The Royals Next Door by Karina Halle

Eighteen

“You know, I wouldn’t mind if Mr. Cole came over more often,” my mother says, her voice casual and high pitched for extra innocence.

I glance over at her, my brow raised in surprise.

We’re sitting on the deck sipping iced blueberry tea. It’s only ten in the morning, but it’s a scorcher already. A couple of hot days in a row is pretty rare here, even in July, but it’s been a consistent heat wave all week long.

There’s no way Mom hasn’t caught on, I think to myself.

“Why would he come over?” I ask, trying to sound blasé.

“I don’t know, Piper.” She says this in a way that suggests she very well does know. She takes a satisfied sip of her iced tea. “He’s here to do laundry quite a bit.” Her eyes twinkle at me. “And I know my pie is good, but it’s not that good.”

Don’t fall for it. It’s a trap.

I shrug. “I’m sure their machine will get fixed one of these days. And it is that good. You could open up your own bakery by now.”

It’s been a couple of days since Harrison stopped by the house and then took me into town. I would have loved to have seen him that night, but figuring out how to be with each other without raising suspicion has been a pain in the ass, plus his schedule doesn’t leave a lot of freedom.

Yesterday he came by again, except he wasn’t alone. Monica came with him, apologizing for their taking over our laundry room and to invite us again for dinner on Friday. Harrison then went down below to do more laundry, but with Monica and my mother chatting in the kitchen, it wouldn’t have looked right if I had suddenly left them to go check on the laundry or something.

The dinner is tomorrow. At any rate, I don’t think I’ll be seeing Harrison today, but you never know. My stupid, stupid heart is holding out for the best, even if I berate it for being so hopeful.

“You know,” my mother goes on, “I was wrong about him.”

“What do you mean?”

My mother? Admitting she was wrong? What is this world?

“At first I thought I knew who he was. I had him figured out. I thought I knew his type because I’d seen that type so many times before. You’d bring them home all smitten, and they were the type of boys to make my skin crawl. I’m sure you thought I was being paranoid and judgmental, but I knew none of them were good enough for you, Piper.”

“Yeah,” I say softly, watching the ocean breeze move the branches of pine at the end of the deck. “I should have listened.”

“You didn’t. Because they were your mistakes to make. All I can say is thank god you found out about Joey when you did. I know that it was so tough for you, sweetie, and I know it was embarrassing. But that was worth it, wasn’t it?”

I nod. “It was. And I know I’ve made mistakes. But I also know how to look out for them now. I know my personality. I know I’ve . . .” I don’t want to mention trauma, because it’s trauma she’s helped generate, and I’m not trying to play the blame game, not when we’re finally talking like this. “I’ve been through things that have shaped me, but I also know how to dig deep and get better. And you know why? Because of my therapist. She helped me see why I was doing the things I was, and she gave me the tools to change it.”

I expect my mom to shut down at the mention of therapy, but she only sighs and leans back in her chair. “I really hope you find the right man one day, Piper,” she says. She rolls her head to the side to look at me. “And that’s what Harrison is. He’s a man. He’s not a boy. He’s not here to play games with you. That’s why I like him. He comes from a strong, earnest, kind place. I know that now. I can feel it.”

I swallow thickly. She’s right. He is a man. Everyone else was just a boy, as fragile and slippery as a leaf in the wind.

“You know we’re not . . . ,” I start. “He’s just a friend.”

“I know,” she says. “I know that’s what you keep saying. I know it’s what you both want to believe. But I’ve seen it on your face from day one, and now I see it on his. Chemistry is hard to fake and even harder to hide. You have it in spades. And even though I’m your mother and the last person you want to confide in, I still know you. That man has your heart. Maybe it’s time you admit it, if not to me, to yourself. And to him.”

No. No way. My heart . . . what even is my heart? It’s been this beating, aching creature in my chest, hiding behind my ribs, afraid to bare itself lest I get hurt again. I’ve kept it tucked away, having no reason to let it free. And yet with Harrison, it wants to be free. It wants to. And I think, no matter what I do, I’m going to eventually fall in love with him.

