The King And The Kindergarten Teacher (The Rebel Royals Series Book 1)

by Shanae Johnson

  Aubrey-stinking-Thomas. The kid had a cell phone. Had she texted her mom? Well, she could already read. Most of the five-year-olds in her class were on a second grade level already and were bored with her alphabet lessons.

  “Parents entrust us to prepare their children for the real world, Miss. Pickett.”

  Did no one believe romance still existed in the real world? That there were men who would slay a dragon for their true love? Apparently not. Most men her age vanquished trolls by swiping left and leaving it at that.

  “I believe you have a bright future here with us,” said Principal Clarke. “But if I continue to receive calls …”

  “I was trying to teach a moral lesson,” said Esme. “I just didn’t get to the end of the story.”

  “Try a different story. Perhaps a biography next time?”

  Esme breathed through her nose to keep her mouth shut. Facts, she felt, were for fourth graders.

  “We have a very important visitor coming in today. The Prince and Princess of Cordoba. We want to make a good impression.”

  That’s all anyone cared about at this school. Impressions. Not imagination.

  “I’m going to grab a slice of pie,” said Esme. “Can I bring you back something?”

  “Pie? Carbs in the afternoon? My, my, you do live dangerously, Miss. Pickett.”

  With another deep breath through her nose, Esme kept her mouth shut and headed out of the building. She whipped her cell from her pocket, texting Jan to have a slice of her usual warmed up for her and on a plate by the time she rounded the block.

  Esme hit SEND. When she looked up, she couldn’t believe her eyes. There was a dragon in the middle of the street. And it was flying straight for her.

  Chapter Three

  The city of New York passed by Leo in concrete gray, denim blue, and fluorescent lights as he looked out the car window. Passed by him was a relative term. He could walk faster than the car traveled in traffic. The busy street was more a parking lot than a thru way.

  “Sorry it’s taking so long, gents,” said the driver.

  He tipped his hat as he looked back at Leo and Giles in the back seat. Their driver was a New York native. He was tickled when he learned he’d be driving around a real live king. In fact, the man had actually giggled like a schoolgirl when he’d come face to face with Leo.

  “That’s quite all right,” said Leo.

  “Was that you said you want to quit, your royalness?”

  Leo had traveled extensively before he was crowned. Back in his school days, he spent a good deal of time in Germany where he’d mastered the gruff language. After school, he did a lot of mission work in French-speaking Africa where the accents were thick.

  He excelled at communication. Except here in New York where the tongue twisting accents, the double negatives, and the flipped meanings of words often threw him. And vice versa, so it would seem.

  “No,” said Leo. “I mean the traffic is not your fault.”

  The driver nodded. “Sorry, man. The way you speak English is all fancy. I have enough trouble understanding people from Jersey.”

  Leo laughed at that. Despite the miscommunication, he enjoyed the driver’s chatting since picking them up from the airport. They would’ve had their own Cordovian driver, but the embassy said it would be better to have a native New Yorker navigating the streets this week when diplomats from all over the world would be clogging the throughways.

  Leo looked out at those streets. What he wouldn’t give just for a moment of freedom. A moment to disappear into the crowd.

  “Why don’t we just get out and walk?” said Leo.

  Giles huffed as though something harsh and distasteful clawed its way from the back of his throat. “You’re a king. A king does not walk. Especially in a foreign city.”

  “No one knows who I am here. I could be any regular Joe on the street.”

  Now Giles scrunched up his nose as though he smelled something truly foul. “You are from a line of great warriors and leaders the likes of which would’ve crushed these rebels when they dared disagree with their king centuries ago. You are far from regular.”

  Leo chanced a glance into the rearview mirror. “No offense,” he said to the driver.

  “None taken,” said the driver. “I’m not exactly sure what he said.”

  Leo chuckled again, and then his stomach got in on the action. “What I am is famished.”

  “You had breakfast at the hotel suite.” Giles didn’t even look up. He shuffled the papers of his dossier.

