Page 27 of Royal Games (The Royals of Monterra)

Rafe showing up reminded me of the time onMarry Mewhen another contestant, Abigail, had crashed one of my dates with Rafe. He had been very nice to her and tried to put her off, while she went on and on about how they belonged together and that all of America was rooting for them. I’d been so impressed by how much of a gentleman he was, though I had wanted to maim Abigail for attempting to sabotage our date.

If Tommy felt the same way right now about Rafe, I didn’t care. There was a foal that needed me, and I was glad for the excuse to get away from Tommy.

Rafe let himself out without saying a single word to Tommy. I followed behind him, but Tommy grabbed my shoulder as I walked outside. “Hey, weren’t you even going to say good night?”

I was being terribly rude. Rafe walked down the steps and headed for the street. I should have apologized to Tommy for having to leave early, or thanked him for the date. If I did either one of those things, though, I would be lying. I didn’t feel sorry or thankful. Just glad I’d be able to get away. “You’re right. Good night, Tommy.”

But before I could finish my sentence, his cold, wet fish lips were on mine. I immediately reared back, putting distance between us. I came this close to slapping him. The kiss had felt wrong and gross. Like he had been trying to eat my mouth. “I’ll call you,” he said.

Please don’t,was my unspoken reply.

As I went down the stairs, I wiped my mouth off with the back of my hand. It felt wrong to leave any remnants of Tommy’s disaster there after the artistry of Rafe’s kisses.

Kiss felt like such an inadequate word. Rafe hadn’t just kissed me. He had ... ravished my mouth. Like some kind of invading Viking horde bent on total domination.

And it had been fantastic.

He stood by the passenger door of his SUV. He held it open for me when I approached, and closed it shut after I’d gotten inside. Not because I couldn’t do it myself, but because his mother had raised him to be polite.

He got in and started the car, adjusting the heater and showing me where the seat warmer controls were for my seat. “Do you need my coat?” he asked. He was in the process of removing it, but I held a hand up. “I’m fine. Thanks.” His SUV had heated up so quickly it wasn’t necessary.

I asked him if he needed directions, but he showed me his GPS. He pulled out onto the road, and we sat in silence for a few minutes before he said, “How did your date end? Because it sounded like—”

“Like it wasn’t your business?” I could only imagine how the end of that nightmare might have sounded to him. At least he seemed like himself again. Calm, levelheaded. He was back to being my Rafe. Which made me feel the way I used to feel when we were together. Like we were missing pieces of a matched set. And that left me torn between wanting to thank him for rescuing me, admonishing him for interfering, and throwing myself at him with reckless abandon.

“You’re right. It’s not my business.” I saw his jaw clench. “And I need to apologize for my behavior earlier.”

My heart skipped so many beats I worried for my health. His kisses were behavior problems now?

“I didn’t mean to seem angry. I’m not mad. I’m just frustrated.”

Were we thinking of the same thing? I probably should have responded, but I didn’t. What could I say? That some part of me was glad he’d gone all Neanderthal? I shouldn’t be encouraging him if I didn’t see this going anywhere. I wanted to forgive, but I wasn’t sure I was capable of forgetting.

“I get it,” I finally said. I was frustrated too, but for other reasons.

He glanced at me. “I shouldn’t have kissed you either.”

That sent a jolt straight through me, putting me into one of those thought-free stupors. My gaze was drawn to his lips. “Oh.”

“That was about frustration of a different kind. I won’t do that again.”

Masterful wordsmith that I was, I said, “Oh” again. I waited for those twin and disparate feelings of gladness and disappointment, but was surprised to discover that I only felt disappointment. I wasn’t going to think about what that meant.

“Not unless you ask me to.” He was teasing, but because of his seductive tone I was too busy imagining how I could get him to kiss me without seeming like I had given in. Mistletoe? A bet? A dare?

What was wrong with me? He had reduced me to my sixteen-year-old self. And she was more than a little boy crazy and would have put out a hit on me for not wanting to start things back up with him.

She had terrible judgment, though. She was the one excited to go out with Tommy.

I had to redirect my thoughts and feelings to safer territory. “You could have just called Tommy to let me know what was going on. Aunt Sylvia could have tracked down his number.”

“I could have,” he agreed. But he didn’t say anything else.

He left me to wonder what that meant while we pulled into the long driveway of the Montgomery ranch. If this were some romantic comedy, I’d be scheming ways to chase him off, but I was currently too busy and too conflicted. I would have to tolerate the situation until I didn’t have to tolerate it anymore.

Because at some point he had to get tired of just waiting around, didn’t he?

I directed him to the right barn, and he came to a stop. “I’ll get a ride home,” I told him as I hopped out. “Thanks for bringing me.”

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