But what good is that when there is no relationship to speak of? All we have between us is a stolen moment of passion and kisses few and far between. I don’t even know if he feels the same way I do, and I wish it wasn’t important, but it is.

“I’m fine,” I tell her begrudgingly. “It’s just a crush.”

“Well, whatever you want to call it, I just want you to know that I approve. However you guys make it work, I’m behind you one hundred percent.” She pauses and smiles devilishly. “Besides, the man can bake. That pie was the best I’ve ever had all because of him. He’s a keeper.”

“You just want delicious pastries,” I tell her.

“Don’t you?”

I laugh. The fact that Harrison can bake is a bonus. I’m sure there are a million bonuses about him. And if I’m lucky enough, I’ll get to know them all.

The two of us sit on the deck for a little longer, but the heat is starting to become unbearable.

“I think I’m going to go to the lake and cool off,” I tell my mother as I go inside. “You interested?”

She shakes her head, her eyes closed. I can tell she’s heading in for another nap.

I go to my bedroom and slip on a yellow bikini before pulling on a loose linen dress on top. I grab a towel, place a wide-brimmed hat on my head, slip on my sunglasses and flip-flops, and I’m out the door.

I throw the towel into the back seat and am about to get in the car when I glance up through the trees at the tiny glimpse of the royals’ roof.

Hmmm.

Why do I have to wait around for Harrison? Why can’t I make my own things happen?

I head up through the brush that separates our properties, my legs scratched by the salal bushes and ferns, not even bothering with the driveway, and head across to their front door.

I knock and glance around, expecting the men in the trees to rappel down at any moment and accost me with their polite but gruff British ways. I’ve never come here on my own without being invited, and there are so many massive trees they could be hiding in.

Luckily the door opens before the tree men make an appearance. It’s Agatha, looking surprised.

“Ms. Evans,” she says. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I was heading to town and wondered if you needed anything.” I mean, I’m not really heading to town, but I’m hoping my ploy works.

“Let me ask, just a moment,” she says, closing the door on me. I try not to take offense, knowing it must be protocol.

A few moments later, the door opens again.

Harrison.

“Piper?” he asks.

“Surprise,” I say, throwing my arms out and jutting my hip to the side.

“Agatha said you were going to town?”

He sounds all business, which bothers me a little, even though I know he absolutely has to be all business right now.

“Yeah, I just wondered if you guys needed anything. Or if you needed me to take you somewhere.” I say that last bit a little lower.

His brow cocks up. He gets it.

“Sure,” he says. “I take it you’re driving?”

I nod.

“I bet there are some errands I can run,” he says. “Meet you at your car.”

He closes the door, and I walk back across their driveway, grinning to myself, then doing a little skip.

A flash of movement catches my eye from up above.

The wave of a hand.

From up in a tree.

I can’t see the rest of him, but I smile and wave back. I don’t care if he caught me skipping and looking like a fool. I am what I am.

I head to the car and get in the driver’s seat. It feels like forever until I see Harrison’s shadow, having not heard him approach at all.

“Hi,” he says to me, getting in his seat.

“Hot day,” I tell him.

He buckles in, and I start the car. It purrs like a broken cat.

“It is,” he says. “Guess you wouldn’t believe it if I told you the air conditioning broke.”

I laugh as we pull down the driveway, pause as the gates open. “That whole house is falling apart. Let me guess: Going to be a while before you get a repairman for that over?”

He shrugs. “He said he’d be here tomorrow. Though that’s what the dryer person’s been saying for days, and I’m starting to suspect they’re the same person. Roscoe’s Heating and Cooling and Roscoe’s Repairs, seems like too much of a coincidence.”

I giggle at him. “Don’t forget Roscoe’s Electrical Services. Still haven’t fixed a baseboard heater in my house.”

He lets out a small laugh, and I let the trippy, happy feelings flow through me for a moment before the more awkward ones resurface.

The funny thing is, though, aside from the sexual tension between us, which is very taut and thick and real, I don’t feel that incessant need to blab. The silence is comfortable. Being in his presence both speeds up my heart rate and calms me at the same time. These feelings are a paradox, but I’m grateful for them all the same.

