The Royals Next Door

by Karina Halle

  The owner purses her lips together and backs up slowly while I turn away, choking on my laughter. Oh, she definitely knows what pegging is. Perhaps she’s not as anti-romance as she seems. I file away a mental note for a future podcast theme.

  I grab a few more books for Monica from the shelf, still giggling, while Harrison flips through the pages of the pegging book. I have no doubt he’s looking for a sex scene, and I know he’s found one when a hint of pink starts to creep up his cheeks.

  He clears his throat and hastily puts the book on top of the stack I’m holding. “I think I see where you get your, uh, voracious appetite from.”

  “Are you complaining?” I tease, walking past him.

  “Not at all,” he says roughly as he follows me to the till. “Just wish we had more opportunities.”

  You and me both.

  But the truth is, Harrison and I don’t have a lot of time to be together, and definitely not alone. After we buy the books for Monica, we pick up some groceries, and then we’re heading back to the compound so Harrison can go back to being a bodyguard and I can go back to trying to work on some lesson plans for the fall.

  It’s a fruitless effort, though. He says goodbye to me in my driveway, and even though no one is watching, we keep our distance from each other. Then I go to my bedroom, lock my door, and decide to spend the afternoon pretending he’s with me.

  Eighteen

  “You know, I wouldn’t mind if Mr. Cole came over more often,” my mother says, her voice casual and high pitched for extra innocence.

  I glance over at her, my brow raised in surprise.

  We’re sitting on the deck sipping iced blueberry tea. It’s only ten in the morning, but it’s a scorcher already. A couple of hot days in a row is pretty rare here, even in July, but it’s been a consistent heat wave all week long.

  There’s no way Mom hasn’t caught on, I think to myself.

  “Why would he come over?” I ask, trying to sound blasé.

  “I don’t know, Piper.” She says this in a way that suggests she very well does know. She takes a satisfied sip of her iced tea. “He’s here to do laundry quite a bit.” Her eyes twinkle at me. “And I know my pie is good, but it’s not that good.”

  Don’t fall for it. It’s a trap.

  I shrug. “I’m sure their machine will get fixed one of these days. And it is that good. You could open up your own bakery by now.”

  It’s been a couple of days since Harrison stopped by the house and then took me into town. I would have loved to have seen him that night, but figuring out how to be with each other without raising suspicion has been a pain in the ass, plus his schedule doesn’t leave a lot of freedom.

  Yesterday he came by again, except he wasn’t alone. Monica came with him, apologizing for their taking over our laundry room and to invite us again for dinner on Friday. Harrison then went down below to do more laundry, but with Monica and my mother chatting in the kitchen, it wouldn’t have looked right if I had suddenly left them to go check on the laundry or something.

  The dinner is tomorrow. At any rate, I don’t think I’ll be seeing Harrison today, but you never know. My stupid, stupid heart is holding out for the best, even if I berate it for being so hopeful.

  “You know,” my mother goes on, “I was wrong about him.”

  “What do you mean?”

  My mother? Admitting she was wrong? What is this world?

  “At first I thought I knew who he was. I had him figured out. I thought I knew his type because I’d seen that type so many times before. You’d bring them home all smitten, and they were the type of boys to make my skin crawl. I’m sure you thought I was being paranoid and judgmental, but I knew none of them were good enough for you, Piper.”

  “Yeah,” I say softly, watching the ocean breeze move the branches of pine at the end of the deck. “I should have listened.”

  “You didn’t. Because they were your mistakes to make. All I can say is thank god you found out about Joey when you did. I know that it was so tough for you, sweetie, and I know it was embarrassing. But that was worth it, wasn’t it?”

  I nod. “It was. And I know I’ve made mistakes. But I also know how to look out for them now. I know my personality. I know I’ve . . .” I don’t want to mention trauma, because it’s trauma she’s helped generate, and I’m not trying to play the blame game, not when we’re finally talking like this. “I’ve been through things that have shaped me, but I also know how to dig deep and get better. And you know why? Because of my therapist. She helped me see why I was doing the things I was, and she gave me the tools to change it.”

  I expect my mom to shut down at the mention of therapy, but she only sighs and leans back in her chair. “I really hope you find the right man one day, Piper,” she says. She rolls her head to the side to look at me. “And that’s what Harrison is. He’s a man. He’s not a boy. He’s not here to play games with you. That’s why I like him. He comes from a strong, earnest, kind place. I know that now. I can feel it.”

  I swallow thickly. She’s right. He is a man. Everyone else was just a boy, as fragile and slippery as a leaf in the wind.

  “You know we’re not . . . ,” I start. “He’s just a friend.”

  “I know,” she says. “I know that’s what you keep saying. I know it’s what you both want to believe. But I’ve seen it on your face from day one, and now I see it on his. Chemistry is hard to fake and even harder to hide. You have it in spades. And even though I’m your mother and the last person you want to confide in, I still know you. That man has your heart. Maybe it’s time you admit it, if not to me, to yourself. And to him.”

