Page 31 of Savannah Royals
“I love secrets!” Daniel’s brown eyes light up. “You have to tell us. Come on, out with it.”
“Okay…” I draw out the word as I think. I’ve got something prepared, of course, but I’d hoped it wouldn’t come to this.
All three men are expectant.
“My friend Florence thinks you’re plumb swell!” I blurt. Daniel and Harry both start heckling.
“FlorenceVanderbilt?” Harry repeats. “She thinks anyone with money in the bank isplumb swell. Me, Daniel, Matthew…”
“Yeah, that secret doesn’t amount to a hill of beans,” Daniel says once his laughter subsides. “Flo and I have been on the make—and then some—foryears.” He winks. “But thanks, Katarina. I’ll take it under advisement. If she’s interested in coming back for seconds, who am I to refuse?”
I fight the urge to roll my eyes. It’s undoubtedly time to depart.
“Matthew?” I tighten my grip on his arm. “Shall we step outside?”
He nods. “Have fun tomorrow, fellas. Good seeing you.”
“You mentioned last week you like the gardens, right?” I prattle as we exit the billiard room. “Have you seen them at night before?”
“Yes, loads of times. My mom works here, remember?”
“Oh, that’s right.” I sigh dramatically. “Never mind. It’s getting late, and apparently you have to work another absurd shift tomorrow, so…”
“So…?”
“So I should say goodnight to you.”
“But I still have one question.”
I lean against him in exasperation. “Haven’t you tortured me enough this evening?”
He laughs. “You did fine. Exceeded expectations, remember?”
“Yes, and embarrassed myself all over the place.”
“You didn’t embarrass yourself. Honesty isn’t embarrassing. It’s refreshing.”
“I was talking about our game of pool.”
“Oh, well…” He pulls a face. “I suppose itwasa tad humiliating.”
“Humiliating?” I repeat, appalled.
“Just a tad, I said.”
“Indeed.” I turn to face him. “So you see, Matthew, I’ve had quite a trying evening. Unless you’re offering a very stiff drink before asking me yetanotherpotentially scandalous question, I’m going to take my leave.”
“I can get you a stiff drink.”
“Where?” I cross my arms, calling his bluff.
“My mom’s office. She keeps a bottle of whiskey in the bottom drawer of her desk.”
“Lady Genevieve?” I gasp. “Surely not.”
“It’s mostly for my dad when he visits, but it’s in there.” His mischievous smile is back, tugging at something deep in my stomach.
“We shouldn’t…” I say.
