Page 36 of Heartbreaker

She clutches it to her chest. “Thank you! I love it!”

“You’re very welcome. Would you like to take a picture?”

“Can we, Uncle Royal? Since you writed a song together?”

“Wrote.” We gently correct her in unison and, for the first time, our eyes meet.

His are shrouded and wary, which makes no sense since he’s the one who snuck out like a thief in the night.

“Since you wrote a song together!” She claps her hands happily.

“I’ll take it, Ms. Cantrell.” Larry holds out his hand to Royal who looks at it blankly for a beat before opening his phone, typing in the passcode, and then handing it to him.

I get to my feet, and Royal comes to stand next to me.

Good-golly-Miss-Molly, just having the side of his arm brush against mine makes goosebumps break out on my flesh.

What the heck is wrong with me when it comes to this guy? He showed me that I was nothing more than a notch on his bedpost, so there is no reason for me to still get all tingly inside when he’s near me.

Then the jerk puts his arm around me—the one with the hand that doesn’t work properly—and I suspect it’s to keep it hidden. The fingers curl a little when he’s not using it, so I’m guessing he’s self-conscious about it. I turn my body to a slight angle, further hiding his hand as Frankie stands up on the chair.

“We don’t stand on furniture, Tater Tot,” Royal says quietly.

She sighs dramatically and gets down. “But now I’m too short.”

“I’ve got you, kiddo.” I reach down and pick her up, settling her on the hip where Royal’s bad hand is loosely resting.

He pulls it back.

Two birds, one metaphorical stone.

We take a bunch of pictures and then the crowd is in another uproar so I set Frankie down and she runs to the railing to see what’s going on.

“A fight!” she exclaims. “It’s Uncle Banks! Oh, no.” She immediately covers her eyes.

“It’s okay,” I say, moving toward her without thinking. I pull her against my side and stroke her hair. “You must know it’s part of the game and usually not real.”

“I know,” she whispers against my hip, “but it’sUncle Banks. Auntie Aspen doesn’t like it when he fights either.”

I bet.

“See, it’s all done,” I whisper several moments later, kneeling down again and hugging her. “And he’s sitting in the penalty box, safe and sound.”

“Okay.” She lets out a little sigh of relief and drops her hands.

“We should go, Tater Tot. Ms. Cantrell has other people to talk to.”

“She does?” Frankie looks around. “Who?”

I bite back a laugh. “It’s okay,” I tell Royal. “Shecan watch the game with me.” I emphasize the word she just enough for him to get my meaning, hopefully without Frankie catching on.

“Yay! Can I, Uncle Royal? Pretty please with sugar and sprinkles on top?”

His lips thin, annoyance practically seeping out of him, but it’s gone almost as quickly as it came. “We have to go, Tater Tot. We’ve taken enough of Ms. Cantrell’s time. I’m sure she’svery busywriting new songs.”

I frown.

Was that a jab of some kind?

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