When we drive past the town, though, he turns to me. “Where are we going?”

“Nowhere,” I say, briefly sticking my tongue between my teeth.

He focuses on that for a moment, then looks me in the eye. “Why did I have a feeling?”

“Because I was tired of waiting for you,” I tell him.

His expression falters. “Sorry. It’s not exactly easy to get away. Especially since I came by to do laundry yesterday. There’s only so much.”

“I know, I’m just giving you a hard time.” I wink at him. Innuendo and all that. “Or at least, I hope it’ll be hard.”

His brows raise. “So where are you taking me?”

“A place where we can be alone and escape the heat.”

He chuckles. “That sounds like an oxymoron to me.”

“You’ll see,” I tell him.

I take the Cranberry Road exit heading past the sign to Mount Maxwell Provincial Park. It’s a long and winding drive up past forests and farmlands, more hidden nooks of the island. Harrison’s attention is rapt on the scenery. “There’s so much here that I haven’t seen. And I’ve seen more than Eddie or Monica.”

“Doesn’t that bother them? I mean, I know they came here to escape, but even with that big house, cabin fever has to be getting to them too.”

“I think they’re just so focused on the baby,” Harrison says. “Then again, I’m just going by what I hear. I think Eddie might be getting a little annoyed, but it’s hard for them to go anywhere.”

“We could always go for a hike somewhere,” I tell him. “In fact, we’re about to go for a little one right now. Except if they came, they could get in trouble.”

“In trouble?” he repeats. “Okay, what do you have planned? I don’t trust that expression in your eyes.”

I give him a saucy grin. “Relax. Go with the flow. Island life, remember?”

It’s not long, though, until we’re on the bumpy mountain road, avoiding potholes that threaten to swallow the car whole. To his credit, Harrison doesn’t say anything else, but I can tell he’s wary about this whole thing.

Finally I pull off the road and park at the foot of a hidden driveway, baby birch trees growing along the edges. I get out of the car and grab my towel, then point across the road to where the dust from my car is still lingering in the hot air.

“What?” Harrison asks.

“We’re going in there,” I tell him.

“Into where? Those trees?”

“Mmhmm. It might be time for you to leave your jacket behind. It’s going to get torn up.”

Now he looks panicked. “Where are you taking me?”

“Don’t worry, it’s an easy hike. And anyway, I don’t know how on earth you can wear that suit in this weather. Don’t you have some formal secret agent shorts or something?”

“Not a secret agent. And no, we don’t have shorts. What a ghastly sight that would be.”

I grin and wave him forward. “Come on.”

I cross the road and head into the forest, Harrison following. I point to a tall chain-link fence that ends a few feet away before walking through the brush that skirts around it.

“That fence didn’t use to be here, but the fire department put it up to stop us from using the lake.”

“Wait a minute, you’re taking me to a lake?”

“Where did you think I was taking you?”

“I don’t know,” he says. “Perhaps an old abandoned hunting lodge with a bed in the corner.”

I laugh and look at him over my shoulder. “My god. I have higher standards than that.”

“Do you? You’re taking me on what seems like an illegal excursion to a lake.”

“It’s not illegal. They just tried to, you know, dissuade people. This lake is gorgeous, and for whatever reason they decided they didn’t want people to use it. Someone complained, probably Barbara Mischky, or one of the houses on the lake. They say it’s because it’s a reservoir, but a lot of the other lakes on the island are reservoirs, and you don’t see them fenced off.”

“Uh-huh.”

I look at him again. He’s marching through the undergrowth with ease, branches from the hemlocks tugging at his shirt as he passes by.

It’s about fifteen minutes of bushwhacking before we see the lake.

Just as I suspected, there’s not a soul here, and from where we are, tucked into a small bay, you can’t see the houses at the end of the lake either. It’s just us, the gleaming jewel-green water, the sun-dried moss that covers the slopes of granite and quartz that lead to the shore, the tall, wavering fir and cedar.

