My Royally Cute Enemy: A YA Sweet Romance (Sweet Mountain High, Year 2: A Sweet YA Romance Series Book 3)

by Lacy Andersen

  “Hello,” I said, flashing her my most charming smile. This was it. My first real American teenaged girl. It was time to put all of my skills to the test. “Pleasure to meet you, Tori. I look forward to being in your classes. I hope we can be fast friends as I invade your lovely home for the next few months.”

  Her steady gaze held a hint of hostility as she reached out to shake my hand, but that didn’t keep me from grabbing it and lifting it to my lips, where I left a chaste kiss on her knuckles. She quickly withdrew her hand and shook it as if I’d left some parasite astride her skin.

  “Great, he’s a schmoozer.” She grimaced at her grandfather over my shoulder. “Are you sure about this, Grandpa?”

  I followed her gaze to see him shrugging and smiling helplessly at her. Instantly, I liked both of them. With a grin of my own, I plucked one of my suitcases out of his arms and stepped aside from the front door.

  “After you, beautiful Tori,” I said, making sure to schmooze all the more.

  She tossed her beautiful mane of hair and marched past me, leaving an air of disproval in her wake. All I could do was chuckle. Certainly, this wasn’t the American girl I’d expected to find on my trip to the States, but there was something to say about a woman who didn’t fall all over a guy just because he was royalty. I couldn’t help but respect her for it.

  I followed Tori into the small confines of the home she shared with her grandfather. The grand tour took less time than it took me to set down my suitcase. The living room, dining, and kitchen were all visible on the first floor. A large wooden staircase stood in the middle of it all. The home had a shabby, comfortable feeling about it. I could tell that people actually lived here, unlike at my own palace. It was a nice change of pace.

  “Why don’t you show August to his room upstairs?” Richard suggested, setting my other suitcases next to the scarred, brown leather couch in the living room. “I’d like to take a minute to let my boss know that August has arrived safely. After that, we can make supper.”

  “Sure thing, Grandpa.”

  Tori smiled at him, her face lighting up for the smallest of seconds. It was thoroughly distracting, like someone had just shone a torch in my face. I found myself unable to look away until she turned, and then I had to avert my gaze to the phone in my hand.

  “Come on,” she said unenthusiastically. “Let me show you to your chambers, Your Highness.”

  I climbed the stairs after her toward the second story. Each board squeaked under my weight, and I feared the whole thing would give way with both of us on it.

  “You know, that’s really not necessary,” I said, stepping gingerly.

  She hardly spared me a glance. “What isn’t necessary?”

  “Calling me by my royal title. You can just call me August. I’d prefer it, actually.”

  I slid my hand along the wooden railing. It was smooth and perfect for sliding down. That never would’ve been allowed in Valta, but I would’ve bet money these Americans weren’t quite so strict.

  Tori snorted, drawing my gaze where she stood at the top of the stairs. Her cute little nose was wrinkled. “Whatever you say, August.”

  That was better. No, Your Majesties or Your Highnesses. That didn’t sound right coming out of her lovely mouth. No, my given name was enough. She led me two steps down the hall and into a bedroom that had to be smaller than my closet at home. The minuscule bed was laid bare. Massive shelves, partially filled with books of every color and size, lined the wall. A sheer lace danced in the slight autumn breeze coming through the screen of the room’s single window.

  It was something more akin to a prison than a bedroom fit for a royal guest. Still, I didn’t stop myself from falling back onto the bed and sighing happily up at the popcorn ceiling. This room might have been as tiny as a prison cell, but it meant freedom for me. And that was all that mattered.

  “I’ll grab bed sheets from the linen closet,” Tori said, glancing around the room. Her eyes lingered for a long moment on the books before she turned back to me and stuffed her hands in the pockets of her khaki trousers. “My room is next door. Grandpa’s is on the other side. He’ll hear you if you try to sneak out at night, so don’t even try it. He hardly sleeps, thanks to his job.”

  I turned to my side and rested my head on my hand, shooting her a grin. It was time to get to know my pretty hostess a little better. “Does that mean you’ve tried to sneak out before?”

  Her cheeks pinked in the most endearing manner. “No. Never.”

  “Then, how do you know for sure you’ll get caught?”

  She sputtered a senseless reply, and I just grinned harder, switching the topic. “Say, where does one go to have some fun in this village? Is there a special hangout for teenagers? A club, perhaps?”

