Page 47 of Royal Agenda

“Are you certain we will not be arrested?” Ryker asked, a spraypaint can in hand as he watched Grace make a large red swoop across the freshly painted white concrete. He wore a white apron over his shorts and polo shirt. Grace had a matching one over her faded and frayed jean shorts and distressed tee. Her long, tan legs looked amazing in those shorts and he had a hard time not stareing.

“I promise. This is totally legit.” She consulted the laminated sheet in her hand and then made another, smaller red swoop a foot below the first one.

She used the back of her hand to wipe a loose piece of hair out of her face. She missed and so he stepped forward and tucked it behind her ear, never wanting to miss the opportunity to touch her.

The way Grace let him in, into her space, into her heart, and into her life, was a gift he did not take for granted. She leaned into his touch and fell into his kisses, and he was lost for this woman in every way.

They had dinner with Nancy twice this week, ate a picnic on the beach with four pesky flamingos, and met for smoothies for breakfast.

And it was not enough to satiate his need for this woman. Every part of him cried out when he saw her: Mine!

He wanted her all to himself. He wanted every smile. Every laugh. Every wrinkle that developed over years of togetherness. And most especially, every kiss throughout all of time. If he had a time machine, he would go back and snatch any kiss she had given another and hold it in his heart.

He wanted to commit to this woman. Which was a strange sensation for a man who believed no power was stronger than his loyalty to king and country. The desire was most definitely at odds with his current predicament.

He had not solved the problem of how to marry her without telling her his real identity. Yes, he knew that marriage was probably far down the road and that Grace was still in the early stages of their relationship–but he was a strategic planner by nature and a prince by training, and thinking three steps ahead was not an option but a necessity.

Ryker took out his phone and took her picture.

“What are you doing?” she giggled as she switched out paint from red to light blue.

“I want evidence for when the police arrive.” He took another picture of her incredulous smile.

“Stop.” She playfully slapped his arm. “We aren’t going to be arrested.” She paused and then lifted a shoulder. “Besides, a first offense is a two-hundred dollar fine–totally worth it.”

His mouth fell open. “No. No offense!”

Laughing, she leaned into his side and lifted up to press a kiss just under his jaw. He gulped. “I’m teasing. Come on–we’re helping Diamond Cove.”

He turned, their lips almost touching. “By defacing public property?” His hand tightened around her, bringing her closer.

“By creating together.”

“La mia sirena, if you want to create something, we could have made gelato.”

She giggled as he trailed kisses from her ear to her collarbone, where she was ticklish. She lightly shoved him. “Later.” She panted between bouts of laughing. “We’ll gelato later.”

He paused. “I have not heard gelato used in such a way. Does it mean something besides dessert?”

She sauntered out of his hold and glanced over her shoulder at him, her lashes lowered. “I think it can mean both.”

He did not hold back his growl as he surged forward, grabbed her around the middle, and pulled her back flush with his stomach. “You tease me. But I will collect.”

“I’m counting on it, Bello.” She used the nickname the grandmothers at The Palms used for him.

He tickled her side, and she skirted away. He let her go, this time. He would very much like to kiss her until they were both exhausted, but to do such a thing without a word of commitment between them was not done. If he ever did see his sisters again, he would like to do so knowing he was a man who had lived in such a way that they would be proud to call him their brother.

“Explain to me how to do this?” He pulled his laminated card from the apron pocket and then looked at the white wall.

She moved them to a sign where the master plan was printed and placed her card on the corresponding square. “This is the mural they want here. Instead of hiring someone to paint it, they have locals check out cards.” She tapped his. “And come and paint their section. For example, I’ll paint the front half of the flamingo.”

“And I will paint the backside.” He lifted one eyebrow. “Did you do that on purpose?”

Her eyes widened in false innocence. “It’s not like you have a thing for backsides.” She hurried away before he could tickle her again. When she turned around to see if he was watching her backside, he pointed to the only cloud in the sky. “Maybe we will have shade, si?”

She quirked a grin and went back to spraying the wall. His card had numbered instructions on the back. “What happens if it is horrible?”

“They’ll paint it white and let someone else try.”

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