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Somewhere on a sub-Reddit, someone opened up a betting pool on whether or not their body cams would capture them in a compromising position. Melanie hoped that Queenie, in her wisdom, would shut that down but to her dismay Queenie was immediately on board, kicking $500 into the kitty, much to everyone’s glee.
Even worse, another tweet pinged across millions of screens worldwide:
Queenie Abara@queenieabara 9 m
Will pay $1,000 to the first Minion who can post a photo of Princess Melanie and the dashing Prince Corbin kissing.
Ready, set, GO!
Melanie yelped,almost dropping her phone. She was standing in the hallway on the upper floor, where she and Corbin were overseeing major repairs to the roof—or, rather, where she was watching Corbin boss around a half dozen roofers, taking a break from bossing around the carpenters downstairs, who were busy tearing up the rotting, uneven flooring in preparation for installing a beautiful oak parquet. It was a finishing touch that she and Corbin had hotly debated, going through almost two dozen samples of wood and arguing back and forth about the merits of this one or that. Eventually, he had conceded and she had won. The spirited battle of opinions had left her feeling almost winded, but certainly exhilarated.
The two of them had worked so well together over these past few days, falling into stride easily, to the point where their words jumbled over each other’s in their haste to share their ideas. Corbin had proven to be easy to work with, even though it was clear that he had begrudgingly taken on the job in the first place. Sometimes, he became so excited and passionate about a new plan they’d hatched, or when putting forward a new idea, that she wondered if he was glad that he had.
And now this….
Corbin heard her yelp and called across the room, “You okay?”
Instead of answering, she hastily tried to stuff her phone into her jeans, but it was too late. A million cats had already leaped out of a million bags and were prowling the phones of Minions worldwide. One of the roofers looked as though he’d received a notification, pulled out his phone and examined it, and then gave both her and Corbin an amused grin. He said something in French to the man working next to him, and they both sniggered.
Corbin began to make his way over to her. “What?” he asked, looking concerned.
“Nothing,” she began almost churlishly, but a beep from his phone distracted him.
He looked down, and then gave her a perplexed grimace. “That was my mother texting me. She seems very excited, and her girlfriends are bombarding her with texts and calls. Apparently you and I are a thing?”
“Says everybody but me.” She rolled her eyes. “Have you seen Queenie’s latest tweet?”
“No, but now I am dying to.” He poked at his phone for a moment, and then began to laugh.
“This is funny to you?” she burst out. “There is a bounty on our heads.”
He touched her lightly on the shoulder. “Don’t be dramatic. That is just Queenie, having some fun….”
There was another snigger coming from up above. She looked up and to her horror, she noticed that one of the roofers had his phone out and was surreptitiously aiming it at them, no doubt hoping that she and Corbin would be so swept up with passion that they would spontaneously jump each other’s bones right here on a dusty floor that was littered with broken roof tiles and other debris.
She groaned and squeezed her eyes shut.
Corbin spoke sharply to the men in clipped French, and immediately, their phones disappeared. “Come,” he said gently. “Let us walk.”
“Not if they think you and I are going to pounce on each other behind the rose bushes,” she ground out irritably.
He shook his head. “I doubt that. That would be terribly uncomfortable.”
She scowled at him but began to walk anyway. “You think this is funny.”
His grin was broad, showing even white teeth against his tanned skin. “A little, oui.”
They walked past Mr. Happy, who was his usual excited self. She frowned at the satyr as they passed. He was, after all, at the root of this mess. In going viral, he had turned the eyes of the world upon her.
Slipping an arm into hers, Corbin led her into the gardens, where more work crews had already begun to toil. Immediately, she was aware of the sensation of his contact, the heat of his flesh. Conscious of just how tall and imposing he was, and how easy his gait. She didn’t need this, this stupid awareness, especially not with a thousand-dollar bounty hanging over their heads, betting on their attraction for one another.
Well, alleged attraction. Non-existent attraction, to be honest. Because she was not falling for this. No matter how electric his presence was, she’d die rather than give in.
But Queenie’s tweet was like being told not to think about an elephant. The very last thing she would allow the Minions to have was an alleged, theoretical, not-real-in-the-least kiss. But that fact did not stop her from thinking about it. Imagining it. Fantasizing, even. In full color, with great clarity. So intense that she could almost physically feel his lips on hers, and his broad chest pressed against her.
Uh, nope.
What was French for ‘nope’? She promised herself she would look that up.
