Page 32 of A Royal Menace

Maybe I should’ve listened to him when he told me to slow down on the vodka. I’d never admit that tohim, though.

I don’t pull away until we’re ensconced in the elevator and on our way up to our floor. I end up slumping back against the mirrored wall. Closing my eyes, I take a couple of deep breaths. When I blink them back open, Royal is watching me with sparkling eyes.

“Am I entertaining you?” I say with no small amount of snark, and he laughs.

“Very much so,” he says, grinning.

I push off the wall too hard and too fast, stumbling over my clunky sandals. Pitching forward, I slam into Royal’s chest even harder than I did at the bar. His arms wrap around me, catching me before I bounce off him and tumble to the floor. I look up, and we stare into each other’s eyes for a few long beats before heslowly dips his head. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, and my breath catches in my throat.

Just before his lips brush over mine, the elevator dings and the doors swish open. We break apart like a couple of teenagers getting walked in on by their parents, and I scurry off the elevator like my life depends upon it.

Fuck. What almost just happened? Did Royal almost kiss me? Or did I imagine the whole thing?

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Royal

The secondwe enter the room, Callie grabs some clothes and locks herself inside the bathroom without a word. I stare at the closed door for several beats, the last few minutes playing on repeat in my head as a feeling of dread washes over me.

What in the hell was I thinking, almost kissing her like that? The answer is clear. I wasn’t. Thinking, that is.

Take away the fact that she’s my coworker and, up until a couple of days ago, my arch nemesis, Callie isincrediblydrunk right now. Kissing her would not only be wrong, but a breach of trust. She trusted me when she was at her most vulnerable, and I almost kissed her.

And even knowing how fucked up it is, I still want to taste her. To feel her lips on mine and see if they’re as soft as they look.

“God,” I whisper, spinning away from the closed bathroom door and stalking toward the opposite end of the room.

Sliding open the door that leads out to the balcony, I step out and close it behind me. I throw myself into one of the chairs and run a hand through my hair as I stare out at the dark ocean. Callie has surprised me this weekend. There’s so much more to her personality than the uptight schoolmarm who berates me on a daily basis when my class gets too rambunctious.

She actuallydoesknow how to have fun. And when she’s off the clock, relaxed, and having a good time… Damn, she’s alluring.

My phone chimes with an incoming text message, and I pull it from my pocket, happy for the distraction. My lips curl up when I see who it’s from, and when I open the thread to read the message, my smile widens.

Elle:I’m sorry to be texting so late, but did you know alcohol is the devil?

A quiet laugh rumbles out of me, then I look over my shoulder to peer through the glass door. The room is still empty, which means Callie is still in the bathroom. Possibly puking. I think she’d agree with Elle. Alcoholisthe devil.

Me:Only if you over-imbibe. Did you? Are you okay?

Elle:Maybe a little. And yes, I’m good. Just dreading the hangover I’m sure to have in the morning.

Me:Drink plenty of water and take some aspirin before you go to sleep.

Elle:Will do. Thank you, and good night.

Me:Good night, Elle.

I scroll back through the messages between my anonymous new friend and me, and my smile turns a bit sad. I’d been texting Hope as I do every year around this time since she passed, and the last thing I ever expected was a response. I didn’t know her family had finally decided to disconnect her phone service. Or that her number had been assigned to someone else.

It was strange, at first, texting this person I’ve never met. Hell, I still don’t know for sure if she’s actually a woman and not some thirty-year-old man still living in his mom’s basement. But something deep inside me rejects that idea. Elle’s texts have a raw honesty that can’t be faked.

And I suppose it doesn’t really matter, in the long run. We agreed not to give each other any personal information. We’re never going to meet. We’re pen pals, just without the actual paper and pens.

It’s fun. But I’m sure our messages will eventually fizzle out. And when they do, I’ll remember them, and Elle, fondly.

I take another look over my shoulder just in time to see Callie exit the bathroom. She’s wearing those microscopic shorts and thin t-shirt again, her face is rosy after a fresh scrubbing, and her hair is tied up in a messy knot on top of her head. God, how does she look even prettier than she did all dolled up?

I snap back around, swallowing the lump in my throat as I stare at the ocean again. This needs to stop. We’ll be leaving in the morning, and then it’s back to real life. I don’t know if things will go back to normal, or if there will be anewnormal after all the time we spent together this weekend, but neither of those scenarios should include me lusting after Calliope Barnes.

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