The Royals Next Door

by Karina Halle

  “Need help?” he asks Monica, going to her as she comes to the end of the boat.

  What was that? I swear that look was something.

  “Be extra careful with her,” Eddie warns Harrison, and something silently transpires between them, adding extra fuel to my little theory.

  Mind your own business, Piper!

  Harrison plucks Monica off the boat in the same manner, checking to see if she’s okay, and I start heading farther onshore. It’s a steep scramble over barnacle-covered rocks before an ascent up scrubby, dry hillside to a grove of arbutus trees at the top. Normally I wouldn’t have thought twice about it, but now with what I might know about Monica, I’m a little worried.

  I stop and turn around before I climb the first rock.

  “Is this going to be okay?” I ask.

  “Why wouldn’t it be?” Monica asks.

  Eddie and Harrison exchange a look over her head.

  She notices and frowns at them. “What? I’m not an invalid. I’m fine.”

  “Perhaps this is a little dangerous,” Eddie says gently, putting his hand at her elbow. “Maybe we should stay by the boat and let the two of them explore.”

  “I’m fine,” she insists, giving me a weak smile.

  “This is probably a bad idea,” I say.

  “Why?” she asks again.

  Eddie gives her arm a squeeze. “Monica, dear, I think we should tell her. She’s going to find out eventually. Everyone in the whole world will.”

  She stares at me, and I can see her weighing options in her head.

  Tell me, tell me, tell your friend Piper.

  She licks her lips and then nods, looking up at Eddie, smiling gently. “Okay.” She nods at Harrison and then over to me. “I guess you’ll figure it out sooner or later. Piper . . . I’m pregnant.”

  I burst into a grin. “I knew it!”

  “You did?”

  “I mean, I only figured it out in the last five minutes, but yeah, I knew it!”

  Monica laughs. “Okay then. Well, the secret is out.” She places her hand on her baby bump. “Shit, it feels good to finally tell someone!”

  “Of course, this will stay secret until they’re ready to tell the public,” Harrison says in that ultra-stern voice of his.

  “She signed an NDA, Harrison,” Monica chides him. “Besides, I trust Piper completely.”

  I beam at that. Not that I could legally talk even if I wanted to, but I don’t want to. I feel pretty damn important being entrusted with this secret, and I’ll guard it with my life.

  “I won’t tell a soul,” I assure her. “This is so exciting!”

  The royals are having a baby!

  “I know,” she says, matching my grin. “It’s one of the reasons why we moved here, so I could go through my pregnancy in peace. We’ll head back to England for the baby, I’m sure, but for now I just wanted to be here with Eddie and really sink into the experience. We’re not far along, and I don’t even know the sex yet, but I’m just enjoying being pregnant.”

  “And I’m enjoying being a father-to-be,” Eddie says, wrapping his arm around her waist. “Not that I do anything.”

  She pats him on the chest. “You do plenty,” she says. “Holding back my hair during morning sickness, that was something.”

  “I do that when she’s had too much champers too,” he says, winking at me.

  Harrison clears his throat, and we all look to him.

  “I’m just wondering if we should get back on the boat,” he says, his gaze going up the sharp sides of the island. “Not only do I think it might be too dangerous . . .” He then looks to the ferry terminal behind us, where the big ship is pulling away from the dock. “But that ferry is about to pass. In fact, it’s probably for the best if we get back in the boat. All those tourists on the deck have their cameras out already.”

  “Aw,” Monica whines. “This was our first real trip out of the house.”

  “I know,” Eddie commiserates. “But perhaps Bert will let us do this again.”

  “I’m sure he would,” I tell them. “And I won’t take you back here. There’s a really cool white sand beach in the next harbor over. It’s called Chocolate Beach. I’m not sure why, but it’ll make you feel like you’re somewhere tropical, even if the water is freezing.”

  “Then I must insist Piper isn’t the captain,” Harrison says.

  “Hey,” I say to Harrison, glaring at him. “Not nice.”

