Royal Games (Dating Games Book 5)

by T. K. Leigh

  Looking at the time, I reluctantly pull myself from the comfort of the bed and start getting ready for my day. Within an hour, I’m showered, dressed in a t-shirt and pair of shorts, my makeup applied and hair pulled back from my face. I check my room one last time, making sure I didn’t forget anything, then head down the corridor and into a waiting elevator.

  It’s been six hours, but I can still sense Anderson’s presence in here. Can still smell his addictive scent. Can still feel his heat. I wonder what he’s doing right now. Is he still in bed, sleeping off all that wine? Or did he get a head start on his day and is already miles ahead of me? A part of me hopes to run into him, but as the doors open to an empty lobby, any chance of seeing him before I leave is dashed. I must simply do what I told Anderson last night. Have faith our paths will cross again if they’re meant to.

  I wave goodbye to the front desk clerk, then make my way out to the parking lot and my rental car. Popping the trunk, I set my suitcase inside before sliding in behind the steering wheel. I retrieve my phone from my purse and set it into the holder I attached to the dashboard, bringing up the Route 66 app, which will help direct me during today’s trip.

  Once I’m settled, I press my foot on the brake and push the start button by the steering wheel.

  Nothing happens.

  I take my foot off the brake, making sure I have the key fob, which I do. Then I try again. Still, the engine refuses to turn over.

  “Oh, come on, you piece of shit,” I curse under my breath. It’s just my luck that I get the rental car with engine troubles. That’s what I get for booking this trip last minute.

  With a deep inhale, I release the brake, giving the car a second to do whatever it needs in order to work. After sending up a silent prayer to not be forced to end this trip before it even begins, I put my foot back on the brake and press the engine start button yet again. And yet again, nothing happens. There’s something dissatisfying about urging an engine to start by pressing a button instead of turning a key in the ignition as far as it will go.

  Finally, after an eternity of refusing to take my finger off the button, pushing it as hard as I can, the most incredible sound fills the air. The engine roars to life. Well, I can’t really call it a roar. This tiny, compact car doesn’t roar. I’m not even sure it purrs. More like sputters.

  I close my eyes, issuing a thousand thank yous to whomever made this miracle happen, patting the dashboard as if the car were a dog that had listened to his master and earned a treat. I hope this is simply a fluke. Not a sign of things to come. I’ve only traveled a little over two hundred miles on a journey that is over two thousand. I need a working car.

  Backing out of my spot, I glance out the rear window, then shift into drive. I take one last look at the hotel, a twinge of regret filling me that I hadn’t made plans to meet up with Anderson today. Silencing the voice in my head urging me to track him down to see if the spark I felt last night is still here, I navigate the car out of the parking lot, passing the pool on the way. Everything looks different now. Last night, it was…magical, a cocoon where I could admit things I normally don’t. But today, it looks just like every other pool at a roadside motel.

  I convince myself this is for the best. That in the light of day, whatever I thought I experienced last night would be ordinary and unremarkable, just like this pool.

  After checking the directions on my phone, I pull onto the main road, pressing my foot on the gas to pick up speed. But the car doesn’t respond, refusing to go faster than twenty-five miles an hour, no matter how much pressure I apply. I drive a few blocks, remaining in the right-hand lane, hoping the car will eventually correct itself. But even after a mile, it’s still struggling to pick up any power.

  When I come to a stoplight, I consider my options. There’s obviously something wrong with this car, despite it only having a little over twenty thousand miles on it. The last thing I need is to be stranded on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere without cell service.

  With a groan, I make a U-turn and drive back to the hotel, parking in the same spot I’d just left. After pulling the lever for the hood, I step out of the car and prop it open, leaning over the engine. I’m not sure why I even bother. It’s not like I know what I’m looking at. Hell, when I’d picked up the rental car back in Chicago, it was the first time I’d been behind the wheel since moving to Manhattan.

