Page 63 of Royal Agenda

The door squeaked open, and Grace turned to see who had interrupted class. Her breath caught in her throat as Ryker strode in as if he could go anywhere he pleased and no one would stop him. He was gorgeous, and her traitorous heart leapt at the sight of him. All the butterflies woke up and panted like Bear on a hot afternoon.

Stop it, she scolded them. He couldn’t just show up here.

As she moved to intercept him, Mack came in and shut the door behind him. Before she could send them on their way, Ryker lifted a hand and addressed the class. “Ciao researchers.” Every head swiveled at his deep voice with that delectable accent. “Mack would like to know about his Scottish family line.”

Grace’s soul split into two parts and argued with one another. The sensible side of her, which was, admittedly, already weaker than the heart-side, said that she should kick both of them out of class, and Ryker’s attempt to give her a pity research project wasn’t enough to pick up their relationship.

The heart-side of her swooned at the idea of researching Mack’s family. Half brothers, one raised in Scotland and one in the US, had to be a story she could sink her fingers into. Coupled with the fact that Ryker understood how much of a draw that would be for her and had somehow convinced Mack to show up here today, had the ice wall around her heart melting. He knew which hand to deal to his advantage.

For once, the sensible side won out—Grandma Nancy would be so proud. Mack’s history was not the one she really wanted. “I’m sorry, gentlemen, but you aren't a registered student of this class, and I can’t let you in.”

Ryker’s eyes softened, and the ice wall cracked, making her shudder. “Please, la mia sirena, Mack has a deep wound in his heart, and you are the one who can help him. The only one.”

Darn his Isoladian charm. It didn’t help that up close Ryker smelled so good—–like soap and aftershave and some kind of sweet pastry that made butterflies flutter like eyelashes.

She stepped in front of Mack to create space between her and Ryker. With all her might she checked him out. Despite the Scot's big muscles and handsome face, the butterflies in her stomach were not impressed.

Mack’s eyes were set in a determinedly resigned way. Nothing about his posture said he wanted to be here. “Is that true?” She lifted one eyebrow.

He nodded once. His eyes darted to Ryker. “I’m not anything special but my mother was.”

“Ahhh,” Mrs. Goodman’s hand covered her heart. “You can’t turn him away, Grace. Not when it’s his mother.”

“Have a heart, Grace,” added Mr. Knight. He claimed he was English through and through, but Grace suspected there was a little Irish and possibly Swedish thrown into his line.

“All right, everyone,” Grace addressed the room, “let me talk with him privately and I’ll let you know.”

Several people nodded and they all went back to work. They had twenty minutes left and no one wanted to waste it.

She took Mack by the arm and moved him back toward the door. No sparks with a touch and she could breathe as easily as ever. “I’m happy to help with the research, but I get this feeling that you’re not entirely sure you want to do this.” She glanced toward Ryker, who was writing on the whiteboard. His body was in the way, and she couldn’t make out the words.

Mack hesitated for a moment before he spoke, his voice tinged with apprehension. "There’re ghosts in my family tree.”

Grace nodded her understanding. “Genealogy is about more than just the good parts of our history. It's about understanding the complexities of our past and finding a sense of connection with the journey our ancestors took. By exploring your family’s story, we can gain a deeper understanding of who you are today." She drew a breath. “You wouldn’t be the first person to uncover unsavory ancestors, and I assure you, I won’t judge you based on their actions.”

Mack considered her words, his apprehension slowly giving way to curiosity. "All right," he finally agreed, a hint of reluctant enthusiasm in his voice. "I'll give it a try.” He glanced around.

“Okay.” She went to her bag and handed him a card. “Email me your full name, birth info, and your mother’s and father’s if you have it. There’s another class coming in in about a half hour so I’m afraid we won’t get much done today.”

He took the card. “Sounds good. Ryker.” Ryker turned to look at him. “I’ll be in the hall.” He gestured over his shoulder before leaving, shutting the door once again.That man was OCD about open doors.

Grace was called over to help someone and didn’t have the chance to kick Ryker out.

The next ten minutes were a flurry of questions as people scrambled to get to a stopping point. Strangely, it was easier to concentrate on all this with Ryker in the room. A new energy filled her, and she could ignore him completely while enjoying the connection that hummed between them.

Her timer went off, signaling the end of class–a necessity she’d adopted because otherwise, no one left on time. They stacked post-it notes and papers, making notes and drawing arrows. All the while, she felt Ryker’s gaze on her. The sensation was wonderful, like she was floating in the ocean with turtles and dolphins and bare-chested mermen who made her feel desirable and valuable.

“Goodbye. I’ll see you next week,” Grace told them as they left.

Mrs. Thompson stopped and put her hand on Grace’s arm. “Don’t send him away,” she nodded toward Ryker. “Not until you hear him out.”

Grace’s smile froze. “I’ll do my best.”

Mrs. Thompson laughed. “That’s all we can ever do when it comes to men.” She winked. “The trick is finding one who will do the same.”

Grace leaned in and asked, “And you think he’s one of those?”

Mrs. Thompson considered him, not bothering to hide the fact that they were talking about him. “I think he does his best in every aspect of life—but when it comes to love, he’ll fall —they all do. That man, though, he’ll get back up when he falls down. Every time.”

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