Just what am I thinking here—trying to bait an 18-year-old boy?
Shaking my head in disbelief, I sighed.
A small light turned on in the distance, followed by the sounds of a dryer door opening.
“No,” my friend answered me from afar. “He was too much a gentleman to be your run-of-the-mill pervert.”
Disappointment filled me while I walked towards the light.
Crossing over into the small hall, I could see that I was dressed rather scantily, with my toned legs and midriff showing.
Getting into my mid-thirties and even I was showing a little flab.
Lisa still held that perfect physique, with her dusty olive complexion, dark skin, and a mop of perfectly styled, curly red hair.
Being a little shorter than me, it didn’t disguise the fact that she could still hold her own against anyone dumb enough to try and cross a butch bartender with more muscles than I had in my little pinky finger.
But there were days when I envied her for her body—and it got me thinking back to about ten years ago, when I was the petite little flower of the Vergennes Air Service.
Which is what attracted scumbag ex-boyfriends like Todd Schrödinger to me in the first place.
Shaking my head, I sighed softy—wondering just where I had gone wrong.
Was I too naïve, too innocent, or was I just riding off the thrill of having my own personal courier jet?
Linda handed me my clean clothes and said, “Better get dressed before Bart sees you standing there half-naked.” She quipped with bobbing eyebrows.
“Why you—!” I screeched back—shoving her rudely aside as she passed me by.
But all I heard was Lisa chuckling while I stood there—nearly bare to the world in general.
“Where is he anyways?” I asked—before the door across from me opened up and a very disheveled Prince of Hampton-whatever showed himself rubbing his rumpled bed hair and the sleep from his eyes.
“Can a guy get some bloody sleep without the two of you making so much racket—? Then stopped when he saw me standing there in my panties and holding my clothes close to my chest.
He rubbed his eyes twice to make sure he wasn’t seeing things.
“What the devil—?”
I lost it right there and rapped him hard on the head before he could utter another word.
“You peeked! You peeked!” I screamed at the top of my lungs—shoving the stunned teenage boy back through the door at the same time.
“No peeking allowed—you royal pervert! Not unless I say so!”
Then I slammed the door shut and stalked off.
For his sake, he’d better not try and come out! I thought peevishly.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN.
6:32 AM.
Lisa hid her smile as Bart was the first to come down the stairs connecting the bar to the upstairs apartment.
The young prince looked in better spirits since he washed and brushed his teeth and got into a spare change of clothes.
“How you holding up, Bart?” Lisa inquired sweetly as he took his place from across the empty bar—dropping his duffel in the process.
The young man gingerly rubbed the small knot near his hair line where Kina’s knuckled fist had thumped him an hour ago.
“I’ll be fine,” he answered with an air of embarrassment. “I’m just not sure how I’m going to be able to explain this to Tiger Woods when he sees me, or my mum and dad when I get home.”
Lisa finished wiping the bar glass she had been holding and answered, “I’m pretty sure that you didn’t mean it, Bart. Kina was just a little surprised to see you standing there—that’s all.”
“Is that why she struck me on the head like that?” The boy asked.
The bartender muffled her own laughter as she tried her best to respond the best way she could without sounding too insulting.
“You…just…surprised her. That’s all.” She said.
Bart sat back in the cushioned seat, still rubbing his head.
“Some surprise. Didn’t even let me get a word in edgewise.”
“Your English is pretty good.” Lisa thought to compliment.
“Huh? Oh, yeah. I’ve been practicing on my own. Mum doesn’t approve, but my father does.”
“What do they do?”
Bart hesitated for a moment to think that one over. No one’s really asked him what his parents did as odd jobs—because they were both royalty and had great connections with the English Crown.
“My dad…is a businessman. My mom wanted to be a florist, but she settled for doing some good ambassadorship duties around the world instead. Helping feed the hungry, clothing the impoverished—even getting her hands dirty by engaging at a community-sponsored garden.”
Lisa nodded approvingly. “So you’re just a well-mannered young man whom plans on going to college someday—am I right?”
“I’ll be starting at Yorkshire Community Prep next year. I passed all the entrance exams with flying colors.” Bart said with distinct pride in his voice.
“Congratulations.”
“Thanks.” The prince said—stretching his legs out a little. “Is it too late to ask for anything this morning?”
“Early, actually.” Lisa amended. “I’m waiting for my two helpers to come in roughly fifteen minutes from now. Then I‘ll see about getting both you and Kee something to eat. From what I hear, you have a big day ahead of you.”
“Providing that the weather cooperates,” Bart added glumly.
With that in mind, Lisa turned around and turned on the widescreen and flipped over to ESPN.
But she needn’t turn up the sound on it. Streams of sports updates flowed at the bottom of the screen, with one prominent feature:
AUGUSTA NATIONALS STILL CANCELED DUE TO BAD WEATHER.
(Braves/Mets game ppd due to rain)
Lisa turned and looked at the prince.
“Bad news, I’m afraid. The nationals are still canceled.”
“Bloody hell!” Bart swore lividly. “At this rate…?”
“Are you expected back somewhere?” Lisa inquired curiously.
