Fit for a Queen

by Nicole Burnham

  That explained his curiosity. She offered Royce a smile and said, “Katja’s from Dresden. I’m from Sarcaccia, so my classes have been in both Italian and English since I set foot in kindergarten. If I don’t speak English well now, I’m in trouble, since I expect any job I have will require it.” She explained that she and her friends were study abroad students at the University of Michigan, then asked him the same question he’d asked her.

  “You didn’t hear me lose my temper with my father?”

  “Sort of.” She grimaced, though if that was losing his temper, Royce had a better handle on his emotions than most people. “I was trying very hard not to listen.”

  A rumble of laughter echoed from him. “I was trying very hard not to be angry. In answer to your question, I’m currently living in Guatemala. My parents are in San Rimini.”

  She looked at him in open surprise, not expecting that answer. Sarcaccia was located off the west coast of Italy, a short ferry ride from Naples. The tiny country of San Rimini lay on the opposite side of Italy, a stone’s throw from Venice, at the northern end of the Adriatic.

  “My mother’s American, born and raised in Tennessee. My father’s Dutch and British. He runs a private security company that does contract work with embassies. And that,” he continued, “makes me a mutt who was raised all over the world.”

  “My guess is that it makes you someone who’s comfortable in a variety of situations.”

  “I suppose it does.” He slid a look at her. “The first thing most people say when they hear about my upbringing is that it must’ve been difficult not to have had a permanent home.”

  “Was it?”

  “No.” He circled a finger in front of his face and faked a scowl. “It’s always said with this expression and a voice filled with concern, as if I were stripped of some essential element of childhood by moving every few years. But it’s all I’ve ever known.” Mischief made his eyes dance. “Sometimes, I’ve been tempted to ask if they felt deprived by staying in one place.”

  “Not sure you’d get a good reaction.”

  “Probably not, but it might make them think.” He sidestepped a palm frond that had fallen on the sidewalk. A moment later, he said, “My father’s job requires him to understand a number of cultures. Etiquette, history, habits, religion, even the food. He always says that you can’t secure a location until you understand those who occupy it. Before we moved anywhere new, he’d bring home books or show us videos about where we were going. My mother and I didn’t do the in-depth study my father did, but it was enough to make us excited for the move. My parents both enjoy traveling, simply to expand their world view. They encouraged me to have that mindset, too.”

  “They fostered your curiosity. I’d say that hits one of the most essential elements of childhood.”

  He smiled as he considered that. “Did you move very often?”

  Daniela suppressed the shudder the idea prompted. Her mother wouldn’t move if her life depended on it. “No. But as you say, it was what I knew.”

  To steer the topic away from her childhood, she said, “When you came out of the club, I assumed you were American. Though that’s likely because everyone else in Cancun this week seems to be, rather than the way you look or sound.”

  “I have dual citizenship in the UK and the US. Whatever that makes me.”

  “A mutt,” they said at the same time. The look of amusement they exchanged sent a shot of warmth through her.

  Royce—wrong as he was about the bus schedule—was interesting. She was glad she’d taken the risk and agreed to walk with him, though in retrospect, it wasn’t much of a risk. Between the students walking to the nearest cluster of hotels and the occasional policeman or bouncer eyeballing the crowd, there was plenty of foot traffic. Every so often, a bicycle passed them, headed in the opposite direction. As with the locals she’d seen on the inbound bus, the cyclists appeared to be returning home after shifts at hotels and restaurants.

  It made her wonder about Royce’s family. The call she’d overheard didn’t mesh with his description of travel-loving parents.

  They approached the entrance to a beachfront condo complex. A security guard sat in a booth at the gate with the door open and his feet propped on an overturned milk crate as he read a newspaper. He raised his head at the sound of footsteps. Realizing that they weren’t heading into his area, he returned his attention to the paper.

  She waited until they were out of earshot of the guard before saying, “So tell me, Royce Dekker, what are you doing in Guatemala?”

