Royal Games (Dating Games Book 5)

by T. K. Leigh

  Anderson

  “Are you hungry?” I ask, cutting through the stiff silence that’s a complete shift from the easy conversation we shared last night. Then again, wine was involved. Not to mention, we weren’t stuck in a small space, unable to escape the tension crackling between us.

  “I can eat, if you don’t mind stopping.”

  “I’m in no rush for this day to end,” I comment, stealing a glance at her. She bites her bottom lip, trying to subdue her smile, but she can’t hide the pink blush blooming on her cheeks.

  Putting my indicator on, I turn into the parking lot of a diner and yank on the emergency brake, then hop out. My phone pings relentlessly in my pocket as I run to the other side of the Jeep. But like I’ve done since I left the hotel after sending a quick text to Creed to inform him of a change in plans, which I’m sure caused him to have a heart attack, I ignore it.

  “I can get that for you,” I tell Nora when she starts to open her door. I pull it the rest of the way, extending my hand toward her.

  “So you’re a gentleman then. Is that right?”

  “At least in public.” I flash her a devious grin, to which she rolls her eyes. Nevertheless, she places her hand in mine, allowing me to help her down from the Jeep.

  Once she has her footing, I rest my hand on the middle of her back, steering her toward the building, reaching for the door before she gets to it. As I stand aside to allow her to enter before me, I notice a familiar black SUV pull into the lot and park beside my Jeep. I knew I wouldn’t be able to avoid Creed all day. I just wanted a little more time with Nora before he intervened, reminding me of the protocol I’m supposed to follow. Reminding me my life is far from normal.

  “Sit anywhere you’d like,” a woman calls out as she speeds past us, four plates balanced between her hands and arms. “I’ll be right with you.”

  “Thanks.” I look at Nora. “Booth okay?”

  “Sure.”

  I lead her toward a booth by the front windows and grab two of the menus from the condiment holder, handing one to her. Another awkward silence fills the air as we peruse the menu. I skim the beverages, thinking perhaps a shot of vodka might loosen her up. At the very least, bring back the easy-going atmosphere we enjoyed last night. Unfortunately, the strongest thing they have is espresso, and it’s probably not nearly as strong as I prefer.

  “Coffee?” the same woman asks, approaching our table and holding up a steaming pot.

  “Yes,” Nora and I say simultaneously.

  The waitress turns over the coffee cup placed down on its saucer and fills it, pushing it toward Nora before repeating the same thing to mine. “Do y’all need a little more time?”

  I glance at Nora, who nods. “Please.”

  “Take your time. I’ll be back to check on y’all in a few minutes.” The woman spins around, shoving her order book into the pocket of her apron.

  I’m about to return my attention to the menu when the door to the diner opens, Creed’s intimidating figure striding inside, looking out of place in his dark jeans and black shirt when everyone else is dressed casually.

  When he catches my gaze, he gestures inconspicuously toward the restrooms before heading in that direction.

  “Will you excuse me for a minute?”

  Nora whips her head up from studying the menu. “Of course.”

  “Thanks.”

  With a smile, I slide out of the booth and make my way toward the men’s room. As I’m about to disappear down the hallway, I look over my shoulder, watching Nora blow out a long breath and close her eyes, as if meditating again.

  This time, I hope she’s meditating about me.

  Inhaling what I hope to be my own calming breath, I prepare to face Creed, who I’m sure is about to chew me out for what he considers an extremely reckless move.

  The second I open the door, my suspicions are confirmed when he whirls around, his dark eyes on fire. He’s only an inch taller than my six-four height, but with the muscular physique he’s acquired after nearly two decades in the military, first as part of the infantry, then as a member of the Royal Guard, I feel like he dwarfs me immeasurably.

  “Are you out of your fucking mind?” he hisses, digging his large fingers through his slick, black hair. “What were you thinking, inviting a woman, a complete stranger, into your car?”