Looking up, he nodded. “I’m due back in Surrey tonight. It was only supposed to be a one-day trip. Or so I thought.”
“The weather’s equally shitty everywhere else.” Bart and Lisa heard me say as I made my way downstairs—toweling my hair in the process.
When I passed Bart by, I gave him a gentle squeeze on the shoulder. “Your radio upstairs says that a new tropical depression just formed off the Georgia coast and is expecting to zip right up through this area by nightfall as a weak tropical storm.”
Lisa gasped a little at the bad news which had an equally damning effect on my young prince.
“Shit…!” She cursed miserably. “There goes all my usual regulars.”
“Maybe you can hold a small hurricane party, Lisa?” I leaned over the bar with the towel still on my head.
There was nothing like a good hot shower and some invigorating fantasies upon which to keep a woman like myself company.
“Then maybe they would come.”
“Speak for yourself, Kee. I heard you moaning sometime after midnight.” My friend revealed to me—in front of Bart no less!
The horror and shock exploded on my face—as my eyes went into pure panic mode.
“Geez!” I retaliated sharply—taking the towel off my head and smacking her with it. “Not so loud, damn it! Do you want to continue giving him any more ideas?!”
Lisa chuckled as I turned and found Bart staring at me with an appreciative look on his face.
The first one of the day! I thought to himself, before laying on the heat.
“Say anything, and your so busted, mister. I’ll keel-haul you on the port side of the Peacemaker going Mach 2+ so fast, you won’t even get the chance to blink.” I added with a threatening growl.
Bart held up his hands in complete and total surrender.
“My lips are sealed, my lady.” He told me with a sol
emn voice. “You won’t hear a word uttered out from this kindred soul.”
My expression softened quite a bit and I could not help but smile in return.
“Did anyone tell you you were such a gifted poet?” I asked, feeling my heart skip a beat here and there.
“My teachers have told me such—yes. I am something of a writer back home in Surrey.” He said to me—giving me some interesting thoughts on what that might entail.
“What do you write?” Please say romance! I implored silently—then kicked myself in the head as soon as I thought it.
“Some poetry, science-fiction/fantasy, and a little romance.” He said, his eyebrows furrowed in deep thought.
Aces! I thought, a part of me doing handcarts in the process.
“So which are you good at, Bart?” I asked.
“All of it.” He answered—then looked at me. “I could give you a copy of what I have—once we get home.”
It was then I smacked my head in complete annoyance—the move threatening to call down the booze-induced hangover I had been fighting all morning. I was nearly out of the woods, but my equilibrium was still a ways off. (Given how I bruised my hip up against the sink after running into it.)
Thinking about it just made it hurt worse.
“That’s right! The phone!” I exclaimed hurriedly—glancing about for the pay phone and making a run for the end of the bar. “I have to make a quick call!”
I bounced off the exit door in a rush, only to find a strip of orange tape and a sign blaring OUT OF ORDER, on it.
I was going to ask Lisa what it was when I discovered some bright red chunks of whatever was still on it—stinking up the whole place in the process.
“Oohhhnnn Gnawds….” I said—pinching my nose in the process, while looking the area up and down.
Whatever it was, it was everywhere. On the phone, on the small counter, and caked across the floor in a giant splatter pattern.
I made a beeline out of there as fast as I could—before I had that powerful and sudden urge to zuke right then and there.
“What the hell happened back there? Did one of your regulars forget where the fucking bathroom was last night?”
Lisa wore this shit-eating grin I was beginning to detest whenever I asked a direct question.
“Nope.” She said with perfect calm, while Bart behind me wore a somewhat embarrassed look on his beautiful face.
I glanced at him and then her, and then him again.
“What happened you two conspirators?” I asked more urgently—my impatience running thin on both of them.
The urge to kill had risen!
“You happened, I’m afraid.” Bart explained. “Just when we were both picking you up to take you upstairs after closing hours…you decided to run over to the phone to do something and the next thing we both hear is you retching your guts all over the pay phone area.”
My hand flew to my mouth as my brain comprehended just what happened.
“Oh, god…!” I shouted. “I thought I was dreaming that!”
“Huh? Say what?” Lisa asked.
“I thought I was calling my uncle on the phone and then the pay phone box turned into him and that’s when I threw up on him afterwards!” I shook my head in horror. “I was sure he was screaming at me for doing it, but it just didn’t come out right. I kept puking up on him and profusely apologizing afterwards.”
“That you did, girlfriend.” Lisa said with a grin. “But you were apologizing to both me and Bart—because he got some of what you ate earlier, on him.”
I staggered back in complete embarrassment and thought that I was never going to live this matter down—no matter what I did to apologize to the handsome prince.
Bumping up against one of the stools, all I could say over and over was: “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…”
“No harm was done, my lady.” Bart countered easily. “Lisa here was gracious enough to allow me the luxury of a hot bath while she washed my clothes too. It was quite the invigorating experience—to say the least.”
“I hope I didn’t stain anything of yours.” I asked slowly—watching his partially amused expression.