“Shit. It’s a beauty,” Harrison says.

I waste no time.

I immediately pull my dress over my head and throw it to the side along with my towel, then scamper down toward the shore in my bikini, kicking off my flip-flops just before I carefully climb onto a couple of rocks that jut out into the water.

“Piper!” Harrison calls, but I ignore him.

I get to the last rock, find my balance on the sun-warmed surface, and then launch myself into the lake.

And by launch, I mean cannonball. Any attempt at diving would result in a belly flop, and besides, I’m like five years old at heart.

The water is cool, shocking me awake as I hit with a big splash, my arms wrapped tightly around my shins. I open my eyes to the bubbles and then kick up to the surface, bursting through to the sun on my face.

I tread water and look over at Harrison, who is on the lakeshore, his hands on his hips, frowning at me. But there’s a smile on his lips too, just as I’m grinning widely at him.

“Come on in, the water is just fine,” I say, splashing around.

He stares at me for a moment, then starts to unbutton his dress shirt.

I am here for this.

I keep treading, my eyes focused on each sliver of skin that’s slowly revealed.

Yes, I’ve had sex with Harrison.

But I never got to enjoy his body the way I would have liked to.

This is my first look, and I am going to look.

He reaches the last button, then removes his shirt.

Damn.

I watch as he folds his shirt neatly and places it on the moss beside him, my eyes drawn to every bare inch of his torso, from the wide expanse of his chest, to his rock-hard shoulders, to his literal six-pack abs, all of which are covered in tattoos, tattoos that mean something to him, tattoos that tell the story of Harrison.

I am determined to read that story as far as he’ll let me.

Of course, he doesn’t stop undressing.

His pants come off next.

Socks.

Shoes.

Then he’s just in his boxer briefs.

And then . . .

He’s completely naked.

Head to toe.

Completely naked and standing in a sun-dappled forest, looking like some kind of Celtic warrior with his brawny muscles and mysterious tattoos, decorating him like runes.

It takes me a moment to bring my eyes away from his appendage and up to his face, where he’s taking off his sunglasses, because of course they were the last thing to go.

He carefully folds them and places them on top of the rest of his folded clothes. I look at my messy discarded pile for contrast, and he strides into the lake, getting up to his knees before he dives in right beside me.

He’s swimming underwater for a long time, his skin glowing against the dark water, until he pops up farther out into the lake. I swim after him.

“Impressive,” I tell him, treading water.

There’s a wet lock of hair on his forehead, and he shakes it loose.

“What is?” he asks. “My package or my diving skills?”

“Both,” I say, biting my lip as I smile at him.

“I can only explain my diving skills,” he says. “To be a PPO, you have to hold your breath for a long time. As for the other, we’ll just chalk it up to luck.”

“And how are you with treading water while holding on to someone else?” I say to him, swimming closer.

“Just try me,” he says, reaching out underwater and grabbing my waist, pulling me toward him. “I’ll never sink. I’ll always hold you up.”

I wrap my legs around his waist, holding on to his shoulders. “You promise?”

It’s so strange to be with him like this, out in the open sunshine, our bodies wet, his completely naked, his dick pressing against me. I stare at his wet lashes, the drops of water in his arched brows, the warm curve of his smile.

“This is nice,” he says, his voice low.

I lean in and brush my lips against his, then move my head back before he has a chance to kiss me.

“You’re being a tease,” he says. “Might need a spanking for that.”

I laugh, unable to stop the thrill from running through me. “Yes, please.”

He reaches down and grabs my ass, giving it a hearty squeeze. I yelp playfully.

“You know, when I woke up this morning, I didn’t think I’d end up naked in a lake with you,” he comments.

“I guess you never know what to expect with me.”

“That’s true,” he says, almost wistfully. “You really are unlike anyone I’ve ever known.”

“Oh come on,” I say, looking away, my eyes squinting at the sun on the water. “I’m sure you’ve met a few kooky blondes in your day.”

He shakes his head, frowning as he stares at me. “No. There’s been . . . no one.” He takes in a deep breath. “I’ve obviously been with women over the years, but maybe a night here or there. Nothing memorable. Nothing . . . significant. Because I just don’t have the space for them in my life.”

