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“I take it the two of you don’t cook often?” she asked.
“I couldn’t find my way around a kitchen,” he said. “My brother, on the other hand, is a different story.”
“Uncle Alex makes the best treats,” said Penelope. “I never thought to join him in the kitchen. I’m surprised he’s such a good cook. He hates math.”
Penelope turned her attention back to the baking cookies. Leo turned his attention back to the kindergarten teacher. She stepped once more on the foot handle of the trash, chucking in the swept flour. Knowing their time was almost up, he took a moment to add a few more details to the memory of her.
She was across the room, but her sweetness overwhelmed him. Or was that the cookies baking in the oven? He wanted to go to her, inhale her, and see for himself. He wanted a few more minutes with her, in this story world he found himself in whenever she was around.
The oven bell dinged.
“They’re ready.” Penelope clapped her hands.
Leo knew enough to don an oven mitt before retrieving the tray. Once the baking sheet was on the counter, Penelope immediately reached for one of the golden brown treats.
“No, darling.”
“No, sweetie.”
Both Leo and Esme reached out to stay Penelope’s hand at the same time, and their fingers wound up colliding into each other’s. Esme took her hand back. But he didn’t miss the shudder that went through her shoulders. It thrilled him that he was having an effect on her because he had shuddered too.
“They need time to cool,” said Esme. “And you need to wash your hands and put away the dust pan. Not in that order.”
Penelope did as she was told.
“I should probably get going,” said Esme. “I was told I only had an hour audience with her highness, and I’m sure my pumpkin’s coming soon.”
“Don’t you want to taste the fruits of your labor?” said Leo.
“I already did,” Esme tilted her head, looking around him at Penelope washing her hands in the sink. “The sparkle that goes off in a kid’s eyes when they learn something new or get a concept that eluded them; that’s my currency. Lame, huh?”
“I find it remarkable,” he said.
Esme tore her gaze from Penelope to look up at him. There it was again, the sparkle in her eyes. He hadn’t imagined it. It was very real.
“Your majesty, what are you doing!”
Chapter Ten
Esme was caught in Leo’s eyes. Correction, King Leo’s eyes. He was gazing down at her like something from a storybook. Just the simple brush of his fingers had sent shivers down her spine, just like she’d read about. Holy elves, was she falling in love? Was she living her own real live storybook romance and with a King, no doubt?
He’d come to her rescue not one, but two times all in one day. Sure the last rescue was flour induced. But heck, they counted. Kitchen disasters were the true danger of the twenty-first century woman. Just ask Gretel.
There was definitely something there. She was fooling herself to think otherwise. There was an attraction. One he clearly hadn’t been expecting, but she could tell he felt it too by the lingering looks, by the tingle she knew they both experienced, by the way he caught his breath when he’d held her close.
They had a thing.
She knew the signs. She read enough hardback storybooks and watched enough British dramas to know when she saw the signs, there was a thing. And these were clearly blaring signs of thingness.
So, of course, now would be the perfect time for the villain to make an entrance.
Giles looked positively horrified at the sight in the kitchen. They’d done a pretty good job getting the flour up, though she was certain the cleaning staff wouldn’t think so. But for two royals who had probably never lifted a finger much less a broom or cleaning rag a day in their lives, they’d done a pretty fair job.
Giles wasn’t looking at the white streaks on the counter or floor. He was glaring at Esme.
If she hadn’t just been in Leo’s arms, if she hadn’t just been caught up in his gaze, if she hadn’t been counting the various signs of the thing, she would’ve felt like an insignificant speck under his narrowed gaze. But as it was, Esme was walking on a cloud, and she was not about to come down by … whoever Giles was to Leo. Not his brother, perhaps a valet? That was still a thing, right?
Giles’s razor sharp gaze cut from Esme to Leo. It did not soften. The man must not understand the word job security. “Your guests are waiting, your majesty.”