  No. No way. My heart . . . what even is my heart? It’s been this beating, aching creature in my chest, hiding behind my ribs, afraid to bare itself lest I get hurt again. I’ve kept it tucked away, having no reason to let it free. And yet with Harrison, it wants to be free. It wants to. And I think, no matter what I do, I’m going to eventually fall in love with him.

  But what good is that when there is no relationship to speak of? All we have between us is a stolen moment of passion and kisses few and far between. I don’t even know if he feels the same way I do, and I wish it wasn’t important, but it is.

  “I’m fine,” I tell her begrudgingly. “It’s just a crush.”

  “Well, whatever you want to call it, I just want you to know that I approve. However you guys make it work, I’m behind you one hundred percent.” She pauses and smiles devilishly. “Besides, the man can bake. That pie was the best I’ve ever had all because of him. He’s a keeper.”

  “You just want delicious pastries,” I tell her.

  “Don’t you?”

  I laugh. The fact that Harrison can bake is a bonus. I’m sure there are a million bonuses about him. And if I’m lucky enough, I’ll get to know them all.

  The two of us sit on the deck for a little longer, but the heat is starting to become unbearable.

  “I think I’m going to go to the lake and cool off,” I tell my mother as I go inside. “You interested?”

  She shakes her head, her eyes closed. I can tell she’s heading in for another nap.

  I go to my bedroom and slip on a yellow bikini before pulling on a loose linen dress on top. I grab a towel, place a wide-brimmed hat on my head, slip on my sunglasses and flip-flops, and I’m out the door.

  I throw the towel into the back seat and am about to get in the car when I glance up through the trees at the tiny glimpse of the royals’ roof.

  Hmmm.

  Why do I have to wait around for Harrison? Why can’t I make my own things happen?

  I head up through the brush that separates our properties, my legs scratched by the salal bushes and ferns, not even bothering with the driveway, and head across to their front door.

  I knock and glance around, expecting the men in the trees to rappel down at any
moment and accost me with their polite but gruff British ways. I’ve never come here on my own without being invited, and there are so many massive trees they could be hiding in.

  Luckily the door opens before the tree men make an appearance. It’s Agatha, looking surprised.

  “Ms. Evans,” she says. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

  “I know. I’m sorry. I was heading to town and wondered if you needed anything.” I mean, I’m not really heading to town, but I’m hoping my ploy works.

  “Let me ask, just a moment,” she says, closing the door on me. I try not to take offense, knowing it must be protocol.

  A few moments later, the door opens again.

  Harrison.

  “Piper?” he asks.

  “Surprise,” I say, throwing my arms out and jutting my hip to the side.

  “Agatha said you were going to town?”

  He sounds all business, which bothers me a little, even though I know he absolutely has to be all business right now.

  “Yeah, I just wondered if you guys needed anything. Or if you needed me to take you somewhere.” I say that last bit a little lower.

  His brow cocks up. He gets it.

  “Sure,” he says. “I take it you’re driving?”

  I nod.

  “I bet there are some errands I can run,” he says. “Meet you at your car.”

  He closes the door, and I walk back across their driveway, grinning to myself, then doing a little skip.

  A flash of movement catches my eye from up above.

  The wave of a hand.

  From up in a tree.

  I can’t see the rest of him, but I smile and wave back. I don’t care if he caught me skipping and looking like a fool. I am what I am.

  I head to the car and get in the driver’s seat. It feels like forever until I see Harrison’s shadow, having not heard him approach at all.

  “Hi,” he says to me, getting in his seat.

  “Hot day,” I tell him.

  He buckles in, and I start the car. It purrs like a broken cat.

  “It is,” he says. “Guess you wouldn’t believe it if I told you the air conditioning broke.”

  I laugh as we pull down the driveway, pause as the gates open. “That whole house is falling apart. Let me guess: Going to be a while before you get a repairman for that over?”

  He shrugs. “He said he’d be here tomorrow. Though that’s what the dryer person’s been saying for days, and I’m starting to suspect they’re the same person. Roscoe’s Heating and Cooling and Roscoe’s Repairs, seems like too much of a coincidence.”

  I giggle at him. “Don’t forget Roscoe’s Electrical Services. Still haven’t fixed a baseboard heater in my house.”

  He lets out a small laugh, and I let the trippy, happy feelings flow through me for a moment before the more awkward ones resurface.

  The funny thing is, though, aside from the sexual tension between us, which is very taut and thick and real, I don’t feel that incessant need to blab. The silence is comfortable. Being in his presence both speeds up my heart rate and calms me at the same time. These feelings are a paradox, but I’m grateful for them all the same.

  When we drive past the town, though, he turns to me. “Where are we going?”

  “Nowhere,” I say, briefly sticking my tongue between my teeth.

  He focuses on that for a moment, then looks me in the eye. “Why did I have a feeling?”

  “Because I was tired of waiting for you,” I tell him.

  His expression falters. “Sorry. It’s not exactly easy to get away. Especially since I came by to do laundry yesterday. There’s only so much.”

  “I know, I’m just giving you a hard time.” I wink at him. Innuendo and all that. “Or at least, I hope it’ll be hard.”

  His brows raise. “So where are you taking me?”

  “A place where we can be alone and escape the heat.”

  He chuckles. “That sounds like an oxymoron to me.”