I swallow hard. Oh. Present tense.

He continues. “Piper, I’m going to be honest with you . . .”

Oh no.

“I don’t know how to make this work.”

Oh . . . no.

My face falls. I can’t help it. I feel like letting go and sinking beneath the water.

He holds me tighter, giving strong kicks to keep us afloat, moving us toward the shore until he can touch the bottom. “Please, let me finish, because I am not finished with you.” He puts his hand on my face, cupping my cheek. “I don’t know how to make it work, and that’s true. But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to try. That we won’t try to figure it out together. I’m . . . I just need you to know that no matter what happens, it’s not going to be easy to be with me . . . if you even want to be with me.”

“Of course I do,” I say, my words coming out in a hush.

“Then you have to understand . . . I’m a bloody mess.”

I stare at him for a few seconds, nearly dumbfounded. “A mess? You’re a mess?”

He nods grimly.

“I don’t understand,” I tell him. “You’re the opposite of a mess. You’re stoic and in control and serious. I’m the mess here, with my crazy past and my mother and the pastries that get in my hair and my Tic Tacs. There’s only room for one mess.”

“Then you’ll have to make room for me,” he says. “Just because I am a certain way doesn’t mean that’s not the result of something else.”

“What do you mean?”

He licks his lips and closes his eyes, his expression fraught, like he’s battling with something. “You know I was in the army for all of my twenties, and then some,” he says. “But do you know why I left the army?”

“Because you wanted to work for Eddie.”

“Because I didn’t have much choice. I left the army because of a mistake I made. A mistake that got someone killed. A friend of mine, someone I had taken under my wing, that I was sworn to protect. I injured my leg in the process, couldn’t serve anyway. Was sent home. Eddie knew. Eddie reached out.” He opens his eyes, and they’re brimming with pain. “I don’t know where I’d be if it weren’t for him. The army gave me the structure I needed. Eddie gave me that same structure after I thought I’d lost it all. I am married to my work, Piper. For better or for worse, in sickness and in health, I have sworn to protect them, so that I will never fail again. So when I say I don’t know how to do this with you . . . I don’t. I only know my job. I only know my duty. There’s been no room for anything else.”

Damn. Poor Harrison. It’s painfully obvious now how much his work has overcompensated for the guilt he feels.

I put my hand on his cheek. “You have to make peace with your guilt. You have to find your own forgiveness, your own redemption. You’ll be working for Eddie and Monica until your dying day otherwise, and that’s not much of a life. You still deserve to have one and live one and enjoy it.”

And maybe there’s room for me in it.

“That’s easier said than done.”

“I know it is,” I say imploringly. “You’re suffering from PTSD.”

He looks away, gnawing on his lip.

“It’s true,” I tell him. “I assume that nightmare I caught you having, that it’s not the first one. That you have them a lot. Right?”

His eyes are still focused on the water, on nothing. That says everything.

“You’re reliving it in your dreams because you haven’t dealt with it in real life. And look, I’m no expert. I would never diminish how you feel, and I know that what I’ve gone through with my mother and father is small peanuts compared to what you’ve had to go through. But I have been there. I have learned that the past can hold us and mold us, drown us in its depths. And the person who comes out of that past is a product of everything it was subjected to. But you can get past it, out of it. You can recognize your patterns and behaviors and stop blaming yourself. Just accept it. It sounds like that’s what you’re already doing. You know why you are the way you are, and you want to change it. You should be proud of yourself.”

“Then how come I don’t feel proud?” His voice is grave. It breaks my heart a little.

“Because it takes time. A lot of time. And therapy. Have you been to therapy? I assume that the army must have mandated it.”

He shakes his head. “I said I was fine. I was deemed fine.”

This explains so much. “But you’re admitting you’re not fine, right? I mean, if you don’t think you have room in your life for another person because you’re too devoted to your job, that’s not normal. That’s not fine.”

“I don’t want to hurt you, Piper. I don’t want to mess up. You deserve someone better.”