  “In fact,” Harrison goes on, a faint twinkle in his eye, “I’m commandeering the ship as of now.”

  “It’s practically a dinghy, Harrison,” Eddie says with a good-natured rolling of his eyes.

  “Doesn’t matter. I’ve seen her drive.”

  “And you always get where you’re going in one piece,” I shoot back.

  “I chalk it up to luck.” The corner of his mouth twitches.

  Funny guy.

  “Suit yourself, then,” I tell him, walking past him to climb back in the boat.

  This time I don’t want any help, which means I’m struggling to pull myself on for a good few minutes as the three of them watch my futile attempt to even swing one leg up on the side, my ass in their faces. Monica is trying not to laugh.

  “Oh, Harrison, go help her,” she says. “Please.”

  Next thing I know, Harrison is doing that caveman thing again where he has me by the waist and is hoisting me up, and I am doing what I can to pretend I’m not actually enjoying this. Damn if it isn’t the sexiest thing being picked up by him, and even though I know he’s just being helpful, his hands against my body feel absolutely delicious.

  I have to tell myself to chill out as I take my seat at the back of the boat. Monica gets on the same way I did and takes a seat next to me, while Eddie and Harrison push the boat back off the shore.

  “So I assume your family knows about the baby,” I say to Monica as Harrison goes behind the wheel, Eddie acting as skipper.

  “They do,” she says, nodding slowly. “My parents are thrilled, of course. They want to come visit at some point.”

  “And Eddie’s parents?”

  She gnaws on her lip for a moment. “They’re happy. Of course they are. It’s just . . . you know, I’m used to people telling me how they feel, I’m used to emotions being on display and all that, and with them . . . it’s like getting blood from a stone. It’s actually quite hard being around them, because there is so much poise and tradition and distance that’s bred into them, like everyone is wearing a mask except me. I suppose that’s what makes me an easy target.”

  “You’re too real,” I point out as Harrison starts the engine and we start reversing.

  “Not too real. Just real enough. I don’t think I’ll ever fit in with them. I definitely tried at the beginning, you know. I tried to wear the right clothes and carry the right bags and greet people the right way, but my true self kept slipping through, and I was breaking protocols left and right and up and down.”

  “Sounds exhausting,” I tell her. “I could never do it. I would fail right away. There’s no hiding who I am.”

  Okay, so there’s a little bit of hiding with my saucy romance podcast, but Monica doesn’t need to know that.

  “I know. That’s why I think we get on so well,” she tells me.

  Now I’m smiling the cheesiest smile. I’m so hopeless.

  “By the way,” she adds, “another bodyguard has just arrived. His name is James, and he’ll be sharing duties with Harrison. Once news of the baby gets out, you can bet we’ll need to step up our security.”

  “Is he like Harrison, or is he normal?”

  Monica bursts out laughing, and I look to the front of the boat to see Harrison glaring at me.

  I give him a look like, Well?

  He turns back around, and we speed away.

 
; Ten

  The next day I feel like I’ve got a precipitously placed cork in me, barely holding the contents of a bubbling secret inside.

  I can’t believe Monica and Eddie are having a baby.

  Furthermore, I still can’t quite believe that they both entrusted me with that information. They don’t even know me, and yet they somehow trust that I’m not about to run to the tabloids with this information. Even with the NDA signed, I have no doubt that I would be paid a lot of money for the tip, and it’s obvious that my mother and I aren’t exactly swimming in the dough. And yet they confided in me, and as a result, I’ve been pulled into their world.

  Maybe they’re just good judges of character. I would never even dream of doing such a thing, and perhaps they see that.

  But at the same time, whoo boy, it’s a little unfair, only because I don’t know if I’m allowed to tell my mother or not, and even though I obviously have hidden many secrets from her, this one feels hard. But it’s not my business to tell, and so I keep that cork firmly pushed in place.