  “Car trouble?”

  A voice comes out of nowhere, startling me. I straighten, forgetting what I’m doing, and smack my head into the hood, a loud crack seeming to echo around me.

  “Fuck,” I hiss out as I rub the sore spot.

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you, gorgeous.”

  If the accent weren’t a dead giveaway regarding the owner of the voice, the nickname confirms it. Stepping back, my eyes lock onto Anderson’s, a sexy smirk on his lips.

  He crosses his arms over his chest, his bulging biceps tugging on the fabric of the black t-shirt. His hair is damp from a recent shower, and it takes every ounce of resolve I have to not fantasize about him in the shower. Tonight, I definitely need to put that vibrator to use.

  “What’s wrong with your car?” he asks when I don’t respond, too busy ogling him. It’s impossible not to. He’s the epitome of eye candy.

  “It wouldn’t start a few minutes ago.” I tear my gaze from his. “When it finally did, it wouldn’t go over twenty-five miles an hour.”

  He gestures toward the engine. “Mind if I take a look?”

  “You know something about cars?”

  “I can get by.”

  I step away, allowing him to take a look under my hood.

  The car’s hood. Not my hood.

  He bends down, toying with different parts of the engine. My heart rate increases as I watch him check the oil, grease getting on his hands. There’s something oddly erotic about watching a man as handsome as Anderson working on a car, the corded muscles in his forearms straining, his brow creased in confusion.

  His broad shoulders pull at the fabric of his shirt, and I’m able to make out the defined muscles of his back. When his t-shirt lifts, it reveals a sliver of olive-toned skin. I wonder if he has that little V at his waist all women seem to lose their minds over. In my fantasy, he most certainly does.

  In my fantasy, I even lick the ridges of that V, all the way to his—

  “Nothing looks off,” he comments, straightening and facing me.

  I inhale a sharp breath, his sudden movement taking me by surprise. I attempt to regain my composure and make it appear as if I hadn’t been checking him out, but the sly grin and nefarious glint in his eyes tell me he caught me.

  “Is that right?” I hold my head high, smoothing a hand along my hair, making sure it’s secure in my low ponytail.

  “That’s right.” His voice oozes with sin as he advances toward me.

  With each step he takes, I take one in retreat, my heart pounding in my chest. It’s been so long since a man has looked at me with this much heat, this much want, this much hunger. This has to be a dream. This kind of thing doesn’t happen in real life. But another part of me doesn’t care if it is a dream. Because it’s the sweetest dream I’ve had in quite a while, and I don’t want to wake up.

  When my back hits the side of a midnight blue Jeep Wrangler parked a few spots from mine, I pray the owner doesn’t choose this second to need his car. Because I have no desire for this to end any time soon. And for the first time in a long time, that’s all I care about. This moment. Not the pain of my past. Not the anxiety of my future. Just right now. Just this ridiculously attractive man looming over me. I told him to have faith we’d run into each other again. Maybe it’s time I have that same faith that there’s a reason we keep running into each other.

  “Nora…,” he exhales, angling closer.

  I lose myself in his intoxicating scent, a combination of the ocean and fresh rain. “Yes?”

  “You…”

  “Yes?” I repeat, tilting my
chin back.

  He draws near, his lips skimming mine. “Need to move.”

  His words snap me out of my trance, and I stiffen, blinking in bewilderment.

  “I need to get into the glove box.” He nods at the Jeep behind me. “That’s my car.”

  “Oh. Right.” My cheeks burning with embarrassment, I scramble away from the Jeep and toward my car. “So, what’s the verdict? Anything that can be fixed easily?” I study the coils and wires in the engine, needing to focus on something other than the growing desire flowing through my veins.

  When I hear the door shut, I glance up, watching as Anderson uses a rag to wipe his hands clean. I even find that ridiculously attractive. Handsome, hot British accent, and he knows a thing or two about cars? It’s like someone took a page out of my version of the perfect man and dropped him in my life at the absolute worst time possible just to taunt me. Or perhaps to motivate me to finally get my shit together. To finally let Hunter go. To show me that life can go on without him.

