Page 17 of A Royal Menace

Stopping at the door to my room, I pull the keycard from my pocket and press it to the sensor. When the door unlocks, Ipush it open and stand aside so Callie can enter first. I follow her inside and set her bag on the bed closest to the door before turning toward her.

“Is this okay? You can have the one by the window, if you want.”

“It’s fine,” she says, and I nod before stepping away.

The awkwardness of the situation becomes a bit stifling, so I pull open the sliding glass door and step out onto the small balcony before closing the door behind me. The hotel is in Santa Monica, and I have a great view of the pier and the waters of the Pacific.

It’s peaceful, and I feel myself relaxing until I hear the door slide open behind me. I instantly stiffen, then hold my breath as I wait for Callie to join me at the railing.

“I’m sorry I acted so…ungrateful,” she says, quietly, and I release the breath I was holding before turning to look at her. She keeps her eyes on the sea as she says, “Thank you. Seriously.”

“You’re welcome,” I whisper back.

She finally meets my gaze and gives me a small smile. There’s a weirdly charged moment where I can’t breathe, but I shake it off and clear my throat before nodding and stepping back into the room. Callie follows, and I force my voice to sound normal when I speak.

“Do you want to head down to the welcome mixer? It should be starting soon.”

“You go ahead,” she says. “I need a few minutes to freshen up.”

“Okay,” I say, then point toward the dresser that sits beneath the large television hanging on the wall. “There’s an extra keycard for you in that envelope, and the bottom two drawers are empty. There’s room in the closet, too, if you need to hang some things.”

“Sounds good. Thank you,” she says.

“Okay,” I say again, sounding like a broken record. “I’ll see you down there.”

She just nods, and I turn in a jerky motion before stalking toward the door. Once out in the hall by myself, I bite out a soft curse and shake my head. Why was I being so weird in there? It’s just Callie. My coworker. My nemesis.

Okay, maybe “nemesis” is too strong of a word. Foe? Adversary?

I shake my head again and start walking toward the elevator. I feel like I keep having this same argument with myself over and over. Callie gets mad or uncomfortable, and I think she’s cute. I reprimand myself for thinking of her that way and remind myself we’re not even friends.

But the Callie I just dealt with isn’t the same Callie I’m used to. She was…nice? No, that isn’t the right word. She wasopen. Normally, she keeps herself closed off, happy to feel nothing but irritation and anger whenever I’m around. And seeing her so open and vulnerable as she thanked me for sharing my room…it did things to me.

Things I can’t afford to even consider, much less act on.

I need a drink.

The mixer is just kicking off when I get to the ballroom where it’s being held, and I make a beeline for the bar. I already had a couple of beers tonight, so I stick with the same, ordering a bottle of a locally brewed IPA. Drink in hand, I turn to survey the room. People are trailing in through the open doors, and I see a group of teachers from Northern California I met last time I was here, so I head over to say hello.

“Royal,” one of the female teachers cheers when she spots me, making me smile.

We exchange a polite hug, then I do the same with the others. I remember this group being a good time when I met them twoyears ago, and I’m glad they’re here again this year. They’re a lively bunch with grade-A banter and all the best gossip.

“Who was that gorgeous creature I saw you talking to in the lobby earlier?” John Starr, the only other male teacher in the group asks with a half-smile.

My brow furrows for a moment, then smooths out when I realize he must be talking about Callie. I stifle the twist in my gut at his use of the words “gorgeous creature” because it feels distinctly like jealousy, and that’s just fucking ridiculous.

“Callie Barnes,” I say, and Helene, a fifth grade teacher from Antioch inhales sharply, making my gaze snap toward her.

“The harridan you work with?”

My entire body flinches at her words, and that twinge of jealousy I felt evaporates before guilt replaces it. “Harridan” wasmyword, not hers. I used it to describe Callie when we were discussing our coworkers over too many drinks the last time we were all together here.

“I was wrong to call her that, and I was drunk at the time,” I say, my words quick and quiet. “She has a different teaching style than me, and that’s okay. She’s not really that bad.”

Helene nods, and the others follow suit, obviously catching my drift that I regret saying those words and they should never, ever repeat them. Especially around Callie. Of course, not saying it to Callie’s face would be obvious. But just in case…

“She’s a good person, and a great teacher. I don’t want something I said in frustration to color your opinion of her before you’ve even met her,” I say.

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