  “I was thinking she needed a ride, so I offered her one,” I respond nonchalantly, shoving my hands into my pockets. “Her vehicle broke down. The car company was sending an agent to pick her up and take her to St. Louis, but then she’d miss out on driving Route 66 between here and there.”

  “So? Not your problem.”

  “But it’s important to her.”

  He glares at me, studying my expression. “You barely know her.”

  “I know enough.”

  “Enough to know she is who she claims to be?” He arches a brow. “She could have recognized you and faked car trouble to get close to you. Perhaps she’s a reporter who’s wondering why you haven’t had any public appearances lately and is hoping for the inside scoop.”

  I roll my eyes. “That’s absurd.”

  But Creed gets paid to think of every possible scenario that could potentially threaten my safety and, while traveling under this pseudonym, my anonymity.

  “It took a lot of convincing on my part to get her to even agree to drive with me just for today. Although I’m hoping she agrees to continue with me once we get to St. Louis.”

  “Absolutely not. I don’t know the first thing about this woman you’re sharing such close quarters with. I thought you lost your mind when you decided to buy a Wrangler and drive across the country, but I let it go. I understand this time of year is always difficult for you, what with it being around the time Kendall passed away. But I agreed to follow behind and not drive with you on the promise that you wouldn’t do anything stupid. And this?” He shakes his head, spit forming on the corners of his mouth as he whisper-shouts, “This is monumentally stupid. She hasn’t had the usual background check done.”

  “That’s what you’re focused on?” I lean into him, the muscles in my neck straining. “That you haven’t been able to run a background check on her? Do you realize how fucked up that is?”

  He straightens, smoothing his t-shirt. But as I’ve come to expect from Creed, it’s free from any sign of wrinkles or disarray. This man may no longer be in the trenches of the military, having been my chief protection officer for the past seven years, but some of his old habits from his military days will always remain. It wouldn’t surprise me if he ironed the sheets of his hotel bed because he noticed a wrinkle.

  “It’s protocol.”

  “Fuck protocol,” I spit out. “All my damn life I’ve followed protocol. Did what I was told. And for once, Creed, just one time, I want to make my own decision about someone. Not have you dig into her past to see if there are any skeletons in her closet that may negatively affect me. I don’t care about that. I want to learn about the skeletons in her closet for myself. I want to have a normal relationship for once in my life!”

  My words seem to echo against the off-colored walls in the restroom, everything else going silent. I almost expect Nora to walk in, having overheard our raised voices. But she doesn’t.

  “Relationship?” Creed’s expression softens as he relaxes his wide stance. “Is that what you’re hoping for with this woman?”

  “No,” I answer quickly, then sigh, scrubbing a hand over my face. “I don’t know. But whatever happens, I want it to be normal.”

  He seems to roll my words over in his head. Creed’s been one of my closest friends my entire life. Apart from Esme, he’s the only other person I trust with my darkest secrets. Which is why I should tell him about my MS, but once I do, this will all end. He won’t risk it. He swore his loyalty to the Royal Family first. To me second, even though I’m a member of the that family. It doesn’t matter. When he swore his oath to protect the Royal Family, he did so knowing he may have to protect
it from within.

  “What is it about her when, for months, you ignored any woman who attempted to get your attention?”

  “I don’t know.” I shake my head, trying to find the words to explain Nora. It’s like trying to explain music to a deaf man or the majesty of the Grand Canyon to someone who can’t see. Some things in life can only be experienced. And that’s Nora. “She’s…lost. A mystery. A thunderstorm desperately searching for her place in a world that seems to only want sunshine and rainbows. She’s sad. Broken.”

  “Is that why you’re doing this? Because you see her as someone you can fix? A way to make amends for—”

  “I don’t see her as someone I can fix.” I pull my lip between my teeth. “I’m drawn to her. I started out on this road trip looking for something. Maybe she’s my Virgil, guiding me out of the depths of the hell I’ve been living in since I lost Kendall.”

