Page 59 of Royal Rising

“Fix things,” I clarify. “Defuse tempers. Settle people down.”

“I have three sisters.” She smiles as she wrings out the mop. “Someone has to be the level-headed one.”

“Yeah.” I reach for the bucket of dirty water at the same time as Edie does, which means our fingers touch—and that happens at the same moment as another thunder boom hits, which makes Edie jump. A splash of water tips out of the bucket.

“You really don’t like thunder.” I take the bucket as Edie mops up the spill. “Are you going to be okay tonight?”

“I’ll be fine. I have candles.”

I forgot that the power would still be off in her apartment and make a mental note to get the generator hooked up to the house. “I’ll come up and make sure you’re settled. I can stay with you.” It’s not unusual for us to hang out for an hour or so after closing, when we’re both wired and sleep will be slow to come.

“I’ll be fine,” Edie repeats.

“I won’t be.” She looks up, brown eyes wide and questioning. “Not unless I know you’re okay.”

Is she thinking of how I held her while we danced? I can still feel the curve of her hip under my hand.

Is she thinking of Mathias? Has she realized how much of a dick he is?

Has she changed her mind about marrying me?

That one is probably a long shot.

“You don’t like storms,” I point out when she doesn’t say anything. Edie always has something to say, and when she doesn’t, I’m forced to fill the silence and usually end up feeling like an idiot. “The girls’ll be giggling for a while and I don’t want to listen to them.”

“Good idea,” Dillon says, and I start. As impossible as it seems, I’ve forgotten my security detail is still here. “Let Chase deal with them. I’ll crash outside your door tonight.”

“You can’t do that,” Edie protests as we move into the kitchen. Dillon takes a last look around before hitting the light switch. “I have a couch.”

“Which I assume Maj will be sleeping on tonight, but if that’s not the case—” His expression is pure innocence, but Dillon’s eyes are dancing.

“I’ll pull a chair out into the hall,” she says quickly, and Dillon chuckles.

After a last check of the kitchen, we get ready to make the dash to the door of Edie’s apartment. Dillon starts out first, his head bald and bare, like he’s daring the rain to land on him. I push an umbrella into Edie’s hand before she makes a run though the alley as I lock the kitchen door behind us.

I’m halfway there when I remember the cat.

“Cat!” I shout, stopping to rummage around the garbage bins. The collection of cardboard from yesterday is floating in a puddle. “Kitty? Kitty, kitty—Cat! You out here? Goddam cat,” I mutter, hair dripping down my back.

Edie pauses, one hand on the door. “What are you doing?” she calls back.

“I need to get the cat,” I tell her but a crack of thunder masks my words. I motion for her to go inside.

Of course she doesn’t.

“What’s wrong?” Even with the umbrella, Edie’s hair is plastered to her head, ponytail drooping like it’s run out of energy. Her eyelashes are like starfish.

“Get inside,” I tell her.

“No. Why are—?”

“The cat,” I insist. “She should be inside.”

“She is,” Edie surprises me by saying. “I called Stella today and they came and got her. She’s safe. She’ll get her checked out by the vet and hopefully adopted. No more eating garbage for her.”

I stand in the rain and stare at Edie because she does it all. Everything. There is nothing this woman can’t do.

Then I grab her hand and run with her to the door, her burst of laughter following us.

---