  “There aren’t a lot of miles on it. You usually don’t have a problem like this until there is. Then again, it’s a rental, so God knows who’s been driving it. Sometimes you might have trouble turning the engine over if one of the battery connectors is loose. But that’s not the case here. Everything looks intact.” With his hands free of grease, he tosses the rag onto the hood of the Wrangler, then leans against it.

  “My best guess is it’s the transmission, or a clogged fuel filter. Regardless, it’s not a quick fix. You’ll need a new car.”

  Great.

  Chapter Ten

  Anderson

  Frustration covers Nora’s expression, lips pinched, muscles rigid with tension. She digs her fingernails into her hair that, like the last few times I’ve seen her, is slicked back into a tight ponytail at her nape. Then she closes her eyes and inhales a deep breath, holding it for several long seconds before slowly pushing it out.

  When she opens her eyes, she calmly turns to her car and opens the driver’s side door.

  “What are you doing?”

  She retrieves her phone from the dashboard and waves it. “Calling the rental company to have them get me a new car.” She heads toward one of the benches in front of the hotel.

  I react quickly, darting after her and sitting beside her, the scent of lavender and baby powder overpowering that of the lingering stale cigarette stench coming from the ash tray on top of the garbage bin. She peers at me, arching a manicured brow. Everything about her seems flawless and put together. I wonder if it’s all a façade, like it is for me. A show she puts on so everyone thinks her life is the picture of perfection.

  “I’ll wait with you.” I answer the question drawn on her face.

  “You don’t need to,” she whispers, placing her hand over the phone and pulling it away from her ear. “I’m sure you want to get on the road, too. It could be a while. I’ll be fine on my own.”

  “I don’t doubt that.” I lean back on the bench, crossing my legs at the ankles and folding my arms over my chest. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t do it just to see Nora’s reaction. And like every time before, her gaze darts to my biceps. “But I’d be a fool if I didn’t jump at the opportunity to spend a little more time with you. Like you encouraged me last night, I had faith. And look what having faith brought me.”

  “What’s that?”

  I smile. “You.”

  She parts her lips, about to respond, when I hear a voice answer the line.

  “Thank you for calling Easy Rental Car. This is Tabitha. How can I help you?”

  Nora turns away from me, focusing her attention on her phone. “Hi. My name is Nora Tremblay. I rented a car a few days ago, and it’s having engine trouble. It won’t go over twenty or thirty miles an hour. I’d like to see about getting a replacement.”

  She flashes me a sweet smile, then answers the agent’s request for her reservation number. I take this opportunity to admire her profile, starting at her brilliant eyes, moving to her full, glossy lips that are tinged pink, then appreciating the smattering of freckles across her cheekbones and nose. She has a natural beauty, but there’s also something deeper that draws me to her. That makes me think she’s something more than just a pretty face. Although her face isn’t just pretty. She’s stunning, possessing a classic beauty most women spend a fortune to achieve. But for Nora, it comes naturally.

  “So you’re telling me there are no cars in either St. Louis or Chicago?” Nora cuts through, and I tear my gaze away from checking out the rest of her body, most notably her legs that are left exposed in a pair of shorts. “How is that even possible?”

  “I apologize for the inconvenience,” the agent says, her voice muffled. “We’re at max capacity for reservations and have had some other cars that had to be taken out of rotation for repairs. What I can do is arrange a tow of your vehicle as well as transportation to Chicago or St. Louis, whichever you’d prefer. We should have a car freed up within a day or two. If one is returned earlier, you’ll get priority.”

  The more the agent speaks, the more I notice Nora’s expression turn to one of resignation, her lips turned downward, shoulders slumping. I can only imagine what kind of wrench this has thrown into her plans. I doubt she can just take off for as long as she wants to. Having to wait upwards of two days for a new car may be the nail in the coffin on her trip. A trip I know is important to her. Not just as a divor-cation, but as something bigger.

