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“What do you mean?” I practically hiss. “I was taking Liza for a walk and suddenly it was a paparazzi free-for-all out there. I’m fine, by the way, thanks for asking.”
He’s not wearing his sunglasses yet, but even so, he turns his head away, looking out the window so I can’t see his eyes. Silence fills the vehicle.
I frown at him, feeling anxious and all out of sorts, then try to get a better look at our driver in the rearview mirror. He’s wearing square glasses and has thinning gray hair. He reminds me a bit of Anderson Cooper. He gives my reflection a stiff smile and then goes back to driving. Of course, I have no idea where we are going or why. I’m just glad to be out of that situation, even though this one doesn’t feel that much better.
Safer? Yes.
Less awkward? No. Definitely not.
Meanwhile, Liza is shaking next to me.
“Poor girl,” I whisper to her, pulling her upper half onto my lap and holding her. “That wasn’t very fun, was it?”
I run my hand over the top of her head, trying to calm her, and feel Harrison’s eyes on me as he shifts in his seat.
“It’s okay, girl,” I say, continuing to soothe her.
“She doesn’t do well with new people?” Harrison asks.
I shoot him a sharp look. “I don’t think anyone does well with being accosted by the media the minute you step outside your property. Not her, certainly not me.”
He stares at me for a moment, his brow furrowed, as if what I just said confused him somehow. “I told you you’d be grateful for that gate.”
“Do you expect me to be grateful that I need that gate to begin with? No.”
He raises his chin and looks forward. “You signed the papers.”
“As if I could prevent you from moving there.”
One brow raises, but he still faces forward. “None of this was my choice. You knew this was going to happen.”
“Yeah, well, doesn’t mean I have to like it,” I tell him. It doesn’t escape me that I was quite okay with Monica and Eddie moving here up until this very moment, but that whole encounter with the media really rattled me.
I turn my attention back to Liza, who is calming down now, apparently not too worried that we’re being whisked away somewhere. “Where are we going, anyway?”
“To town.”
“Do I have a choice in this?”
He finally looks at me. “My apologies. Shall I have Matthew pull over and let you out?”
“So I can walk right back into that again? You know, I was trying to tell them that I’m just a local schoolteacher. Now they’ve seen me get in your car—they’re not going to believe it.”
“I suppose I could have just left you out there,” he says with a sigh, briefly examining his nails, which in turn makes me gawk at his hands. Damn him for having such nice hands.
I open my mouth and close it again. He did just save me from a brutal situation, but it’s a situation he’s put me in, inadvertently or not.
Instead of saying anything to that, I go back to stroking Liza. “So why are you heading to town?”
He clears his throat, looking back out the window as we drive out of Scott Point and pass by a ferry terminal. “Groceries.”
I stare dumbly at him for a second before I fight the smile on my face. “Groceries? They’re making you get the groceries? Isn’t that Agatha’s job?”
“She’s busy with the house, and I didn’t want to disturb her this morning,” he says curtly. “So I volunteered.”
I don’t know why I find it so funny. Perhaps because I can’t imagine Harrison in his pressed slick suit perusing the aisles of the Country Grocer at eight thirty in the morning. Then again, he did surprise me with his knowledge of baking yesterday.
His posture is stiff now, his shoulders held tensely, his jaw set on edge. I probably only find it funny because it seems to bother him so much.
I clear my throat. “Might I ask which grocery store you’re going to? We have two.”
“The one by the marina?” he asks, sounding unsure.
“It depends on what you’re getting.”
He makes a gruff sound of resignation and pulls out a slip of folded paper from his breast pocket, sticking it out with a flick of his fingers.
I reach over and pluck it from him. I unfold it and quickly read it over.
It’s written on royal stationery.
Organic apples.
Saltine crackers.
Leg of lamb.
Rosemary.
Potatoes.
Tetley tea.
Ingredients for a charcuterie board.
I flip it over. The list goes on and on. Seemingly not just for tonight’s meal, but at least a full week’s worth of groceries for at least four people.
“Okay, well,” I tell him, handing it back, “you’re going to want to go to a few different stores if you want it good enough to please the royals.”