  “You’ll see,” I tell him.

  I take the Cranberry Road exit heading past the sign to Mount Maxwell Provincial Park. It’s a long and winding drive up past forests and farmlands, more hidden nooks of the island. Harrison’s attention is rapt on the scenery. “There’s so much here that I haven’t seen. And I’ve seen more than Eddie or Monica.”

  “Doesn’t that bother them? I mean, I know they came here to escape, but even with that big house, cabin fever has to be getting to them too.”

  “I think they’re just so focused on the baby,” Harrison says. “Then again, I’m just going by what I hear. I think Eddie might be getting a little annoyed, but it’s hard for them to go anywhere.”

  “We could always go for a hike somewhere,” I tell him. “In fact, we’re about to go for a little one right now. Except if they came, they could get in trouble.”

  “In trouble?” he repeats. “Okay, what do you have planned? I don’t trust that expression in your eyes.”

  I give him a saucy grin. “Relax. Go with the flow. Island life, remember?”

  It’s not long, though, until we’re on the bumpy mountain road, avoiding potholes that threaten to swallow the car whole. To his credit, Harrison doesn’t say anything else, but I can tell he’s wary about this whole thing.

  Finally I pull off the road and park at the foot of a hidden driveway, baby birch trees growing along the edges. I get out of the car and grab my towel, then point across the road to where the dust from my car is still lingering in the hot air.

  “What?” Harrison asks.

  “We’re going in there,” I tell him.

  “Into where? Those trees?”

  “Mmhmm. It might be time for you to leave your jacket behind. It’s going to get torn up.”

  Now he looks panicked. “Where are you taking me?”

  “Don’t worry, it’s an easy hike. And anyway, I don’t know how on earth you can wear that suit in this weather. Don’t you have some formal secret agent shorts or something?”

  “Not a secret agent. And no, we don’t have shorts. What a ghastly sight that would be.”

  I grin and wave him forward. “Come on.”

  I cross the road and head into the forest, Harrison following. I point to a tall chain-link fence that ends a few feet away before walking through the brush that skirts around it.

  “That fence didn’t use to be here, but the fire department put it up to stop us from using the lake.”

  “Wait a minute, you’re taking me to a lake?”

  “Where did you think I was taking you?”

  “I don’t know,” he says. “Perhaps an old abandoned hunting lodge with a bed in the corner.”

  I laugh and look at him over my shoulder. “My god. I have higher standards than that.”

  “Do you? You’re taking me on what seems like an illegal excursion to a lake.”

  “It’s not illegal. They just tried to, you know, dissuade people. This lake is gorgeous, and for whatever reason they decided they didn’t want people to use it. Someone complained, probably Barbara Mischky, or one of the houses on the lake. They say it’s because it’s a reservoir, but a lot of the other lakes on the island are reservoirs, and you don’t see them fenced off.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  I look at him again. He’s marching through the undergrowth with ease, branches from the hemlocks tugging at his shirt as he passes by.

  It’s about fifteen minutes of bushwhacking before we see the lake.

  Just as I suspected, there’s not a soul here, and from where we are, tucked into a small bay, you can’t see the houses at the end of the lake either. It’s just us, the gleaming jewel-green water, the sun-dried moss that covers the slopes of granite and quartz that lead to the shore, the tall, wavering fir and cedar.

  “Shit. It’s a beauty,” Har
rison says.

  I waste no time.

  I immediately pull my dress over my head and throw it to the side along with my towel, then scamper down toward the shore in my bikini, kicking off my flip-flops just before I carefully climb onto a couple of rocks that jut out into the water.

  “Piper!” Harrison calls, but I ignore him.

  I get to the last rock, find my balance on the sun-warmed surface, and then launch myself into the lake.

  And by launch, I mean cannonball. Any attempt at diving would result in a belly flop, and besides, I’m like five years old at heart.

  The water is cool, shocking me awake as I hit with a big splash, my arms wrapped tightly around my shins. I open my eyes to the bubbles and then kick up to the surface, bursting through to the sun on my face.

  I tread water and look over at Harrison, who is on the lakeshore, his hands on his hips, frowning at me. But there’s a smile on his lips too, just as I’m grinning widely at him.

  “Come on in, the water is just fine,” I say, splashing around.

  He stares at me for a moment, then starts to unbutton his dress shirt.

  I am here for this.

  I keep treading, my eyes focused on each sliver of skin that’s slowly revealed.

  Yes, I’ve had sex with Harrison.

  But I never got to enjoy his body the way I would have liked to.

  This is my first look, and I am going to look.

  He reaches the last button, then removes his shirt.

  Damn.

  I watch as he folds his shirt neatly and places it on the moss beside him, my eyes drawn to every bare inch of his torso, from the wide expanse of his chest, to his rock-hard shoulders, to his literal six-pack abs, all of which are covered in tattoos, tattoos that mean something to him, tattoos that tell the story of Harrison.

  I am determined to read that story as far as he’ll let me.

  Of course, he doesn’t stop undressing.

  His pants come off next.

  Socks.

  Shoes.

  Then he’s just in his boxer briefs.

  And then . . .