  He explained that he’d graduated from college in San Rimini the previous May, then said, “I wanted to take a gap year before starting at university, but my parents were firmly against it, so I decided to take one afterward, before I start a full-time career. I found an organization that does year-long environmental projects around the world and applied to their Guatemala program. The group I’m with works to improve access through the rainforest. Most of the roads are over fifty years old and weren’t designed with the environment in mind. Some cause runoff that negatively affects tree roots and other vegetation, some are constructed along routes that keep wildlife from moving from one area to another safely. Others are simply dangerous, so people take shortcuts that disturb the forest.”

  It sounded like hard work. Necessary, but hard. “Do you enjoy it?”

  He raised his face to the sky. Daniela tried not to stare at his profile. Royce had an intriguing face. Strong, handsome, but not classically so.

  “I do. I like being outdoors. Mostly, I like Guatemala at night. We’re in an isolated area, so there’s minimal light pollution. We have an observation tower near our current camp that sits above the tree canopy. I can see the stars from there in a way I can’t at home. Or here.” He exhaled. “This is my first visit to civilization in months. At least, civilization that includes fast food restaurants and hotels. I’d have left the dance club soon even if my father hadn’t called. It’s a lot of stimulation after months of quiet.”

  She found herself smiling at that. “I went to the beach with my friends last night after dinner. We tried to find a spot to sit and look at the stars before going out to the clubs, but the hotel lights made it difficult.”

  “You go stargazing in Michigan?”

  She shook her head. “Not many places to do it on campus. Plus it’s freezing this time of year.”

  Music blared from a taxi as it passed them with its windows down. Laughing students had piled into every possible space, squishing onto each other’s laps. She couldn’t imagine it was legal to have so many people crammed inside. Then again, it was spring break in Mexico. She supposed people got where they needed to go however they could.

  Which reminded her that she hadn’t seen a bus in a while.

  Daniela turned to look behind them, but saw none. The boulevard wasn’t as busy now that they’d passed a few smaller hotels and the condo complex. She’d have heard one if it passed. Beside them, metal security grates covered the windows of several souvenir shops. In their midst was a restaurant with both indoor and outdoor seating areas. The exterior tables had been cleared and the heat lamps extinguished. A lone worker could be seen inside, flipping chairs and setting them on top of tables so he could sweep the floor. Another minute of walking and she and Royce would be at one of the biggest hotels on the strip, the one the map had indicated had its own bus stop.

  “We’re nearly to the stop,” Royce said, as if reading her mind. “You can check the schedule when we get there.”

  “I thought you said they were done for the night.”

  “They are. But you can check the schedule.”

  His grin was smug without being obnoxious. “You’re certain about this.”

  “We’ll see who’s right when we get there.”

  True enough. She stepped off the curb as they crossed a street. When they reached the other side, she asked, “What do you plan to do after your gap year? Go back to San Rimini? Study the stars?”


  “I’m leaning toward joining the military. Perhaps intelligence, if I can get a spot.”

  “British or American?”

  “Good question. I have some decisions to make.”

  The way he said it made her believe there was a deeper issue underlying the one of citizenship. Then she understood. “Your parents don’t approve.”

  “What makes you think that?”

  She gave a breezy shrug. “Just a guess.”

  Despite the ease of his tone, the edge of his mouth had twitched as he asked the question. She’d poked a sore spot.

  After a few steps in silence, he said, “Well, it’s a perceptive one. My mother worries about my safety. She wasn’t keen on having me work for a year in Central America, but she knew it’d be temporary and that the program has been operating in Guatemala for a long time without incident, so she didn’t argue. My father, on the other hand, wanted me to start work right away, preferably for his firm. A military obligation upsets both their wishes.”

  “Parents are hardwired to worry,” she said, sidestepping the issue of Royce working for his father. She suspected that topic was akin to putting one’s foot squarely on a landmine. “My mother wasn’t excited when I told her I wanted to visit Cancun for spring break, even when I assured her I was traveling with friends. I think she had a better sense of what goes on here than I did.”