“First of all,” I tell him, adjusting my grip on his shoulders, “you will hurt me and you will mess up. So will I. We’re two messy people with different baggage, but baggage all the same. And second of all, I get to decide who I deserve. I’ve been around, I’ve had my heart broken, my soul crushed, and I’ve walked out of it. Maybe I have some scars, but they remind me of what I do deserve, and what I deserve is you. You’ll have to trust me on this.”

He gazes into my eyes, the blue green of his shimmering like the lake below. He looks . . . awed. “You’re bloody amazing, you know that?”

I shrug, trying to play it off. “Well, I—”

And for the second time, Harrison cuts me off with a kiss.

Like the first time, I accept my silence willingly.

His hand tightens around me, gripping me close as his mouth presses hungrily against mine, all fire and need and desire. I’m both floating in the water and grounded by him, my legs wrapping around tighter.

I’ve needed this.

I’ve needed him.

His lips drop down to my neck, sucking at my skin, while I hold him to me, my hands disappearing into his hair, then grabbing his shoulder, then coasting down the hard, muscled plane of his back.

While he nips at my neck, a mix of pleasure and pain, I throw my head back and open my eyes to the blue, blue sky above. I think I see a plane, or maybe it’s that I feel so free, it’s like I’m flying, especially as Harrison takes his hand and lowers it down until his fingers are wrapping around the hem of my bottoms.

He pulls it to the side, taking a moment to adjust himself before he pushes himself inside.

I gasp, my voice carrying across the water, feeling every inch of him.

“Is this okay?” he asks, his voice hoarse with lust yet gentle and concerned. Always the gentleman.

I nod, making a groaning sound as my body adjusts to his, taking in a deep breath until he pushes in to the hilt.

I hold him tighter between my legs as he takes a commanding stance in the water, and he starts pumping himself in and out, slowly at first, making sure I feel every blissful drag of him.

I can’t believe this is happening. I know I keep thinking that, and the more that I think that, the less I feel it’s real. But here we are in this beautiful lake, and Harrison is deep inside me, grunts and rough little noises escaping his lips as he works at me.

Occasionally he pulls back enough to stare at me, his brow furrowed with awe, like he can’t believe this is happening, and then he kisses me hard, as if that will bring him proof.

All I can think of is how my body responds to his, how easily it bends and twists and molds to his movement, like we’re synchronized swimming in one spot. I’m weightless and lost to him, to this moment, to everything he’s brought into my little life.

This man.

This man.

I think he might be mine.

“Christ, Piper,” he practically growls as his mouth drifts down to my breast, pulling my top aside and sucking at my nipple. “I don’t know how much longer I can last.”

I’m about to tell him that I won’t be long either when he slips his hand between my legs, his finger pressing against my clit, and from the loud moan that pours out of me, I guess I don’t need to tell him after all.

“I’m coming,” I say through a gasp as his fingers continue to work at me.

There’s no holding back.

Not with him.

Not anymore.

The orgasm sweeps through me like a wave. The kind of wave that you think you can handle, the ones that end up bigger than you thought they’d be. This one takes me out, makes me feel like I’m being spun around like a galaxy, and I’m opening wider and wider and wider, like an exploding star, spreading fire and ice until there’s nothing left of me.

Harrison grunts as he comes inside me, his grip still tight while his pumping slows, his breath heavy and laborious.

We stay connected like this for a few moments, both of us catching our breath. I rest my head against his shoulder and can feel his heart pounding against his chest, competing with the drumming from mine. Slowly, very slowly, the world comes back into place, and I remember where we are and what we’ve done.

We need to get out of here.

“I hate to be one of those people who insists on leaving the scene of the crime,” I tell him as I grip his shoulders and he slowly pulls out of me, setting me back in the water, “but I think we should vacate the area before some bored water department officer shows up.”

“Good idea,” Harrison says.

We both swim back to shore, giggling as we quickly slip on our clothes, feeling like a couple of teenagers who just snuck into a public pool after hours, high on life and sex and each other.

We run back through the forest, staying close.