“Nay.” He said calmly. “Nothing of serious consequence, I can assure you. If needed, I can explain to both mum and dad that I got sick on the way down and I threw up on myself—purely by accident.”
“They’ll believe you?” I inquired hopefully—praying that I could still…wait. What am I doing again? Trying to reel him into my corner of the universe?
Kick!
“They should.” The prince informed me. “I can’t recall the exact number of times I got airsick as a child growing up.”
“What about now?” Lisa asked—giving me a knowing look. “Did you get sick on Kee’s pretty jet?”
“I was too adrenaline-pumped to even worry.” He said—despite my warning look. He shook his head to me, but that was all—because he didn’t say anything else after that.
I confided to Lisa a great many things, but my jet was one of the few that I didn’t. Even if the Triton-12 wasn’t some classified ex-military wonder with some experimental upgrades, weapon systems, and a few other hidden features—?
I had to keep my silence—for her sake. I didn’t need some fucking nut job with a beef against me to use my friends or family as collateral or some other terrorist-bargaining chip crap.
“Lucky you.” Lisa said—bumping into me with another one of her glasses. “She never takes me anywhere these days. Too classified she tells me.”
I laughed a bit at that. “That’s because you’re not my type.” I teased her, even though I did feel some deep affection (and maybe a little attraction) for my best friend.
Lisa upped the ante by whispering into my ear: “And the prince is?”
Now my face blushed a bit—as Lisa turned the tables on me for a change; thinking back to when I openly suggested that Bart should get a little more than friendly with my bartender-friend.
But that all stopped in the next instant when Lisa’s words hit me like a missile.
W-what did she just say???
Turning to her, I whispered back fiercely, “a-and how would you know he’s a prince…?”
Lisa shrugged innocently.
“You’re not the only person whom talks in her sleep.” She revealed as she wiped out another glass and set it down next to a long row of them.
Then she started on another without missing a beat.
I stared at her and then spun around and faced Bart. He was toying with his silverware and napkin.
Turning around sharply, I hissed back, “Don’t tell anyone, okay—Lisa?”
“What? Why?”
I glanced down—looking at pinewood finish of the bar top itself.
When I looked back up, I had a mask of fear and the look of death about me.
But that all faded in the next few seconds or so as I got a hold of myself.
“Because we’re being stalked.” I told her flat out.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.
Lisa stared at me—a look of fear entering that pretty face of hers.
“S-stalked?” She started out—looking at me and then glancing over at Bart.
“Both of you?”
I sighed and then nodded. “We…had a couple of run-ins with the British military yesterday.”
“Over that jet of yours? I know you keep telling me its classified—”
“—and for good reason—” I quickly interjected.
“—but why would they be after you and Prince Charming over there?”
“It’s not the jet.” I told her simply. “It’s something else. And that is the reason why I needed the phone. I needed to make another quick call.”
“To whom? Your uncle at the Pentagon?”
“Actually…” I mulled and then turned to Bart himself. “Your Highness…? Do you have the phone number to your concierge…? The one that paid me a bundle to ferry you down to Georgia?”
Bart looked
up from his unraveled napkin and strewn silverware.
“—I’d better get him something before he starts chewing the hell out of the table.” Lisa said out of earshot of me—and disappeared into the kitchen entrance.
Seconds later, I could hear her rummaging around.
“Conrad said that he didn’t need to contact me unless it was an emergency.” The prince revealed.
“But he’s down in Augusta by now—wouldn’t he?”
Bart gave that some thought. “Theoretically. But seeing how the weather has misbehaving itself—? I have my doubts, Kee.”
My expression went from serious to animated. He called me Kee!
My heart did a double back-flip again.
Maybe it wasn’t so bad falling for a younger guy, I reflected in the time he sat there and the time he stood up to stretch.
My eyes roved over every inch of him and it was giving my already hyperactive imagination more ammunition to play with since me and my dad installed the Peacemaker’s primary weapon systems over five years go.
Looking back at me, he quickly apologized for his slip.
“I’m sorry about that, Kina. I’ve just been hearing your friend use that name over and over and so I—”
“It’s okay.” I said quickly. “You didn’t do any damage. Kina or Kee is okay by me.” Then I changed the subject before this little charade of mine got too out of control—leaving me with no easy way back.
“Where do you think he’d be by now—if he‘s not in Augusta?”
“London for sure!” The boy exclaimed whole-heartedly. “He said that he had some business to attend to and that he would be returning for me in a day—possibly two.”
I didn’t like this one fucking bit.
My sixth sense was practically screaming obscenities in my ear and I didn’t enjoy possibly being toyed with.
Especially by a guy whose cuteness level was just as high as Prince Bart here’s was.
I joined him at the table—crossing my legs underneath for good measure.
“Bart—don’t you find that a bit peculiar in any way?”
Looking at me with those beautiful eyes of his, he simply shrugged.
“Conrad’s been a good valet and a good bodyguard since I can recall. If he had to leave suddenly—without any reason—he wouldn’t have to let me know the reasons why. I’m sure whatever he had to do was in good standing with me, my parents, and the English Crown.”
The Peacemaker Page 10