  “You weren’t expecting the upside-down drinking contests or people hooking up around the hotel pool in broad daylight?”

  “Oh, I was,” she admitted, “just not so much of it. I also miscalculated my friends’ willingness to spend a day visiting Mayan ruins. I’m the oddball who loves learning about ancient cultures.”

  “Culture rarely outranks clubbing on the spring break priority list.”

  “They don’t know the fun they’re missing.”

  She infused her statement with self-effacing humor, but Royce gave her a look that said he understood more than she’d guessed. “Sounds like climbing around old temples is as much fun for you as hiking or ziplining is for me. Nothing wrong with pursuing what you like.”

  “As long as you’re willing to do it alone. Luckily, the more I do my own thing, the more comfortable it becomes.” She slipped a glance his direction. “Like working in the middle of the Guatemalan jungle.”

  “Just like that,” he said, and the warmth in his voice made her heart do a tumble.

  They crossed a hotel ramp with a drop bar and keypad that enabled access for delivery trucks. A moment later, they reached the wide, curved driveway to the hotel’s front entrance. Spotlights illuminated the lush tropical plants near the doors, signaling that the hotel was open for business, but no taxis stood under the building’s portico, only two empty vans bearing the hotel logo. A bellhop lingered nearby, aimlessly patting his pockets as though searching for a missing pack of cigarettes. Voices echoed from balconies high above, and music drifted from the direction of the beach, at the rear of the hotel, though Daniela couldn’t identify the song.

  Royce moved toward the curb, where a post topped with a metal bus sign held a framed schedule. “Here you go. Can you see it?”

  She pulled her phone from her shorts pocket and aimed the flashlight toward the bright white paper. Once she’d read it, she checked the time, then looked at the schedule again. “Two more buses. One in about a minute, one in ten minutes.”

  Royce’s hand moved over hers. The contact startled her, but he didn’t seem to notice. His eyes stayed on the framed paper as he guided her phone light to a section of boxed text. “You’re reading the weekday schedule. Today is Saturday. Well, technically Sunday morning. That’s in this column.”

  She opened her mouth to argue, then closed it. Every other spring break traveler left campus as soon as class let out last Friday and planned to return tomorrow. Sunday. But she and her friends had booked their trip from Monday to Monday to save money.

  She’d mixed up her days. She was certain Katja had, too. Royce was right. The packed bus Daniela had watched the horde of girls race to catch was the last one of the night. Now she’d have to shell out for a taxi when she’d already paid for a week-long bus pass.

  Her awareness of Royce sharpened as he rested his hands on his hips and studied her. All at once, she felt both crowded and very alone. “This is the part of the night where some jackass says, ‘I told you so.’ But he’ll make up for it by calling a ride. Sound like a plan?”

  Chapter 4

  Daniela said nothing. She blinked at him through long, soft lashes—once, twice—then studied the schedule again, her brow furrowing as if she could change the timetable through willpower alone.

  Royce cursed inwardly. He really was an ass. Given how much taller he was than Daniela, he likely intimidated her, though she didn’t act intimidated. The set of her shoulders as she stared at the schedule reflected a mix of caution and defeat.

  He offered an easy smile as he touched a spot well above the scoop of her back, skimming the fabric of her lacy white tank top in an effort to temper any apprehension. “If you’re staying at this end of the strip and you’d rather not share a ride, I’m happy to walk you there. At this hour there are too many drunks trying to find their rooms for anyone to be safe walking alone. Once we get to your hotel, I’ll get a taxi to take me to mine.”

  Prominent markers alongside Boulevard Kukulkan indicated the distance from the center of Cancun. Hotels routinely gave their address according to their kilometer number. Royce and his coworkers had chosen accommodations at the far end of the hotel zone, away from the majority of the trendy restaurants and bars, both because the rates were lower and because they’d be closer to the outdoor activities they’d hoped to arrange.