  “I’m hungry again,” Leo complained, sounding very much like his five-year-old at bedtime.

  “Of course, you are,” Giles said under his breath but loud enough for Leo to hear. “We’re nearly there. I’m certain there will be plenty for you to eat.”

  Though Leo wore the crown and sat on a throne, he felt his life had never been his own. Before it was Giles keeping him on a schedule, it was his parents dictating his every move. Sometimes he wondered if the castle in the sky where he resided was actually a gilded cage.

  He turned again to the New York scenery. As they turned a corner, a castle came into view. Or the approximation of a castle. Instead of turrets, the awning resembled the crust of a plump pie. The sign above read Peppers’ Pies.

  Displayed outside the pie shop was a placard welcoming the many countries present for the UN General Assembly just a few blocks away. The car moved slow enough for Leo to read the day’s specials. On the menu were Australian meat pies, Serbian bundevara pies, and … could it be?

  “Pull over,” said Leo.

  “Your majesty, we do not have time.”

  Leo looked at the dash. They still had a full hour before his speech. Giles simply liked to be extremely early for all events to head off any chance of catastrophe. Which there never was a single one.

  “You can spare your king a moment to satisfy his most basic of needs.”

  Giles huffed again but relented.

  The driver pulled over and parked directly in front of the pie shop. It wasn’t exactly a legal parking spot, but their diplomatic tags afforded them leeway.

  Leo reached for the door handle, but Giles beat him too it. The man hopped out of the car and was on the other side before Leo’s feet had even touched the ground.

  “No need for you to come in and cause a fuss,” said Giles. "I can gather from the sign what you want. I’ll place your order, and we can be on our way.”

  Leo’s presence on the street may have caused a bit of a fuss back in Cordoba where people knew who and what he was. But here, on the streets of New York, no one gave him a half a glance. Still, Giles glared when Leo alighted from the car.

  “I’m sure I’ll be fine,” said Leo.

  “Allow me a modicum of humor,” said Giles. “Will you wait near the car?”

  “Fine,” Leo said with a huff of his own. He could stand to be outside breathing the fresh stench-filled air for a few moments.

  With one more huff, Giles turned and went inside.

  Leo turned and looked around at the land of the free. He turned and tilted his head up at the sky. Looking up amongst the giant buildings, he felt small. Looking out amongst the sea of people, he felt insignificant.

  A person brushed by him, bumping his shoulder. “Watch it,” the person called back.

  Leo didn’t take affront. He’d never experienced rudeness to his face. It was a new experience, and he chose to laugh it off. Which didn’t make the retreating person any happier. They scowled and continued walking.

  A few women passed Leo. They eyed him up and down. The looks they gave him over their shoulders were come hither. He could’ve hithered. But, of course, he didn’t.

  Aside from being a father of a young girl, Leo had never been one for flings. Unlike his brother. All his life, Leo had been a one woman kind of man. And since he’d been engaged since birth, he had remained faithful to the one woman he made his promises to.

  The only woman he’d ever kissed was his dep
arted wife. The next woman he would kiss would have the same title and responsibility. It was simply his lot in life. One he accepted.

  Leo turned back and faced the street. Traffic had lessened in the few minutes they’d been parked. Vehicles were moving near the speed limit once more. Except at the stoplights and pedestrian crossings.

  At the street crossing directly ahead of him, a woman looked down at her phone. The walkers had cleared from the middle of the street and were safely on the side walk. But this woman wasn’t paying heed to the red hand signaling her to stop. She was too focused on her phone.

  A truck rounded the corner, moving at the speed limit. The woman continued to look down. From the angle, Leo could tell she was in the driver’s blind spot. Neither saw the other.

  Perhaps it was the warrior blood of his Moorish ancestors? Or maybe the adventurous spirit of his Conquistador forefathers? Perhaps the arrogance of the French aristocrats in his family tree kicked in. Whatever it was that set him in motion, Leo didn’t think. He simply acted.

