Page 10 of Royal Cocktail

Leopold rolled his eyes and turned back to the table, but he was more pleased by the approval than he should be.

He glanced at the menu, wondering what kind of appetizers she’d like. When he looked up again, he didn’t see her. A chill shot through his entire body, the fear that she had decided to leave. That her friend had told her that it was a bad idea to go out for drinks with a guy she barely knew, or that she’d found another guy she wanted to be with more.

He felt panic rise, and the Crown Prince of Avelle-am-see did not panic. Except, apparently, he did.

Then he saw her, and the world leveled again. He took a long sip of his drink, finishing off the bottle, and leaned back before signaling for another. This was not good. He barely knew this woman. So why was he letting her get under his skin this way?

The answer became clear when she came back to the table, smiling and laughing.

He was letting her in because he wanted to. Wanted her. Not forever—he knew well enough that couldn’t happen. But for right now, he wanted to be with her. Not sex—at least not necessarily. But her. He didn’t understand why, but she brought a wild joy into his life. The kind that he felt when he was working an equation and making progress, only more intense. And that kind of feeling was to be cherished.

“I love these,” she said as she picked up the Loaded Corona and slid into the seat across from him. From what he could tell, she wasn’t the least bit self-conscious about her speech around him anymore. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He lifted his empty bottle. “I love them too.”

“I’m sorry I disappeared. Griffin’s overly … protective of me.”

“He’s a good friend.”

“It’s more than that. He was in … a fire, and his face is pretty scarred. So he—”

“I understand,” he said gently. “He knows what it’s like to be self-conscious.”

She nodded. “And to be looked at like there’s … something wrong with … you. Like you’re less.”

“Anyone who thinks that about you is an idiot.”

She met his eyes. Held them. “That’s what he says.”

“Then I’ll like your friend just fine.”

She took a long sip of her drink then put it on the table. Then she reached over and took his hand, and it was as if the heavens opened.

He drew in a shaky breath, and met her eyes again, then felt as if he was drowning in those deep, brown pools. And, oh God, that shock of electricity that had cut through him with more intensity than anything he’d ever felt in his life.

She gasped, and he knew she felt it, too, as she held his gaze and said, very simply, “Hey.”

“Hey, yourself.”

For a moment, they just stared. Then, as if on cue, they grinned at each other.

Their stupid lack of words didn’t matter. The touch of their hands said everything.

Chapter Six

Present Day

Leopold felt the sting across his cheek, his heart shattering with the impact.

He hadn’t expected to see her at the bar. Skye Porter. The woman who’d stolen his heart—and whose heart he’d so recklessly broken.

For that matter, he hadn’t intended to go to The Fix at all—too many bittersweet memories. But he was staying in the LBJ Presidential Suite at Austin’s famous Driskill Hotel, and his corner balcony had a view of Sixth Street. He’d been in town for less than an hour, but once he’d caught a glimpse of the street and the bar … well, how could he not at least step inside and see if the place had changed?

Jürgen had pulled open the door, Leopold had stepped through, and joy had flooded him, the emotion so intense it almost knocked him backward.

It hadn’t, of course. Instead, her slap had done that.

Immediately, Karl and Fritz, two of Jürgen’s best bodyguards, stomped forward. Jürgen held up a hand, easing them to heel. With every eye in the place glued on him, Leopold moved closer to Skye, who’d backed away, eyes wide with shock, before the sting on his cheek had even dimmed.