  My mom is in a good mood this morning. She’s in her own little world, making more tea and talking to herself, leaving the kitchen a mess of different dried herbs and flowers. Occasionally she’ll shoot me a question about flavor combinations, but the rest of the time she’s happily muttering away and doing her thing.

  I’m on the couch with Liza curled at my feet, trying to read the next book in this bear-shifter series so I can move on to this octopus erotica (don’t judge, it’s a thing), when there’s a knock at the door.

  Startled, I drop the book, and Liza starts barking.

  Without seeming too concerned, my mother heads over to the door and opens it.

  Harrison is on the other side.

  My first thought is that I’m glad to see him. My second thought is a swift correction, that I shouldn’t be glad to see him.

  “Well, good morning, Mr. Harrison,” my mother says, and then gestures inside. “Please, come in.”

  “Actually, it’s just Harrison. My last name is Cole.” He looks over my mother’s shoulder and at me. “And I was wondering if I could have a word with you, Piper.”

  Ah, here it comes. He’s going to get me to sign an NDA over the whole pregnancy thing. Figures that this is the only reason he seems to show up, when he wants something from me.

  Obviously. Why else would he be here? the voice in my head asks, always keeping me in check.

  I get up and go to the door, stepping outside and shutting it behind me.

  Harrison towers over me, dressed in his usual suave bodyguard attire, while I’ve got on my leggings and a long cream tank top that’s a little more low-cut than I normally wear.

  He has a clear view of my cleavage, but it’s not like I can tell where his eyes are focused.

  “Here to threaten me into silence?” I ask him with a tired sigh, leaning against the house.

  His brows raise. “Pardon?”

  “I assume you’re here to make me sign another nondisclosure agreement over what Monica told me. And no, don’t worry, I haven’t told anyone. Not even my mother.”

  He gives his head a light shake. “No, that’s not it. I do what Monica asks. She hasn’t said anything about that . . .”

  The way he trails off makes me think he might bring it up with her now.

  “Well, good,” I say, feeling a little stupid for jumping to conclusions. “So why are you here?”

  He rubs his lips together for a moment, and I realize it’s probably the first time that I’ve seen any hint of trepidation or hesitation on his face. Like, ever.

  “I need to go off island, find a Costco or something comparable, so we don’t have to keep running to the grocery store every other day.” He pauses. “We don’t have a Costco card.”

  “So you assume I do?”

  “Do you?”

  “Well, yeah. Groceries are crazy expensive here. Costco is always worth the trip.”

  “Would you be willing to go now?”

  I stare at him for a moment, feeling like maybe, just maybe, my proximity to them and my understanding of their situation is being taken advantage of. “As a favor to Monica and Eddie? Sure. I can do that. I mean, it does take a big chunk out of my day, and there are ferries to consider.”

  “We’ll compensate you financially,” he says. “Whatever your price.”

  “Just pay for my gas and the ferry and we’ll call it even.” I bite my lip. “And I request that you come along.”

  “Me?”

  “You just said you need to go off island, and I’m not doing this by myself.”

  “I have a grocery list.”

  “I’m sure you do. But this will take all day, and I’m not going to do it alone, especially if I’m shopping for a duke and duchess. I don’t want to cause a scandal because I accidentally subbed oat milk for almond milk or didn’t get the right cut of meat. That’s going to be your responsibility, not mine.”

  He doesn’t say anything for a moment, but that crevasse between his brows is deepening. “I have to run it past them,” he says warily, like I’m really twisting his arm here.

  “Didn’t Monica say your other dude is here? You know, the spare bodyguard.”

  “James isn’t a spare,” he says. “He’s part of the team.”

  “Either way, you ask them, because I’m not going without you. Either you come with me or no one is going to Costco.”

  He stares at me for a moment. “You drive a hard bargain, Ms. Evans.”

  “And you’re the one asking big favors.”

  He exhales in a low huff and takes out his phone, quickly sending a message.

