Page 9 of Royal Rising

I smile back.

It was nice of Dillon to drive me, saving my carefully straightened hair from frizzing in the drizzle of rain.

The storm is almost on us, giving off a holiday vibe along with rain and high winds.

The people of Battle Harbour react to storms in two ways—they either hunker down at home, as my dad says, or they hunker down someplace else.

Which is why every table at Nonna’s is full. Everyone who decided they wanted somewhat authentic Italian for dinner during a storm looks up with undisguised interest as I walk in.

I smile, I wave, I call hello to a few. When I take the seat Mathias holds out for me, the whole place goes silent.

“You seem to be popular,” Mathias murmurs with a half-smile after Renaldo brings bread and water and promises we’ll love the juicy, jammy red he’ll bring us.

He’s extremely good looking.

Mathias, that is. Renaldo is five feet tall with a compact figure and old enough to be my grandfather. I’ve known him since I was a little girl and Dad used to bring us here for Mom’s birthday.

I can’t get my mind off Mathias’s good looks, especially how his blue eyes are studying me from across the table. Thesmall table, which means Mathias is close enough to touch.

His forearm especially—that appendage rests casually on the white tablecloth.

Unfortunately, his sleeves are long despite the summer heat and buttoned at the wrist.

I’m a sucker for a nice arm. Biceps, primarily, but I like a nicely muscled forearm as well. Hands, too; tanned and strong and slightly calloused to show they’re no stranger to hard work.

I blame Kalle for my arm fetish.

Mathias’s hands look soft and pale, suggesting he doesn’t do much outside.

It’s no matter; he’s still very attractive with a jaw squarer than most houses. His hair looks bronze rather than blond in the warm lighting, and his eyes are as blue as the summer sky. And the breadth of his shoulders?

Smaller than Kalle’s.

Not that Kalle is the man I compare other men to, but I do spend quite a lot of time with him and can’t help but notice his shoulders.

The whispered comments are still flowing and I hope people in here have more to talk about than me. “Do you ever get used to the attention?” I ask Mathias, pleating the tablecloth.

“Am I getting the attention?” Mathias demands, hand pressed to his chest. “I think it’s you who have caught their eye. You lookamazing, by the way. My apologies for not telling you the moment you walked in.”

I drop my gaze because as cheesy as the remark is, it hits the target. “Thank you. You don’t need to apologize.”

“I’m glad you agreed to dinner.” Mathias’s voice is radio-DJ deep.

“I’m glad you invited me. I have to eat, don’t I?”

I slowly exhale as we study the menu. I don’t know Mathias, so that’s why this is awkward. I’m here to get to know him, like a fact-finding mission. If I look at it like that rather than a date witnessed by an entire restaurant, maybe I’ll be able to relax and enjoy myself.

From the next table, Mrs. Powell catches my eye, gives me a big smile and doesn’t even try to hide her thumbs-up.

Thankfully, Mathias is looking elsewhere than the vicinity of Mrs. Powell. “This seems like a nice place.”

“They have really good pasta.” I shake out my napkin and put it on my lap. “Not surprising, since it’s an Italian restaurant and they must make a lot of pasta.”

“Have you ever been to Italy?” he asks politely.

“I haven’t been anywhere. Well, I’ve been to Canada twice, but that doesn’t really count because it’s right next door. My sister went to France for her honeymoon, and my girlfriend Kaia wanted me to go to New York City with her, but that was when my mom was sick and my other sister lost the baby and—” I come to a screeching stop. “I’ll stop talking now.”

To my surprise, Mathias doesn’t seem fazed by my verbal diarrhea which only ever comes out when I’m out of my comfortzone. And this is very much out of my comfort zone. “Have you ever wanted to travel?” he asks.

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