Page 32 of A Royal Disaster
“Big words for a small restaurant.”
Elena smirked up at him, mischief dancing in her dark eyes. “This is one time size doesn’t matter.”
A wave of desire crashed over him, but before he could respond, Elena stepped up to the window and greeted Andres in Spanish. Liam understood little of their rapid-fire exchange as he fished out his wallet to pay. When Andres gave him the total, he must’ve done a poor job masking his surprise at such an inexpensive meal, because Elena looked up at him and shrugged.
“What can I say? I’m a cheap date.” Then she turned back to Andres and reached for the paper bags he offered. “Gracias.”
Food in hand, they crossed the street to a tiny garden hemmed in by a wrought iron fence. The simple placard by the gate readLa Plaza Cultural. Although the fence was overgrown with trees and shrubs, it was topped with colorful metal flowers that made the otherwise forbidding vegetation feel inviting.
Elena stepped through the gate and Liam followed. The little garden didn’t look like much, just a small green space with a few benches, but as he followed Elena’s lead, the space seemed to open up, revealing a hidden gem that would’ve otherwise been easy to overlook in the sprawling city.
“This is incredible,” he said, inhaling the scent of freshly tilled dirt mingled with early spring blossoms.
“It’s a community garden,” Elena said, pointing to an area where several small plots were fenced off and greenery was just starting to push up through the ground. “People volunteer to manage the gardens, rainwater collection, composting, and even the artwork.”
“I had no idea places like this existed,” Liam admitted, feeling slightly abashed at his own ignorance. “What an incredible way to bring people together.”
Lena slipped her arm through his, steering him toward a small gazebo. “It’s one of my favorite places in the neighborhood. It’s so peaceful. And perfect for a picnic lunch.”
Better still, no paparazzi.
They settled into the gazebo and Elena opened the lunch bags, the scent of spiced meat and warm dough tantalizing him even as his stomach growled, reminding him he’d skipped breakfast in favor of an early morning trade call.
“Try the empanadilla first,” Elena said, handing him a flaky golden pastry shaped like a half moon. It looked like a smaller version of the meat pies that were once popular in Valeria—a throwback to their British roots—but smelled infinitely better. The dough was light and flaky and the edges had been pinched flat to keep the contents, whatever they were, inside.
Elena watched expectantly as he raised the proffered empanadilla to his lips.
The first bite melted on his tongue, the stuffed pastry spilling spicy chicken, cheese, and peppers into his mouth. He couldn’t identify the spices, but he was certain the palace chef wasn’t using anything like it in his meals at home. Something he’d have to rectify when he returned, because Elena was right, he was going to need more cuchifritos in his life.
He chewed slowly, savoring the complex flavor as Elena pulled another empanadilla from the bag and took a bite herself. “Mmm. So. Good.”
He couldn’t argue, but even better than the heavenly pastry was the look of absolute abandon on Elena’s face. She relished each bite, and whether it was the food, the atmosphere, or better still—the company—her joy was evident.
“You may have been right about ruining my taste buds for all other cuisine,” Liam admitted, reaching in the bag to grab another empanadilla and a napkin. “We don’t have anything like this in Valeria, and I can’t imagine going another twenty-eight years without cuchifritos. Think I could convince Andres to give me the recipe?”
Elena threw her head back and laughed, her dark hair cascading down her back in shiny waves he ached to fist his hands in.
“I think it’s unlikely.” She reached into the bag and pulled out another pastry, this one darker and shaped like an oversized ladyfinger. “If you like the empanadillas, you’re going to love the alcapurrias. Here.”
She offered him the pastry and, realizing his hands were full, she raised it to his mouth so he could take a bite. It was a strangely intimate gesture, and their eyes locked, a flush blooming on Elena’s cheeks as he opened his mouth.
The savory beef fritter was delicious, but it paled in comparison to the woman who held it. Who was he kidding? The only thing he wanted to sample right now was Elena’s lips. He’d been too long without a taste of her sweetness and he craved it as he’d never craved anything else in his life. He still remembered the way she’d melted against him, her curves as soft and luscious as he’d imagined, as she’d poured herself into their kiss.
Just the memory of it was enough to steal his breath.
But this was business, not pleasure, and he needed to remember it if he didn’t want to find himself locked in a loveless political marriage. The problem was, the more time he spent with Elena, the more apparent it became he was living a half-life. He gave 100 percent to his royal duties, always putting Valeria and her people first, which left little time or energy to indulge his own desires. But with Elena at his side, he was finally getting a taste of what life could be if he were afforded the same emotional freedom and opportunities for unfettered joy the rest of Valeria enjoyed.
As if sensing his dark thoughts, Elena looked away, her gaze landing on the small, rock-lined pond. “I guess we should talk about the broadcast.” With a sigh, she dropped the half-eaten alcapurria back into the bag and set it aside.
Liam wiped his hands on a napkin, striving for casual. He would much rather kiss her into oblivion but, since that option was off the table, talking would have to do. It was practically poetic justice.
Nothing could kill a hard-on faster than ex talk.
“Chad and I dated for six months. We weren’t super serious, but I guess some part of me thought we might get there eventually.” A bird landed on the gazebo rail and Elena watched as it hopped along the edge before dropping to the ground to peck at something in the dirt. “I should’ve known better. God knows there were plenty of red flags.” She huffed out a breath, her nostrils flaring. “Actually, that’s being generous. The truth is, dating Chad was like dating a man-child. It was kind of fun at first. We went to Comic-Con and hit up some great bands, but when things didn’t go his way, he would throw these tantrums and—”
She paused and raised a hand as if to silence herself.
“You know what? It doesn’t matter. None of what he said today is true.” She chewed her bottom lip. “Well, except for the part about him suing me. That part’s true. Obviously,” she added, toying with the hem of her white blouse. “I probably should have told you before. Or told Fin, I guess. Probably would’ve helped with strategy, but I never imagined it would come to this. I can’t believe I ever dated that pendejo. Seriously, who goes on television to humiliate their ex like that? Did you see the picture? Oh God. The whole city’s seen it. I’ll never be able to show my face at Sweet Celebrations again. First the crazy donut slinger, now this?”