  I peer at the graffiti on the walls of the bathroom, a sense of clarity washing over me. For months, I’ve felt lost, more so this past week once I received my diagnosis. But now I feel like I have a purpose again. She’s given me purpose, and I’ve only known her twenty-four hours.

  “I didn’t want to believe it at first, but there had to be a reason our paths kept crossing yesterday. At the diner. Then Lincoln’s tomb. Then the hotel.” I lick my lips. “Do you want to know what she said to me last night after we got kicked out of the pool area?”

  “Which was another stupid idea,” he quips.

  “Still. I asked if she wanted to meet up some time today. She told me if our paths were meant to cross again, I needed to have faith.”

  “Faith?”

  “Yeah. Faith. I haven’t had faith in years, Creed. So I don’t know what’s going to happen. Hell, she may follow through on her original plan and ask me to drop her at the airport in St. Louis to continue on her own. But I have faith that what’s meant to be will be.”

  He blinks, mouth agape. “Who are you? What happened to the man who liked to control every little thing about his life? The man who would never put his future in the hands of faith or destiny?”

  I blow out a laugh at how ironic his question is, considering there may come a time in the near future when I’ll no longer have control over anything in my life, including my own body.

  “I think he realized there are some things we can’t control.”

  He expels a long sigh and closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose, the vein in his forehead throbbing. I can see the struggle between being my lifelong friend and the man charged with my security. Normally, his oath to his country wins. But for once, I pray our oath of friendship overpowers it.

  “I can lose my job for this,” he mumbles, “but fine.” He lifts his eyes to mine. “I’ll keep this quiet.”

  “Thank you, Creed.”

  “But I insist on running a background check on her.”

  “What? Why?”

  “If you want me to leave all mention of this woman out of my reports, it’s my one stipulation.”

  “She’s not dangerous.”

  “I need some sort of peace of mind about that. Let me run the background check. Even if you picked up Mother Teresa, I’d insist on doing the same.”

  I rub the back of my neck, my fingers digging into my skin. “Do you know how fucked up it is that everyone needs to have a background check before I’m allowed to have any meaningful interactions with them?”

  “Your father needs to protect the Royal Family. As do I. And this is how I do it.”

  I glare at him, not wanting to agree to this. It will defeat the entire purpose.

  “It’s either you give me the information I need or I join you two.”

  “Fine,” I relent. “Run the check. Nora Tremblay. The only other information I know is that she lives in New York but was born in Pensacola.”

  “Thank you.”

  “But do not send me a report,” I add vehemently. “I don’t want to know her favorite color or what restaurant she prefers. For once, I want to learn about all that myself.”

  “Agreed. I’ll only bring it to your attention if I discover anything…abnormal.”

  “No. The only thing I want brought to my attention is if she has a criminal record. And not just for smoking some pot before it was legalized. We all did that. I’m talking about serious crimes. Everything else, you keep to yourself. Got it?”

  “Got it.”

  When I hear orders being called out from the kitchen, I check my watch, hoping I haven’t left Nora alone for too long.

  “Are we done?” I bite out, aggravated I even have to endure this conversation. It’s not like I’m a member of the British Royal Family, who are recognized all over the world. Most people forget royalty still exists elsewhere. Although, as Creed often reminds me, ever since Prince Harry was taken off the market, many women’s magazines have focused their attention on me, naming me as the world’s newest, most eligible prince.

  “If Your Highness doesn’t need me for anything else,” Creed answers, his tone all business, speaking to me as my guard and not my friend.

  A twinge of remorse burns at my throat. “I’m sorry, Creed. I’m just…off.”

  “No apologies necessary, sir. Just doing my job,” he reminds me.

  With a nod, I turn from him, about to push the door open with my shoulder when I stop, glancing back at him. “Thanks, Creed. I know I’m not the easiest person to deal with, and I’m grateful you put up with me. I can be quite a dolt sometimes.”

