Page 77 of The Unlikely Heir
Because an aerosol can of cooking spray sits right next to the hot plate.
Aerosol can. Hot grill.
Suddenly my pulse ratchets up like a caffeinated squirrel on a treadmill.
“Uh…excuse me for a moment.” I start walking toward the barbecue.
“Hey,” I call out to the teenager flipping burger patties.
Quinton’s son. What had he said his name was? Gabe.
He doesn’t respond.
I speed up.
“Gabe!” I yell again,
He still doesn’t react.
Shit.
Now I’m running, my heart in my throat. I vaguely register that members of the press have snapped their heads up and other barbecue attendees are retrieving phones from their pockets to record this. I can almost write the headlines myself.
Prince Callum Behaves Like a Maniac
When Princes Go Rogue
But I don’t care about that right now.
Gabe’s standing with his back to me, completely oblivious to the fact I’m now screaming his name.
This is not the time for a polite conversation.
I grab his arm and unceremoniously yank him away from the barbecue.
He pulls out his earbuds, swinging around to face me. “What the fuck?”
I see the moment he realizes who he’s just sworn at because his face turns an interesting purple color.
“The cook—” I start to say.
Before I have a chance to explain, there’s a loud explosion behind us.
Gabe and I both jump.
Suddenly, Teddy and Mike, two members of my security team, are pushing me to the ground. My breath slams out as Teddy lies on top of me, frantically talking into his walkie-talkie.
“It’s okay, it’s okay.” I struggle to free myself from the tangle of bodies. “It’s just an aerosol can exploding from getting too hot.”
Teddy pulls back. “It’s what?”
“A pressurized aerosol can. They can explode if they get too hot.”
I climb to my feet, trying to brush off the grass sticking to my sweater, my hand shaking slightly. I’m suddenly aware the whole crowd is watching me, so I say it again in a louder voice.
“It was just the cooking spray. You need to keep it away from hot grills.”
Mike has gone over to inspect the warped metal remnants of what used to be an innocent-looking aerosol can.