  “I’m on a tight schedule.” Her words ooze with desperation, confirming my original suspicions. “I’m driving Route 66 and—”

  “Come with me,” I blurt out before I have a chance to give the idea the deliberation it deserves.

  Her eyes whip toward mine, wide and searching. “What did you say?” She covers her phone’s microphone once more.

  I straighten my posture, not immediately responding. This is my opportunity to back out, which is what I should do. Creed will lose his mind once he learns I invited a woman, a complete stranger, into my car. I can hear his voice in my head, coming up with every scenario about who she could be, each one more ridiculous than the last. But she encouraged me to have faith our paths would cross again if they were meant to. Now I have faith that there might be some bigger power at play, forcing us together. A bigger plan. A bigger purpose.

  “You can come with me,” I repeat, not a hint of hesitation in my words.

  She peers at me skeptically, her lips parting. I can already hear the refusal that’s about to fall from her mouth.

  “At least until St. Louis,” I interrupt before she can turn me down. “Then you can decide if you want to continue on together or go our separate ways.”

  “I appreciate the offer, but I don’t make a habit of getting into a car with people I don’t know.” She starts to return her attention to her phone.

  “But that’s where you’re wrong.” Sliding off the bench, I crouch in front of her, not allowing her to escape this conversation. “I’m not a stranger.”

  “Excuse me a moment,” she says to the woman on the phone before focusing her eyes on me. “We met yesterday, Anderson. I don’t know anything about you, other than your name and that you’re driving Route 66. And that you spent your younger years in London before coming to the States for college.”

  “But I make you smile.” I waggle my brows. “I bet there are people you’ve known years who can’t even do that. Don’t forget we spent… What was it? Seven hours together last night and drank almost three bottles of wine. I’d say that makes us friends.”

  She shakes her head. I can practically feel the war raging in her brain. The same war as when I went out to the pool and asked if she wanted some wine. The same war that seems to plague her whenever she shows a single ounce of happiness. And she deserves to be happy. Don’t we all deserve that?

  “You enjoy my company, do you not?”

  “I do,” she admits, albeit guardedly.

  When I take her free hand in mine, she inhales a sharp breath. Ju
st like yesterday, my body comes alive from the innocent contact. A yearning for even more consumes me.

  “Then enjoy my company today.”

  She starts to shake her head, but I interrupt her once more.

  “If you have the car company pick you up and take you to St. Louis, you won’t be able to see the things on your list between here and there.”

  I squint, recalling the places on the list I snuck a peek of yesterday at the diner. Then it hits me, two pieces of the puzzle snapping into place. The list… The ashes…

  Lowering my voice, I edge closer. “You won’t be able to spread those ashes at every place on your list.”

  She squeezes her eyes shut, shoulders slumping. Sure, she could easily backtrack once she gets a replacement car, but that will only add to the delay.

  “Come on, Nora. Have a little faith,” I encourage.

  She blinks her eyes open, peering at me. “Faith?”

  “Yeah.” I smile at our role reversal. “You told me to have faith we’d see each other again, and we have. So now I’m asking you to have a little faith in me. Faith that it’s okay to step out of your comfort zone. Faith that it’s okay to…dare I say it…have some fun. With me.”

  “Faith…” She turns from me, peering into the distance. The seconds tick by, each one feeling as long as a day as I wait for her reply. Then she smiles, locking her gaze with mine. “Okay.”

  “Okay?” I repeat, surprise apparent in my tone.

  “Yes. Okay. I’ll drive with you. But only until St. Louis,” she adds sharply, pulling her hand from mine, re-securing whatever mask she wears.

  “If that’s what you need to tell yourself.” I wink. “I have faith you’ll change your mind.”

  Chapter Eleven