Page 18 of The Prince and the Double Shot
“You walked right by me without a glance. Guess I’m losing my charm,” he snickered. “Ready?”
“You have definitely not lost it,” I whispered to myself. He looked like a Greek god in a pair of white shorts and a light blue t-shirt that made his eyes sparkle. How the hell could he stand wearing something so tight? You could practically see his muscles ripple beneath it.
He held out his hand, and I had to force my hand forward. Contact – close contact – I haven’t allowed myself to have it in so long that my hand shook as I stretched it out. His large hand enveloped mine, and he pulled me out the front door.
“It’s not too long of a walk, yourhighness,” he teased. “Think you can make it. Looks like you're in good enough shape.”
“I don’t think you need to call the carriage,” I chuckled.
I could feel his eyes rake over me, and I felt the tingle of goosebumps erupt onto my flesh.
“So, how are we going to play this?”
“What do you mean?” I asked as we walked around a car and down towards the street. “Where are we going again?”
“You’ll love it. Trust me.”
“Trust is earned, not given.”
“I get it. But you’re not in the palace right now,” he teased. “In real life, we trust people until they prove you wrong.”
I smiled wryly. “That sounds stupid. Do you just hand your wallet to anyone on the street and expect them not to run away with it?”
“That’s not what…”
I laughed, and he squeezed my hand tighter.
“In real life, not everyone wants something from you is what I mean, I guess.”
“This all started because you asked if I trusted you. I didn’t need a lesson in life outside the palace. What doyouknow of palace life? Is there something that I should know?”
“A palace to one is a hovel to another,” he chuckled. “I grew up in… Well, I guess youcouldcall it a palace if youwanted. It was big enough. See… I shared.”
“Trust is earned. That’s what I mean.”
“Dude! I am taking you to get a drink. I don’t plan on killing you on the way.”
“I know that.”
“Do you?” He stopped, and my hand pulled out of his as I took another step. I turned to him and chuckled.
“When you get all stubborn, your face turns red.” My brow furrowed as I thought about the past and another ginger boy whose face flushed with emotion.
“I’m a ginger.” He smirked, and I could feel a little dip in my stomach. I glanced back down at the sidewalk.
“I like it. I might have to get you mad more often,” I spoke truthfully. It unlocked something within me – an emotional urge that I hadn’t felt in a long time.
“Is that an actual compliment?”
“Don’t get used to it.”
“I don’t think that will be a problem. You like to argue.” He started walking again, and I hurriedly caught up beside him.
“I like… exciting conversation, as long as the other person has the ability to keep up.”
“How am I doing?”
“You’re a professional. I probably need to up my game if I want to be in your company. You flirt at one moment and turn into a madman the next. And your banter is…”
