Page 24 of Royal Games (The Royals of Monterra)

He would stop every once in a while to push over the wood that didn’t automatically fall into the large pile he had created.

My mouth went completely dry, like somebody had shoved it full of cotton balls, when he lifted up the end of his tank to dry the sweat on his face. I got a good peek at his abdomen, which looked like somebody had airbrushed it on. My skin went hot as I remembered the last time I’d seen him without his shirt on, how he had kissed me and held me, how I had touched him ...

As if he sensed he was being watched and fantasized about, he chose that moment to look up.

I dropped to the floor like a sack of potatoes. I tried to hold my breath and not make any sound at all. Maybe he hadn’t seen me. Maybe I had gotten down fast enough.

There was a knock at the kitchen door. My heartbeat pounded in my ears. Go away! Please just go away and don’t make this worse!

But not being able to read my mind, and showing that he wasn’t averse to doing things that embarrassed me, he called out, “Genesis?”

I stayed put. The door wasn’t locked. If he walked in, the jig would definitely be up. Would he come inside? It didn’t seem like something he would do. Given my luck, though ...

As I considered my options, I was starting to edge my way along the floor. Then there was a knock at the window. There stood Rafe, still in his tank top, looking down. He raised one eyebrow at me. I had a flush that I could feel all the way to my toes.

Getting up, I went over to the door to let him in. He came inside with an amused expression on his face, chilly air rushing in behind him. It did little to cool me off. My body swayed toward him, and I forced myself to take a step back. I knew my face had gone so red it probably matched my hair, but I remembered why I had gone searching for him in the first place. It wasn’t to admire his many assets. It was to confront him about the library books.

So before he could say or do something that might make me forget my intentions, I said, “No more gifts. Can I make myself any clearer than that?”

Even I flinched at the sound of my voice. There was a flash of hurt in his face that was so brief I nearly missed it. Then he asked, “Which gift are you talking about?”

“All of them. But especially the library books.”

It was then that I noticed he had brought his shirt in, because he chose that moment to put it back on. I was glad I didn’t have to worry about being distracted by more rippling muscles when I was trying to be mad.

“That wasn’t a gift for you. It was a gift for the library. And now you don’t have to worry about finishing up the book drive. It’s finished.” He said this like he couldn’t understand what my objection might possibly be.

“That’ssonot the point!”

“What is the point?” His demeanor was calm, but I could tell I had provoked him. “For you to spend hours working on something you don’t need to work on? You have too many other things on your plate. I’ve taken this off.”

I couldn’t be bought and paid for. A voice whispered,That’s not what he’s doing, but I ignored it. Six months ago I would have thought it was romantic. Now, it was just too much.

“Send them back.” Petulant and sulking, party of one. I didn’t want to act this way, but it was literally the only thing I had to keep him at bay. He wouldn’t leave. He wouldn’t stop pursuing me and insinuating himself into my life. He wouldn’t stop making gestures and being sweet. I had to put a stop to it, but other than being angry, I didn’t know how.

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not sending them back.”

“You should. They must have cost you a fortune.”

He sat down at the kitchen table. “It’s just money.”

Just money. How I could use that “just money” right now! I thought of how much we needed it. But I couldn’t be upset over how he chose to spend it, because I knew all I had to do was ask and he would give me whatever I wanted. Happily. Cheerfully.

But it would be like he owned me. Like I had to forgive him for everything that he’d done because he’d thrown around enough money to make my life better. It made our relationship totally unequal. I didn’t know how to explain to him how small it made me feel. How inadequate. It was one of the many reasons I needed him to leave me alone and let me get on with my life. I wasn’t going to become a princess, and he wasn’t going to become an Iowa farmer.

I let out a long sigh while flexing and unflexing my hands. “I can’t do this right now. I have to get ready.”

“For your date?” His eyes flashed with such force, I felt taken aback.

How did he know? “Not that it’s any of your business, but yes, I have a date. So if you’ll excuse me, you can see yourself out.”

He got up so quickly from the chair that it nearly tipped backward. “Is that what you want? For me to leave?” He was usually so even-keeled with his emotions I didn’t know how to react to his raised voice.

“Yes, that’s what I want.”

As he slammed the kitchen door shut behind him, I had to ask myself whether or not that was actually true.

I got ready for my date. I heard Rafe and Aunt Sylvia having dinner together downstairs, and I didn’t join them for two reasons—first, I didn’t know if Tommy Davis planned on us going out to eat, and second, I wasn’t quite ready to face Rafe yet.

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