Page 29 of Some Like It Royal

“Okay, there’s related and then there’srelated.”She shook her head and carried her coffee over to the sofa, curling up on one corner of it. The morning sunshine was a perfect complement to the red in her hair. She looked both delicate and delectable.

Have you slept with her yet?Martin’s question rang through his mind and he pushed the lascivious thoughts that accompanied it away. She’d made the no-sex rule clear. He would respect it. Sitting on the corner of the bed, he studied her. “And the difference is?”

“If you met a man tomorrow whose father and your father were related, which would then make you two relatives—is he automatically family to you? Or just some guy on the street who happens to share some DNA strands?” She followed her question with a sip of coffee, her gaze somber and serious.

It was a fair question. He took a swallow of the hot brew. “That’s not an easy question to answer. Yes, we would be cousins of some sort. But he’s still a stranger.”

“Exactly, so all those people that I’m supposed to be related to. They’re names in a book—grainy pictures on the web. They are reels and videos on TikTok or meme’d to death. I don’tknowthem and they certainly don’tknowme. It’s like studying for a history test. It should mean something, but it doesn’t.” Despite her easy manner, he heard the pensive note in her voice.

“Well, do any of them look like your father? Resemblance is a key to imprinting for some. My dad looked like his dad and I look like them. I see myself when I look at the family.”

“I don’t know.” She shrugged and the sadness in her voice crept into her eyes. “I barely remember what my father looked like anymore. I try—but it’s like an out-of-focus image.”

His chest tightened. “You don’t have any pictures?”

Lips tight, she shook her head slowly. “No. I wasn’t allowed to take much with me when I went into the system. Only what was necessary and I could carry. There was a fire when I was twelve—or maybe it was thirteen? Mrs. Johnson. Sweet lady, but a terrible cook.” A bittersweet humor turned up the corners of her mouth. “She was trying to wrangle kids and get dinner ready. The stove top caught on fire and she tried to douse it with water, but it was a grease fire.”

Daniel winced. Pour water on a grease fire and it spreads faster. “Alyx, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Her little shrug belied the words. “My room was right over the top of the kitchen. When the fire went up the wall, I lost most of my stuff. I didn’t really care about the clothes, and I’ve never had very many things, but I’d left the photo album on the bed.”

She didn’t mention the beaten-up bear in her car, but he was glad that hadn’t been consumed in the fire. “They couldn’t salvage any?”

“Nope.” She lifted her coffee mug in rueful salute. “Most of them were from before digital got popular and they’d never been scanned in to anything. There were entire envelopes of negatives and they melted. I was upset, but in a month I was on to my next foster and there wasn’t much else I could do. My caseworker tried to track down some pictures for me, but then she was reassigned and my new caseworker was a harried, overworked guy with a lot of problems. Finding old pictures just didn’t seem to qualify. We were too busy finding me the right place to sleep.”

The foster system needed a lot of work. The staff was underpaid, the children numerous and real long-term homes an elusive myth for many of the kids. Knowing that intellectually and seeing the raw evidence in the pain she tried to hide were completely different. Sitting forward, elbows on his knees, he made a decision.

“Forget the homework for today. You were born in Woodland.”

She lifted her eyebrows. “Yeah.”

“Your parents’ house was there. What happened to all the stuff in it? I mean they had to have furniture, knickknacks, possessions of some kind.”

“I don’t know. No one really said anything to me about the house or the stuff in it, just that I had to pack a bag.” She waved a hand, as though trying to clear a cobweb from the air in front of her. “And it doesn’t matter. It was years ago. What things they might have had were probably sold or dragged off.”

He didn’t miss the crease of tension knitting her brows together. “Well, we can find out. It’s a short flight to Sacramento. We rent a car and we go look.”

“We can’t just fly to Sacramento.” She lowered the coffee cup and gaped at him,

Decided, he stood and finished his own drink before setting the cup on the dresser. “Why not?”

“Because you have a job and I have homework to do.”

“No, I have a company, which means I make the rules, and I just decided to give myself the day off. You have homework to learn more about your family. I think finding out what happened to your house and your stuff qualifies.” He walked into the closet before she could respond then returned with a shirt. After tugging it on, he went looking for his phone.

“But what about your Japanese deal? I know you were up with them late last night.”

True, and he’d been exhausted when he first woke up. But this was a problem he could solve and if he couldn’t get her all the answers, she deserved to have someone looking for the pieces so she could put them back together. “My deal is fine. The software is debugged and working well within the parameters they require. They’re rebuilding their database. Let’s go rebuild yours—besides, I know this great Italian place. We can get Stromboli so good that your mouth will water and your eyes weep.”

He traded out the work slacks for a more comfortable pair of jeans and grabbed a well-worn pair of sneakers. Wallet in his back pocket, keys in the front. She was still sitting on the sofa when he sat down to pull on some socks.

“Move it, Alyx. Get some shoes. We can get breakfast on the way to the airport.” He speed-dialed Lucy and tucked the phone between his shoulder and ear. “Good morning and yes, I know it’s before office hours. I’ll put a fifty in the jar. Can you get me two tickets to Sacramento on the first available flight that leaves within—” he juggled to glance at his watch, “—the next ninety minutes? If there aren’t any, just charter me a plane for the day.”

“Of course, Daniel. Name of your passenger?”

“Alyx Dagmar.” Socks on, he pulled on a shoe and began lacing it up. He motioned with his eyes for Alyx to get moving and she finally scooted off the sofa. Her clothes and shoes were still in her own room.

He would have a word with Theresa about making some room in his closet. She shouldn’t have to dart back and forth between rooms.

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