Page 10 of Guarding the Princess
“Oh? Who’s your brother?”
Well, shoot. I hadn’t meant to say that out loud. I don’t like to talk about my family. Not with strangers.
“Um, Max Duke. San Francisco Niners.”
His smile grows. “Dude, I know Max. I like that guy. He’s your brother?”
“Yeah, last I checked.”
His grin turns into a laugh and he slaps me on the back. Turning to Charlotte he says, “I like this guy.”
Charlotte’s cheeks are pink and she’s nodding. I’m so confused right now. I get the feeling I’m not supposed to mention I’m her bodyguard, but if I’m not that, who am I supposed to be? I don’t want to lie to Jake, especially now I know he’s friendly with my brother.
“I hate to just crash and run, but I have to get to a meeting with a potential sponsor. Is it okay if I come back a little later to pick up Rhys?” Jake pulls his wife into him, like he can’t stand the thought of a minute away from her. If my memory serves, he proposed to her out on the field after a game, making every female viewer’s heart pitter-patter.
Charlotte assures him she’ll be fine here with us. The couple whispers to each other and kiss goodbye an inordinately long time, while Charlotte and I avoid each other’s gaze like the plague. This party is quickly turning uncomfortable. Maybe I should have waited out in the truck after all.
Jake finally leaves, delivering another thump on my back on his way out. What’s up with baseball players and that weird male greeting ritual? My brother does the same thing and it drives me crazy. The two ladies start chatting like I’m not in the room, so I wander off, my stomach taking me toward the spread of food in the kitchen.
I may not have been happy with the delivery method, but the food options are out of this world. Filling my plate, I have a seat at the table and dive in. I catch part of the conversation happening in the living room, mostly Rhys checking in with Charlotte to see how she’s doing with the breakup, but I tune most of it out. She wasn’t into that guy. She probably only saw him to avoid having to go back to Regora.
The chicken quesadillas with the soft white cheese in the middle—and get this: french friesinsidethe quesadilla—are the best I’ve ever had. I dab another slice into the guacamole and my eyes nearly roll back in my head. Forget blueberry muffins. I want to overconsume these quesadillas until Charlotte yells at me.
My ears perk up when I hear Rhys whispering my name. I put down the quesadilla with a look of longing and try to listen closer, but it’s no use. They’re whispering softly now that the conversation moved on to me. I can’t imagine what Charlotte is telling Rhys. How can she keep her cover and admit I’m her bodyguard? Normal people don’t have bodyguards. Maybe she’s telling her we’re dating. The thought is oddly thrilling even though logically she and I don’t make any kind of sense.
My attempted eavesdropping is put to an end as the doorbell chimes, indicating more people have arrived. I hop up and wave for Charlotte to stay back. I don’t care if Rhys is in the room or if I have to forego the quesadillas from heaven the rest of the night, I have a job to do and keeping Charlotte’s secret identity under wraps isn’t it.
The door swings open to show five people crowding into the doorway, shouts of hello for Charlotte as they stumble in. Charlotte pushes past me and hugs one of the girls, so I assume she knows these people. Introductions happen but I can’t recall any of the names. I barely get the door closed, when the doorbell rings again. Nobody stops to see who’s at the door, so I get it again, letting in another horde of people, even louder than the first.
The next hour is more of the same: let more people in, get more worried about how many Charlotte invited. The stereo cranks on and I swear I feel the beat of the music in my skull. The small apartment is packed now and I’ve lost sight of the princess. I decide to abandon the door to go find her, pushing my way through a sea of people, irritation leading the way.
“Who ate all the quesadillas?” some idiot yells out over the crowd in the kitchen.
I wince, but quickly let the guilt go. Yeah, it was mostly me, but I’m pretty sure I’m invited, unlike that guy who looks like he thinks this is some kind of frat party. My eyes dart around the room, scanning for long, curly blonde hair and a smile that lights up the room. She’s not in the kitchen.
Elbowing my way back again, I head toward the living room, not seeing her there either. A loud crash grabs my attention. A vase—or what used to be a glass vase—is now in a million pieces on the floor by the entry table. Everyone disperses, no one taking ownership of the mistake or bothering to pick up the glass shards. The total disregard for common safety is the last straw.
That’s it.
I’m shutting down this party.
The stereo system resides in the living room and is my new target. I stalk over and jab my finger on the power button, instantly shutting the music off and earning everyone’s groans. I’m seeing the out-of-control party through a haze of red. Charlotte’s complete lack of concern for her safety is driving me crazy. I’m starting to wonder if her last bodyguard quit for reasons he didn’t divulge to me.
“Party’s over, folks! Time to clear out!” I shout over the buzz of people complaining about the abrupt stop to their party.
Rounding up party people is like herding cats. Some people grab a drink to go and one guy even takes the bowl of salsa and bag of chips with him. Eventually, people start moving to the door and I dart into the hallway to look for Charlotte.
I find her in her bedroom, arguing with some guy who looks like he hit the bar hard before coming to Charlotte’s place. He grabs her arm and I don’t need to see anything else to know this guy is trouble. I leap across the room to shove him back. He stumbles and almost goes down, his equilibrium off even without my interference.
“Ryker!” Charlotte’s voice has a distinct warble to it that has nothing to do with her accent.
Putting myself between her and the guy who needs to leave in the next three seconds or I’m going to seriously escalate the issue, she crowds into my back, clutching my shirt. I feel ten feet tall, able to slay dragons to save the princess. Or at least drunk guys half my size.
“Charlotte?” Rhys runs into the room, eyeing the situation quickly and running over to grab Charlotte in a bear hug behind me.
“Dude. You need to leave. Party’s over.” I hike a thumb over my shoulder to the open door. My one and only warning.
The drunk guy eyes me up and down while swaying on his feet. He must have at least two brain cells still rubbing together because he pivots and stumbles out without a word, leaving me with two scared women.
