Page 32 of Royal Desire

That does it.

The TV goes silent, the interrogation light blinds me again, and the deadbolt violently turns.

Fucking finally.

She stands in the middle of the doorway in a pair of pajama pants that look like a circus tent from the last century and a pink tank. The pants sit low on her hips, and the tank barely makes it past her ribs. Yesterday’s makeup is smudged around her eyes, and her hair is a mess piled on top of her head. She’s giving off emo teen vibes, but the Easter-egg edition.

And she’s pissed. “What the hell are you doing? Grandma was exhausted after last night. She went to bed early.”

I try to peek inside the house. “Where’s Blake?”

“He’s at the manor working in The Greenhouse tonight. They should give him a complimentary room since he’s there so much.”

I lift my chin. “Good. Let me in. We can talk.”

She takes a step forward and folds her arms, causing her miniature tank to ride up farther. “You’re not coming in. I have nothing to say to you.”

I told myself I was going to keep it together and drop the asshole bit. I hate myself for it. I lower my tone and do my best to speak slower. “Then I’ll talk and you can listen. Ruby, please, let me in.”

“Please?” Her brows hike in unison. “It’s like you’re another person from last night. I assumed the word please was wiped from your vocabulary.”

I stuff my hands in my pockets and try to focus on her eyes and not the smooth skin of her midriff. The last thing I need is a boner like I’m in high school simply from a few inches of skin. “I deserve that. Still, let me in so⁠—”

“No.” She doesn’t let me finish. “You can turn around and leave. It’s late, and I’ve had a long day dealing with an irritable senior citizen who claimed grandparent abuse because I forced her to eat broccoli and a protein that wasn’t deep fried. I also had to learn everything there is to know about type 2 diabetes from the internet. I’m tired.”

I give in but I refuse to leave. “Fine. We’ll talk here. How is Alice other than being pissed about the broccoli?”

Ruby’s shoulders slump a fraction. Maybe I put a dent in her shell. “She’s pissed. Though it seems she’s just mad at herself that she self-medicated incorrectly, but not because of what happened. She’s upset because Blake and I know everything.”

I wanted nothing to do with medicine or the human body—other than Ruby’s—until Dean strong-armed me into joining the volunteer fire department. I don’t hate the medic stuff and sort of get off on the fact I can save a life. “How were her glucose levels today?”

“They were within the normal range. I probably checked it more than necessary, hence the fact she’s so grumpy.”

“I’m glad. She’s always been independent—and by that, I mean a maverick. Alice is in a class of her own.’”

“She is. I’ve become a hovering granddaughter, and I think Blake was even more shaken than me. I’m pretty sure she was happy I was back until this happened.”

“I doubt that. She loves you.”

“She does. I’m very lucky to have her.”

This is fucking phenomenal. I’m having a normal conversation with Ruby Sinclair, and I haven’t been an asshole once. Look at me go.

But I’m anxious and eager, I can’t help myself. “Since you mentioned it, why are you back?”

Her eyes narrow in an instant and her entire demeanor changes. “I already told you. Just because you didn’t like my answer to begin with doesn’t change anything. And by the way, how do you know I work at the Combover tomorrow?”

“You’re not the only one helping out while Winnie is down. I stopped for gas and ran into Bobby. He said he heard about our...” I roll my lips and pick my words as carefully as I would in a courtroom. “Incident at the diner last week. He told me JoJo is filling in at the Combover on the weekends. He gave me the schedule.”

Her expression falls. “That’s not his business to share. Why would he do that?”

“Because I asked and this is Winslet. Everyone knows everything.”

She tucks an errant strand of her soft hair behind her ear. Even messy, it’s just as beautiful as ever and reminds me of times we’d find ways to spend the night together. It wasn’t often, but when we could manage to lie to everyone in our lives, we made it happen. I’ve never forgotten one moment I spent with her.

I can’t stop staring at her. She’s not wearing a bra, which is going to challenge my vow to not jerk off to the vision of being buried inside her.

“You have no right to know my schedule. You’ve turned into an asshole and a stalker.”