  Leo dashed around the car and into the street. With just a second to spare, he placed his arms around the woman and yanked her to him. A split second later, the bumper of the truck occupied the space where she’d been. The force of Leo’s tug and the impact of her body crashing into his sent them both to the ground.

  The woman yelped in surprise. The brakes of the truck squealed in protest. Leo grunted as he fell hard on his back with the woman on top of him.

  “Oh, my gosh,” breathed the woman. “Oh, my gosh. Oh, my gosh.”

  She looked up at the truck that was inches away from them. She looked down at Leo who was sprawled beneath her. It may have been the near death experience, but Leo could’ve sworn he saw stars sparkling over her head.

  “Oy, you two love birds, take it inside and off the street,” the truck driver shouted at them before turning his wheel and maneuvering around their entangled bodies.

  The truck puttered away with a blast of exhaust. Leo covered the woman’s face with his shoulder to protect her from the fumes. When the air cleared, he was left staring into the most dazzling, deep brown eyes he’d ever seen. It was a brown so dark it could almost be black, but there was a light at the center that radiated outward. For a moment, Leo was dazed.

  “Death by dragon,” she said.

  He dragged his eyes from her lips. She wasn’t wearing any lipstick, likely only Chapstick as her lips were glazed, and she smelled faintly of mint and cherries. “I beg your pardon?”

  “I was nearly taken out by a dragon.”

  She looked in the direction of the departing truck. That’s when Leo noticed the green dragon on the side of the truck detailing Dragon Dry Cleaning Services.

  “You saved me,” she said. “My own knight in shining armor.”

  “I’m no knight.”

  “You are in my book.”

  She grinned down at him, and he was once more at a loss for words. His gaze again fastened to her lips. And then, wonder of wonders, her pink tongue snuck out of the corner of her mouth to moisten her already glossed lips. Leo’s hunger multiplied tenfold.

  It took a series of honking horns to bring him back to the present and the danger that still plagued them. They remained in the middle of the street with cars arrowing to pass by their still entwined bodies.

  His damsel pushed off his chest to right herself. Then she bent over and offered her hand to Leo. He stared at her offered hand for another full second, wondering how the roles had been reversed.

  In the end, he took her hand in his. He didn’t use any of her strength to help him to stand. He rose of his own accord. While doing so, he reveled in the touch of her flesh against his.

  They moved to the sidewalk, still hand in hand. All too soon, she yanked her hand away from him. Then promptly patted his pants legs, dangerously close to the crown jewels.

  “Oh, no,” she said. “I’ve ruined your suit.”

  Leo looked down to see that there were smudges on the side of his coat and pant leg. It had been a long time since a woman had touched him. Even though she was brushing rather harshly.

  “I was rushing,” she said, her focus on the specks of dirt and grime on the fabric of his clothing. “Trying to order food on my phone. I’m on my lunch break, and I don’t have much time. That’s why I was looking down at my phone. And now I’m babbling. Is that your car?”

  Leo was having trouble keeping up. He looked from the woman to her phone, back to her, and then to the car. “Yes.”

  “You know you can’t park there. You’ll get a ticket.”

  He shook his head. “Diplomatic immunity.”

  “Oh. Oh, I know that flag. It’s the flag of Cordoba.”

  The orange, red and blue to represent the different countries from which the majority of Cordoba’s people hailed. With his country’s flag displayed prominently and proudly on the town car, Leo waved goodbye to his anonymity.

  “Do you work for the prince?” she asked.

  Without thinking, the truth came out of his mouth. “No, I am the king.”

  “Oh, you work for the king? How exciting.”

  Clearly, she’d misunderstood him. It must be the accent again. But Leo decided to go with it. A little thrill went through him that his anonymity was restored. “It’s really not exciting at all. The king deals with the affairs of state. Agriculture, taxes, real estate.”

  “But you live in the castle? I’d love to hear more about it. Can I buy you a cup of coffee and a slice of pie as a thank you for the life-saving?”

  A cup of coffee from a beautiful stranger? “Yes.”