  “So you can text?” I comment wryly. “Ever thought about doing that instead of showing up at my door or in my yard at random hours?”

  “As I said the other day, I take great pleasure in distracting you.”

  The way he says great pleasure is borderline lewd, his voice rich and silky, and I actually have to look away from his non–eye contact. I hate being flustered in front of him, and seeing that reflected in his sunglasses, and I especially hate this sexy act with his words and the way he eats cake.

  He doesn’t seem to pay me any attention and looks down as his phone beeps. “It’s fine. Shall I drive?”

  I should let him drive. Let him do something, especially in one of those nice SUVs. But because I’m already inconveniencing him, I decide to inconvenience him more.

  “I’ll drive,” I tell him, giving him a borderline evil grin. “Let me get my keys.”

  Before he can protest, I head inside the house, grab the car keys and my purse, and tell my mom I’m going to Costco and to text me if she wants anything. Then I’m closing the door behind me and smiling at Harrison, taking extra pleasure in his discomfort.

  “Shall we?” I say to him in a singsong voice as I walk over to the car.

  He grumbles something under his breath, then catches himself and gives me a decisive nod. I’m really getting under his skin now.

  I get in the Garbage Pail while he tries to fit himself through the passenger side. Much like before, on our very first meeting, his knees are almost rammed up against the dash, and the seat adjustments are taking him for a ride.

  And like before, I find it beyond funny. As the seat jerks back and forth, I’m giggling, unable to hide it.

  “This is why you insisted on driving, isn’t it?” he asks me, his voice peppered with annoyance.

  “Maybe you’re not the only one who likes to be in control.”

  That makes him pause. Then the seat locks in the right position and I’m starting the car. He’s so damn imposing, his shoulders so wide, that the car feels way too small for the two of us. I can’t tell if this was a good idea or a bad one.

  The new annoying thing is that I don’t have a remote gate opener, so I’m totally prep
ared for Harrison to get out and enter the code, but to my surprise he pulls a fob out of his pocket and aims it at the gate. It opens slowly.

  “How long have you had one of those, and why the hell don’t I have one?” I ask him.

  He shrugs with one shoulder. “Guess it slipped my mind. Here, have this one,” he says as he opens the glove compartment to put it in there.

  A million Tic Tac boxes come pouring out onto his lap, along with insurance papers, school papers, and a historical romance I’d thought I lost.

  I can’t help him. The gates are open, and I’m driving the Garbage Pail through, the cul-de-sac empty except for an SUV parked at the mouth of it. James, I assume.

  When Harrison finishes struggling to get everything back into the glove compartment, he says, “Let me guess, you get your Tic Tacs from Costco.”

  “I do,” I admit. “But I don’t eat them as much in the summer. Less stress. Though with the way the media is taking over, maybe I should get some more.”

  “I don’t see anyone,” Harrison says, looking around as I gun the gutless car up one of the undulating hills. “With James stationed there now, it seems to be doing the trick.”

  “Yeah, well, from the way Monica talks about the media, I wouldn’t be surprised if things get worse. So far it’s just been local press. What happens when the Brits get here?”

  “We’ll handle it,” Harrison says gruffly.

  “I sure hope so,” I tell him. “Because the more I learn about them, the more I’m horrified by them. Monica and Eddie don’t deserve any of that.”

  “They don’t,” he says. “But it comes with the territory. Eddie is used to it. He doesn’t know any different. And Monica is too, to a degree.”

  “I remember when Monica was MRed. I loved her music, honestly. Sure, TMZ would occasionally talk shit about her, and maybe some crappy tabloid would take a picture of her at the beach and point out cellulite, as if she isn’t allowed to have any. But she wasn’t treated like the way she’s treated now. It just enrages me that they can be so cruel and vicious because she’s not a royal, not an aristocrat, not white. Meanwhile, Eddie’s older brother gets to gallivant around, having numerous public affairs with models and actresses and socialites, and no one says anything bad about him or the girls. Double fucking standard.”