  “Yes, you can. But I’m used to it by now.” He winks, my friend returning. “Just don’t act like that around Nora or she’ll walk away before I can even find out who she is.”

  “I’ll try my best.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Nora

  I’ve lost my mind.

  That’s the only explanation I can come up with as to why I agreed to join Anderson today. Or he really is some wizard, like Harry Potter, and cast a spell over me, causing me to agree to his proposition. No sane person would willingly get into a car with a stranger, would they?

  Well, I suppose that’s the whole concept behind Uber and Lyft, but those drivers supposedly undergo background checks. I did no background check on Anderson. I didn’t even make sure he had a driver’s license. I took his word on faith.

  Faith.

  That word I encouraged him to have last night that he so coolly threw back at me, asking me to have faith in him. How could I possibly be expected to say no when he put it that way? He may not be a wizard, but he definitely cast a spell over me.

  “How about a game?” he says once we’re on the road again after I forced him to pull over at a rundown gas station to snoop around.

  All day, he’s happily stopped wherever I wanted, both at places on my list and not. Much to my surprise, at every stop, he’s given me a moment to myself to spread more of Hunter’s ashes, not questioning or pushing me to talk about whose remains I carry with me. And I don’t ask him about the darkness that seems to fall over his expression once in a while. We’re content in our avoidance and denial of reality.

  I can almost hear my mother’s voice in my head, telling me this arrangement is incredibly unhealthy and detrimental. If anything in my life is unhealthy and detrimental to my wellbeing, it’s that woman. A part of me feels like I need this time with Anderson. That it’s good for my soul.

  “A game?” I peer at Anderson from over the rim of my sunglasses, pausing to appreciate his appearance. He rests one hand casually on the wheel, the other placed on the gear shift. The wind streams through the top of the Wrangler, causing his hair to blow around, everything about him sexy and commanding.

  “Yes. A game.”

  “And what kind of game are you proposing?” I pass him a flirtatious grin.

  Although dark sunglasses hide his eyes, I can sense them flare. The ticking of his jaw gives every indication he’s no longer thinking about playing an innocent game.

  “So many, Nora,” he whispers husk
ily, briefly lowering his sunglasses, confirming my original suspicion about the unyielding desire flaming in his gaze. Then he pushes his shades back on, shifting his attention back to the road. “But for now, how about Would You Rather?”

  “Would You Rather? I don’t think I’m familiar with that one. Spin the Bottle and Seven Minutes in Heaven, yes. But not Would You Rather.”

  “Perhaps we can have a little Seven Minutes in Heaven later tonight, although I doubt I’ll get my fill after seven minutes.” He playfully waggles his brows.

  “I doubt you’ll be so lucky,” I quip. “So, how do we play?”

  “It’s exactly how it sounds. One person proposes a scenario between two options, and you answer which you’d rather do. I’ll go first so you know what I’m talking about. Unless you want to, of course. Ladies first and all that.”

  “That’s fine. You can go. It’ll give me time to come up with something good.” I lean against the seat, settling in for our game as we travel along a country road, the afternoon sun beaming down on us. Miles of brilliant blue are interspersed with billowy clouds, so different from the obstructed skyline I’m accustomed to in New York.

  I didn’t think I’d enjoy being out in the middle of nowhere as much as I do. For years, I’ve craved the fast pace and overpopulation of Manhattan, preferring to live somewhere no one knew who I was or what I’d lost. But something about the fresh air, chirping birds, and friendly people out here in rural America has me rethinking everything.

  “Would you rather lose the ability to see or the ability to hear?” Anderson asks after a moment of contemplation.

  “Hmm… That’s a tough one,” I respond thoughtfully, weighing my options. “Probably my ability to hear.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Is this part of the game?” I tilt my head at him. “An answer and an explanation?”

  He shrugs. “It allows me to learn more about you.”

  “How? By finding out if I prefer my eyes or ears?”

  “Everything someone does or says teaches me more about them.”

  “Is that right?” I cross my arms in front of my chest.