him as we step inside the town’s bookstore. I give a polite nod to the owner behind the till. She’s used to me coming in once a month and berating her over the shop’s lack of a romance section, so I can’t blame her for stiffening when she sees me.

“She says she prefers to read paperbacks,” Harrison says, peering over his sunglasses at the new-releases section. “And something about how the house feels empty as it is and she needs to start filling the shelves.”

“She’s probably nesting,” I tell him, before I realize I’m in public and I need to keep my voice down. There’s no doubt the bookstore owner knows who Harrison is, especially since she’s pretending to read a thriller, even though her eyes are constantly ogling him. Thankfully she’s too far out of earshot to have heard me or even know who we’re talking about.

“Anyway,” I say quickly, coming over to Harrison, “what did she ask for?” I lower my voice and lean in. “I hope it’s not anything baby related, because that’s going to tip a lot of people off.”

“She didn’t really say,” he says, pulling out a Stephen King. “She just wanted me to bring back books. Think she’d like this?”

“Well, does she like horror?”

“I don’t think so.”

I sigh. “Come here.”

I walk around the shelf to the other side and gesture to one row of books, my meager victory for the romance industry. “Here. Pick any of these.”

“This is the romance section?” he asks warily.

“Oh come on, don’t lose all the brownie points you’ve recently earned with me. She likes romance; she’s said as much herself. Bring her some of these. Plus, the more they sell here, the more the store will order.”

“Okay,” he says, reaching for one with a bare-chested man on the cover. “Hmmm,” he muses, flipping it over. His lips move as he silently reads the blurb. Finally he says, “It’s supposed to be a moving story about life and love. The cover tells me otherwise.”

I hastily pluck it from his hands, raising my chin. “I’ve read it. It’s about life and love, but also lots of wild sex and even some pegging thrown in there.”

His forehead wrinkles. “Do I dare ask what pegging is?”

I laugh, shaking my head in mock sympathy. “Oh, you poor innocent man. I have so much to corrupt you with.”

“I wouldn’t mind being corrupted,” he says quietly, his voice gruff, eyes glinting with the kind of heat I felt this morning.

“Well, I tried to do that this morning,” I remind him.

“I’m going to blame your dog for that one.”

“Can I help you?”

We both look up to see the store owner smiling expectantly at us.

I gesture to the romance. “Just showing a friend your most awesome romance section.”

“You know, we have some other books that may be more of interest to you,” she says to Harrison in a knowing voice.

“How do you know I didn’t find exactly what I’m looking for?” Harrison says to her, standing his ground. He takes the book from my hand and shows it to her. “A riveting story about loss and love and pegging.”

The owner purses her lips together and backs up slowly while I turn away, choking on my laughter. Oh, she definitely knows what pegging is. Perhaps she’s not as anti-romance as she seems. I file away a mental note for a future podcast theme.

I grab a few more books for Monica from the shelf, still giggling, while Harrison flips through the pages of the pegging book. I have no doubt he’s looking for a sex scene, and I know he’s found one when a hint of pink starts to creep up his cheeks.

He clears his throat and hastily puts the book on top of the stack I’m holding. “I think I see where you get your, uh, voracious appetite from.”

“Are you complaining?” I tease, walking past him.

“Not at all,” he says roughly as he follows me to the till. “Just wish we had more opportunities.”

You and me both.

But the truth is, Harrison and I don’t have a lot of time to be together, and definitely not alone. After we buy the books for Monica, we pick up some groceries, and then we’re heading back to the compound so Harrison can go back to being a bodyguard and I can go back to trying to work on some lesson plans for the fall.

It’s a fruitless effort, though. He says goodbye to me in my driveway, and even though no one is watching, we keep our distance from each other. Then I go to my bedroom, lock my door, and decide to spend the afternoon pretending he’s with me.