  As they approached the door to the pie shop, Leo saw Giles frown at him. He gave the man a signal to keep his mouth shut. Giles glared, and Leo could hear the huff from across the room. But for once, the man did as he was commanded and kept his mouth shut. Even if it was pressed into a line of clear disapproval.

  “I’m Esme, by the way.”

  “I’m Leo.”

  Chapter Four

  Despite all the fairytales, romance novels and Hallmark movies Esme consumed, she’d never once considered herself the damsel in distress type. But man was it working for her right now. Esme had fallen into the arms of a real-life hero.

  Technically, she’d crash landed into him while doing the most benign, stereotypical thing that a Millennial American could do. But who cares, because it paid off, and she was gonna live to tell this tale, and what a tale it was shaping up to be.

  Leo held out his arm for her in a perfect right angle of chivalry. Just like in the BBC period films she’d watched on public television as a kid. She panicked for a second, uncertain exactly what to do.

  Did she tuck her hand under his elbow and curl her fingers in the crook? Or lay her hand on top of his forearm, resting her fingers lightly? What had the actress who played Elizabeth done with Mr. Darcy in Pride and Prejudice? Not the Keira Knightley two-hour movie that played ad nauseam on cable. The delectably long, four-hour episodic one that played weekends during donation drives.

  In the end, she decided she wanted some of that crook action. And so Esme just placed her hand between his ribs and his biceps. Her knuckles brushed against the fine coat she’d ruined with her epic absentmindedness. His coat was finer than her most expensive outfit. That wasn’t saying much since she tended to shop at thrift stores and not on Fifth Avenue. But all thought left her when her fingertips met his bulging muscles.

  And—oh, boy—what a bulge it was.

  This man of the palace was no slob. There were more hills than valleys on his arm than in the Grand Canyon. She wondered what he did for the king? He had to be security, with that physique, and that serious face, and the hero skills.

  Perhaps Captain of the King’s Guard? Maybe he was a knight? In the storybooks, the men who protected kings were always knights. But he said he wasn’t a knight. Still, he would forever be donned as her knight in shining armor.

  And just to prove the point, he held the door for her and
allowed her to precede him in. His head even bowed slightly as he allowed her to pass him. Esme’s heart did a flip and a flop and crashed down into her ribs.

  Oh, boy, was she in big trouble.

  A man stood at the counter frowning at the two of them. He had the same golden tan and dark good looks as Leo. He was dressed similarly, but he was clearly older. Likely just a few years. There were no wrinkles in his face, but his eyes were alight with a weariness.

  “I’ve decided to have my pie here, Giles,” said Leo. “I know we’re on a schedule and have to get to the UN for the King’s speech. I won’t take too much time.”

  Giles looked over Esme’s head at Leo. Then he looked back down at her. If possible, his frown turned even more severe, as though he smelled something from the sewer. But he inclined his head. With one more glance at Esme, he left the take-out container of pie on the counter and headed toward the door.

  “Sorry.” Leo took a seat next to her at the counter. “Giles hates to be late.”

  “I don’t want to keep you from your job.” That was a lie. Yes. Yes, she did want to keep him.

  “We have plenty of time to get there. Giles thinks if you’re on time you’re late.”

  “I don’t have that much time myself. I’m only on a short lunch break. Even shorter now since my brush with death.”

  “What?”

  They both turned to face the woman behind the counter. She slammed her hands down on the counter along with the exclamation. The pound was only a thud since her hands were covered in oven mitts.

  Esme held up her hands in a calming fashion. “It was just a figure of speech, Jan.”

  “You’re often prone to the dramatic, but it’s always based on a modicum of truth.” Jan knew Esme far too well. It was a condition that came with being best friends.

  “When I was texting you, I wasn’t watching where I was going and stepped into traffic.”

  Jan’s eyes went as wide as a rounded pie tin.

  “Thankfully, Leo here saved both my life and my phone from certain disaster.”

  “I swear, Esme, you always have your head in the clouds. You need to keep your feet, and your eyes, on the ground.”