  For Royce and his friends, Cancun—and the drive each way—seemed as good an escape as any for one of their rare long weekends. The area offered deep sea fishing, snorkeling, ziplining, and the ability to rent off-road vehicles to explore the jungle. Most in their group were a few years out of university—Royce was the youngest, having graduated the previous spring—and had spent the last seven months in rural Guatemala, so the influx of spring breakers hadn’t been on their collective minds when they’d made the decision to visit. Not that the students’ presence was a bad thing. It gave the town vibrancy. While they’d traveled to Cancun expecting to spend their days pursuing outdoor activities and their evenings catching up on sleep, the unexpected opportunity to listen to modern music, visit bars, and generally relive their college experience was welcome. Last night, they’d even gone to a karaoke bar. It wouldn’t have been fun with only the four of them and a smattering of tourists, but with college students packing the place, it’d been a raucous night.

  Tonight, after dinner, they’d split up to peruse the souvenir stalls and explore. Royce imagined his friends were still out, either investigating the bars or joining one of the parties on the beach. Royce hadn’t expected to end up at a dance club, but the upbeat music and two-for-one beer deal lured him inside.

  Since his arrival in town, he’d learned that college students stayed closer to this end of the hotel zone so they’d have easy access to the bar scene. The beach at this end of the boulevard also offered gentler surf than where he was staying, making it more appealing for those who wanted to spend their afternoons bobbing in the waves or walking at the water’s edge. Given those facts, he was willing to bet Daniela’s hotel wasn’t far away. Walking wouldn’t be so bad.

  Daniela’s expression changed, as if she’d made a decision. “That’s kind of you to offer, but I’m at kilometer twenty, all the way at the end.”

  Now it was his turn for surprise. “The Westin?”

  “The Sun Palace, just before The Westin.” A muscle flicked at her jawline, making him realize that in addition to being an ass about the bus, he still had his hand at her back. Slowly, he let it fall. He’d been raised never to touch a woman without her permission and feared he may have made her uncomfortable, despite their easy conversation since leaving the cl
ub. If so, sharing a taxi would make it worse, putting her in a confined space with a relative stranger.

  Boisterous laughter came from behind them. Royce glanced back to see a knot of eight or nine students making their way up the driveway toward the main entrance. They were unsteady on their feet, but it didn’t appear caused by intoxication, so much as by a night of dancing followed by an unplanned walk back to the hotel. The group quieted when they reached the cover of the portico, listening as a reed thin guy in the back said something and made hand gestures as if he were about to climb a ladder, then they broke into gales of laughter as they stumbled into the hotel.

  Royce caught a whiff of sweat laced with booze and changed his earlier assessment. Unless a few of them had bathed in tequila, they’d had more than he’d guessed.

  “I can get us a ride, no problem,” Daniela said, her gaze following the group. Then she surprised Royce again by adding, “I can drop you at your hotel on the way. You shouldn’t walk alone. It’s dangerous with so many drunks about.”

  The teasing note in her voice made him grin, the awkwardness between them dispelled as if it’d never existed.

  When Daniela checked her phone and the ride share services all showed long wait times, Royce pulled a business card from his back pocket and tried the phone number of the driver he and his friends had used earlier in the evening. The man answered on the fourth ring, then apologized and said that with the bars closing, he had other fares and that it would be at least forty-five minutes before he could make it to Royce’s location.

  Royce shot a questioning look at Daniela, who shook her head. He thanked the driver, then hung up.

  “You know another company?” he asked.

  “No, but with everyone at the clubs heading into the hotel zone, maybe we can jump in a car as it lets out passengers.” She cast a look at the hotel where they currently stood. “This one’s too close to the clubs. Anyone staying here will walk when they discover the wait for a ride is forty-five minutes. There’s another condo complex after this hotel, but then there’s a Le Blanc hotel. After that, I think I saw a Gran Caribe and a Hyatt. I can’t remember how far they were, exactly, but they’ll have taxis. The drivers might be happier to take us south than to drive back to the clubs. They’ll see us upright and sober and know we’re less likely to cause problems.”