Page 6 of Guarding the Princess
“Yeah, sorry about that. I got a little hungry.”
“What’s with three muffins though? Seems more than a little snack. Those things are like five hundred calories a piece.”
His eyes widen and I try desperately to hold on to my anger. I don’t want to stand here and crack jokes with him about his poor dietary choices. I’m too upset with the general direction of my life for that.
“I have a healthy appetite, I guess. Maybe too healthy.”
I scoff. “There’s nothing healthy about it. Are you trying to get diabetes?”
He huffs out a laugh and the sound shifts something in my chest. “Definitely not. Thank you for watching out for my waistline. I’ll try to restrict myself to one next time.” He pauses, the smile frozen on his face. It’s a nice smile, even with the patronizing hints around the edges. “Next break, do you want to sit down? We have some things to discuss.”
That doesn’t sound good. I glance around at the mostly empty coffee shop. Plopping down on the chair across from him, I say, “No. I’d rather you just tell me now.”
His smile grows. “You sure? That lady doesn’t look like the type to give two breaks in a row.” He gestures to Stella.
I tilt my head. “Good thing she works for me.”
His eyes change, like it never occurred to him that I’d be the manager of this shop. He recovers quickly and gets down to business. “In that case, I can verify I work for the Queen. Your mother. I was hired to make sure you stay safe. But I just got a message today that I’m to prepare you to leave the country. To fly back home. Are you aware of those plans?”
My heart pounds despite my efforts to believe I’ll find a way out of it. “Since I was born.”
He just stares at me, trying to figure me out, I’m sure. “And I assume Zeke is out of the picture?”
I rear my head back. A wave of shame swirls through me. So he did hear that debacle. “You heard?”
He nods once, his eyes soft. The look shoots steel through my spine. I don’t need his sympathy. Who cares what one bodyguard thinks of me? Time to redirect.
“What’s down with the American accent?”
He draws his dark eyebrows together. “I’m sorry?”
“You’re American?”
He nods again while my brain swirls.
“She’s never hired an American before. I wonder why now.”
“Probably because Johan refused to bring you back. Got too friendly. Decided he liked you. The Queen probably wanted to hire an American who wouldn’t care about the royalty of a tiny country they’d never heard of before.”
His explanation hits me like a bucket of ice water. “Johan didn’t quit because he was moving to be closer to his daughter and future grandchildren?”
His eyes go all soft again. Anger burns up my chest. I’m so sick of being the last one to know about things. To never have any say over the direction of my own life. I loved Johan. He’d been with me since I left Regora. He’d become my friend, always giving me space and never being too intrusive. To think he’d had to quit because of me broke my heart.
“I’m Ryker, by the way. Ryker Duke.” He stretches his arm across the table and for a brief moment I feel some weird superstition I shouldn’t touch him. That if I do, everything will change. Which is stupid. It’s a handshake. Nothing more.
I grip his hand, feeling the strength in him by how gently he squeezes back. The callouses on his palm tell me he’s a hard worker. Glancing down at our clasped hands, I see a large white scar up his forearm, marring his tan skin.
“What happened?”
Ryker hasn’t let go of my hand, his own gaze sweeping down to see what I’m talking about. When he realizes I mean his scar, he withdraws his hand in a hurry.
He shrugs. “Knife fight. Comes with the territory of being a bodyguard. I’m totally fine now though so don’t worry.”
“Huh.” None of my bodyguards had ever gotten into a fight around me before. Were knife fights common when guarding someone? I blink the questions away. I’m getting distracted by muscly forearms and eyes of steel that shift color.
“I would appreciate if you keep my identity quiet. I haven’t told anyone my real name or who I am. If you blow my cover, I’ll run, I promise you that.”
He sits up taller like his height will intimidate me. He clearly doesn’t know me yet, or the confidence I’ve been building for the last two and a half years.
