Page 37 of Reluctantly Rogue

He knows better.

I like our friendship. I like feeling like he's taking care of me. I like the way he watches me when I enter a room. I like the way that I can search a room for him and find him, his eyes on me no matter where we are. I know that I can text him at any time of the day or night, and he'll respond. I like knowing that tonight when he gets home from the pub he will stop here in the kitchen.

Because I know he knows I’m at the palace tonight. Jonahalwaysknows things like that. Even though he and Torin were out and didn’t join us for dinner, I know he knows I’m here.

We've developed some easy habits that I'll admit are comforting, but they also cause butterflies.

Like right now. It's eleven twenty and I can hear footsteps coming down the hall.

“Duchess, you're here.”

I turn to find him leaning against the doorway. His hands are tucked in his pants pockets, and he has a goofy smile on his face.

Okay, I likethatsmile too. It’s new. Ish. It’s his I’m-really-glad-to-see-you smile. But it’s a little bigger and wider than usual. Maybe because there’s no one else around.

“I’m here,” I say with a smile. “I didn’t know if I’d see you.”

“I came back early, hoping you’d be here. In the kitchen.”

That makes my heart flip. Elevenisearly to leave the pub. But he came back hoping I’d be here? See…how am I not supposed to have a crush on him?

Dammit. I have a crush on my fiancé’s best friend. That’s not good.

Chapter8

Linnea

* * *

Iturn to face him, bracing my hands on the counter behind me. The island is between us, but I still drink in the sight of him. He’s wearing blue jeans, and a long-sleeved black shirt that molds to that chest and those shoulders…

Yeah, there’s nothing wrong with my hormones.

“I’m glad you came back early,” I tell him.

He hasn’t noticed the cookies yet. They’re taking up all the counter space, but he hasn’t looked away from me yet.

My heart starts thudding faster in my chest.

He pushes away from the doorway and takes a few steps toward me. He does not walk a straight line.

I feel myself grinning. “I take it you had a few birthday drinks?” He’s obviously more than a little tipsy.

He makes it to the huge island in the middle of the kitchen and braces his hands on it. But he’s still looking at me. “People were very friendly.”

I feel a little stab of jealousy again thinking about the ‘friendly’ kisses, but I laugh. “Did you have a good time?”

“I did. But I wanted you to be there.”

I feel my brows arch. Wow, maybe the liquor has loosened his tongue a bit. He never says things like that. “Really?”

He nods. “But you're not a pub girl, are you?”

“Well, that's a pretty big assumption,” I tell him. “I actually go to the pub a lot. When my brother and sister are in town, we’re there almost every night. They’re local celebrities, you know. And they’re definitely pub people. I love the pub. I go for lunch on a regular basis. Molly does a great job.”

He sinks down onto one of the stools on his side of the counter and leans in, his brow furrowed. “Who's Molly?”

“The owner of the pub.”

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