Home > The Royals Next Door(6)

The Royals Next Door(6)
Author: Karina Halle

   He eyes me. “What does that have to do with anything?”

   “I’m just trying to prove that I’m human.”

   “I never said you were a robot. I said I need to make sure you aren’t a threat. And for your information, Tic Tacs were Ted Bundy’s candy of choice.”

   “So now you’re comparing me to one of America’s most famous serial killers?”

   He opens the door and gets out of the car. This already seems like a classic Harrison response and I don’t even know the guy.

   “By the way,” I tell him, getting out of the car and looking at him over the roof, “Tic Tacs aren’t candy. They are mints.”

   “I find the fact that you stress-eat them troubling.”

   “And also, if Ted Bundy really ate Tic Tacs, he wouldn’t have been able to sneak up on anyone. You would have heard him coming.”

   “Doesn’t change a thing.”

   I throw my arms out. “Fine. Do you want to call the school principal and get a reference of character or something? I guess the chief of police wasn’t good enough.”

   He stares at me, and even in the shadow of the trees, he still hasn’t removed his sunglasses. I’m starting to think he goes to sleep in them.

   It doesn’t matter. I’m done here. Any excitement I should be feeling over the fact that the royals might be moving next door has been absolutely dashed due to this sexy British dick on a power trip.

   Whoops. Did I say sexy? Definitely didn’t mean that.

   I grumble under my breath and start walking toward the house, noticing the light in the kitchen is on, which means my mother is probably up. I steady myself internally.

   “I need to walk you to the door,” Harrison says, slamming the car door hard enough to make the Garbage Pail shake, and I look over my shoulder to see him striding purposefully over to me.

   I blink at him, shaking my head before I turn around and start walking to the front door, hoping my mother doesn’t have to see any of this.

   “You, sir, have control issues,” I point out.

   “It’s my bloody job to have control issues,” he snaps.

   I pause and look at him. Whoa. Defensive much? I think this is the first display of any sort of emotion I’ve seen from him.

   He realizes how he’s come across too, because it’s like he wipes his face clean and there it is, that blank but broody slate again. He clears his throat, raises his strong chin in defiance. “Control is an important factor of my job.”

   Yeah, that’s not what you said the first time, 007.

   I head for the door up the winding woodland-style path with prehistoric-looking hostas lining the sides, and stop on the front steps, ivy crawling up the sides of the overhang. “Okay, well, here I am at the door. Satisfied? Or are you going to demand to come inside too, because I know for a fact that you’ll need to provide a search warrant and I can scream real loud.”

   He studies me for a moment, and I so know that he wants to tell me some bullshit about inspecting my house to make sure I don’t have dead bodies in my freezer, but instead he just nods. “That will be all.”

   He’s turning to leave just as the door opens.

   I freeze in place.

   He freezes in place.

   My mother is there, her head poking through the narrow opening as she eyes us both suspiciously. Her hair is a mess, and I cringe inwardly in embarrassment until I remember that my hair is a mess too. Like mother, like daughter.

   “What are you doing? Why are you late? Who is that?” At the last question she narrows her eyes into slits, venomous daggers directed at Harrison.

   I know I have to lie. My mom has paranoid delusions and distrusts authority, and if she found out the truth about Harrison, she’d start freaking out, and that’s when Harrison would really consider us a threat.

   “Mom,” I say quickly, gesturing to Harrison. “This is Harrison Cole. He’s, uh, our new neighbor.”

   I can feel his frown at my back, and I keep on smiling, hoping he’ll play along. Then again, I don’t think the man knows what the concept of play is. He probably supervised other children on the playground when he was young.

   “Harrison Ford?” she asks.

   “Harrison Cole,” I tell her. Then I do a weird thing where I lean back and grab Harrison’s forearm and pull him forward so he’s standing next to me, and I don’t let go of his arm. His very strong, muscly arm. Holy crap. Just touching him feels like it’s scrambled my brain. I clear my throat and try to ignore it. “He might rent the house next door, so I thought I’d show him where we live.”

   To his credit, Harrison hasn’t yanked himself out of my grasp, nor has he corrected me on this white lie.

   My mother eyes my grasp on him, and then a strange look of realization comes over her face. I know what that look is. She thinks I’m interested in this man, like, sexually, because so far, he seems exactly like all the assholes I used to be attracted to: handsome, emotionally constipated, and very controlling.

   “Okay,” she finally says. “Welcome to the neighborhood, then. Do you want to come in?”

   “No,” I say quickly, my voice bordering on a yelp. “No, no. It’s fine.” Harrison opens his mouth to say something, but I blabber on through. “He has to go back; this was just a quick visit. I’m sure you’ll see him again if he rents the place.”

   My mom shrugs, suddenly disinterested. “Okay,” she says, then closes the door on the both of us.

   “What was that?” Harrison says to me after a beat.

   “You mean my mother? She’s like that. Don’t take it personally.”

   “No, I mean, why did you lie? Why didn’t you tell her who I was?”

   “It’s a long story,” I tell him. And none of his business, but I don’t feel like antagonizing him anymore. He did his part by keeping his mouth shut, and that’s good enough for me. Now if only I didn’t have to see him again. Something tells me that might be a tall order. “But thanks for playing along.”

   “I didn’t seem to have a choice,” he admits gruffly.

   I fold my arms and shrug. “Well, I’m afraid that despite what my mother just said, this is where we part ways. If you feel like harassing me further, feel free to leave a letter in our mailbox.”

   He watches me for a moment, exhaling harshly through his nose. Then he gives a stern nod. “I’ll be in touch. If they do end up renting this place, we’ll need to put a security gate at the start of the driveway, and I’m sure we’ll need your permission for that. I’ll make sure to put the forms in your mailbox.”

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