Home > Royal Cocktail(5)

Royal Cocktail(5)
Author: J. Kenner

Banter. She was actually bantering with this guy. How had that happened?

“Why don’t we split the difference and say that we were looking at each other?”

“Yes,” she said, managing to control her giggles. “I can … live with … that.”

He turned toward the door, and she wanted the ground to swallow her up, since he was obviously now making a quick getaway. But then he flashed that smile again. “You were on your way in, weren’t you?”

“I—yes. I mean, no.”

“Well, that’s rather confusing, isn’t it?”

She cleared her throat and concentrated on speaking slowly and breathing properly. Usually she didn’t have to focus so much, but he made her unreasonably nervous. “I was going to meet a friend. But she cancelled on me.”

“So you were going to leave and deny those of us in the bar the pleasure of seeing you?”

“You were leaving, too.”

“Something I never would have contemplated had I known you were about to enter.”

“You’re sweet.” She looked down to hide both her blush and her nerves. “But … I should go. I have … finals coming up, and—”

“What are you studying?”

It was a common enough question, almost the equivalent of “How’s it going.” But he seemed genuinely interested.

“Law.”

“Really? I wouldn’t have taken you for a lawyer last night.” His head tilted slightly as he looked at her, a frown tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Actually, maybe I would have.”

“Why?”

“You looked like you were debating. That was one of the things that kept drawing my eyes back to you.”

She’d been with Hannah and her law partner, Easton, both of whom Skye was comfortable speaking around. That, however, did not make for an accurate first impression. “I … don’t usually talk that … much.”

“Really? I’m surprised.”

He spoke with no irony at all, but the words were just too much. The man wasn’t deaf, which meant he had to be pulling her chain, and that pissed her off.

“Surprised? Then … you … are an … idiot.” She turned away and started down the sidewalk. What the hell? It was one thing to ignore her speech. Another altogether to mock it.

She’d only gone five steps when he moved in front of her, blocking her path. “Please forgive me. That came out terribly wrong.”

She considered pushing him aside—after all, she didn’t know this guy and owed him nothing—but she heard real mortification in that polished voice.

She nodded, quick and sharp. “Apology accepted. Please … move.”

“I only meant that you looked as if you were having a real conversation, not just random bar talk. I took you as a woman who goes deeper than small talk. I didn’t mean to mock your speech. Is it dysarthria?”

Her spine went straight. “You know that?”

“My uncle was thrown from a horse when he was fifteen. He was treated, of course, and had regular therapy. And though there was some improvement in the early years, he never regained what most people would call normal speech.” He smiled warmly at her. “He had his own normal, and though we could hear the difference, it bothered no one. The family was very matter-of-fact about his speech, and to be honest no one outside the family would have thought of teasing him or looking down on him because of it.”

“Oh.” Outside group therapy as a child and some volunteer work she did in a nursing home with stroke survivors, she’d never met anyone else with the condition. “What did he do for a living?”

“He was an advisor in, ah, the family business. He spoke quite a bit. Made presentations. That kind of thing. It was both a public and important job.”

“I was five,” she said, the words surprising her. “A car wreck. It … killed my mother.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Thank you. And—well, I’m sorry I … snapped.”

“No, I was insensitive.” He tilted his head in a small nod, the gesture seeming both charming and old-fashioned. “So the man at your table yesterday….”

“Yes?”

“When the woman with you left, you and he seemed more … engaged.”

“Oh, no. I’m not getting … married.”

He chuckled, and her face burned as she realized he didn’t mean that kind of engaged.

Thankfully it was too dark for him to see her cheeks, and she started walking again. Fast.

“No, no,” he said, hurrying to catch up “I meant that the conversation seemed intense.” He paused. “You’re really not seeing him? Or anyone?”

She slowed her pace, shaking her head as she looked sideways at him. “We were making plans. For Hannah’s birthday. Nothing more.”

The corner of his mouth curved up in the most adorable grin. “Well, that’s good information to have, isn’t it?”

“Is it?” Her voice sounded breathy.

“Have you ever heard of quantum entanglement?”

She made a whooshing motion over her head.

He waved the words away. “Sorry. Not important. Let’s just say you caught my eye.”

She wanted to press him to tell her more, but she knew enough to know that he was talking physics. And frankly, a science lecture wasn’t the direction she wanted this conversation to go. Not law, either, for that matter.

Rational thought warred with desire, and she hugged herself, wanting to join him for a drink, but also terrified by the idea. She didn’t date much—hell, she didn’t date at all—and right before finals hardly seemed like the time to start.

She cleared her throat, determined to stay focused. “I should get home.” A group of three drunk guys stumbled by, all ogling her and whistling. Harmless, but annoying. She ignored them, her attention still on her companion. “I’ve got finals soon.”

Disappointment registered on his face, but he only nodded, then extended his hand. “I’ll walk you to your car.”

“My condo’s close. I’m fine.”

His attention cut back toward the three drunken guys, then returned to her. “Then I’ll walk you to your door.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“No, but I know how daunting it can be to feel like you’re being watched. Like you can’t go from one place to another safely. Please, let me escort you.”

She realized he spoke with an exactness to his words. His voice polished and careful. “Why do you know that?” she asked as they walked slowly down the street.

“Let’s just say I’ve had an interesting life.”

“You’re too young to have completely had a life yet.”

“I’m twenty-six. So let’s say that I’ve had an interesting life so far.”

She nodded slowly. “Are your parents celebrities?”

“Something like that.”

“That must be hard,” she said. “Being in the spotlight. They chose it, but you didn’t. But ultimately, you’ll … have your own life.”

“Perhaps. Perhaps not. I come from a very traditional family,” he said, “but I also know that we’re very old school. And definitely an anomaly compared to most of the population.”

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