  “Nope. No club.”

  From the tilt of her head, she seemed almost proud of the fact. Still, I wasn’t entirely convinced she was being forthright. There had to be something in this village to entertain the young ones.

  “What about a . . . watering hole?” I hesitated, unsure if I was using a familiar dialect to get my point across. “A hang-out?”

  She shrugged. “Not much to do in Sweet Mountain. I guess you came to the wrong part of the country.”

  “Guess so.”

  A grin worked its way onto my lips as I returned her solemn stare. She was plucky. Father and Henry both would’ve liked her. She had that same stubborn, unbending aura surrounding her. They probably would’ve thought she’d be a good influence on me. In fact, I wouldn’t have been surprised if Father had picked her out himself.

  Glancing over at the bookshelves, I wondered how many of these were hers. She certainly seemed like the type to amass an eclectic work of literature. Maybe she’d even read all of them. Next to a stack of poetry books was a framed photo of a pretty young woman with a sun-kissed face and braided hair, laughing as she twirled in her long skirt. She struck a strong resemblance to the girl standing in front of me, but without the stiffness. Picking it up from the shelf, I studied it carefully.

  “Is this your mother?” I asked, glancing up at her. “When do I get to meet her?”

  The color had gone out of her face. She snatched the frame out of my hands and clutched it tight to her chest. “Yes, that’s her. And you won’t meet her. She’s somewhere in California right now. Or Mexico. I’m not really sure.” An awkward silence fell between us as she slowly edged toward the door. Apparently, I’d hit a nerve. With her back pressed against the wall, she jerked her thumb over her shoulder. “I should really go help my grandpa with supper. Come on down when you’re ready.”

  And with that, she was gone.

  I fell back onto the bed and shook my head. So far, my American experience wasn’t what I would’ve called overly thrilling. Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I opened up my messaging app and saw a message waiting from my brother.

  Henry: Is America everything you’d hope it would be?

  Me: I don’t suppose you knew the details about this arrangement?

  I had to wait a few moments before Henry’s reply, but the moment it came through, everything started to make sense.

  Henry: Father felt it was best that you learn to appreciate the simple things in life. He personally requested the family you now reside with. You will be well looked after, and that is what matters.

  I rolled my eyes. Of course, Henry knew. It was one big joke to him. He was most likely waiting for me to complain and hedging his bets that I’d beg to come home before my time was up. But he was going to have to be disappointed.

  Me: Everything here is perfect. I’m going to have the time of my life. They love me already.

  Henry: Liar.

  I smirked at the screen.

  Me: Silence . . . or I’ll claim the throne as my own.

  Henry: Go ahead. You’ll be begging me to take it back within a fortnight.

  A wry smile pulled at my lips. I stared up at the ceiling and took in a deep breath. Okay, so maybe it wasn’t perfe
ct. And maybe my hosts didn’t love me—yet. But it was just a matter of time. And my time as a prince in disguise was just beginning. There was bound to be all sorts of entertainment in my future. Not every American girl could be as fun-hating as Tori.

  The good times were coming.

  4

  Tori

  By the time our new guest came strutting down the staircase for supper, the food had already been made and the table set. I stuffed the NHS application I’d been working on out of sight and gave him a thin smile. August looked down at our colorful table setting as if it were cute we were trying so hard to impress him. I’d tried to use the regular plates, but Grandpa had insisted on using Grandma’s old china collection. It’d been stuffed in the bottom of the old wooden hutch since she’d passed away ten years ago. It kind of hurt to think that our stuck-up, snobbish new house guest would be the first to use them. It wasn’t fair.

  And boy, was August a snob. It had been clear from the first moment I’d set eyes on him. I could tell in the way he held himself. Stiff and proper, his spine as straight as a rod of iron. But worst of all was his smile. The cocky way he grinned at me made me want to roll my eyes every time we made eye contact. It was the smile of a player.

  Other girls would’ve called it seductive. I’m pretty sure Erin would’ve fallen into a puddle of drool at the sight of it. Me? It was about as effective on me as all of his other traits.

  Just because a boy showed up with a head of gorgeous curls, a strong jaw, black-coffee eyes, and a foreign accent didn’t mean a girl had to go all goo-goo eyed. I was made of stronger stuff than that.

  August needed to know where the lines were drawn around here. I couldn’t have someone like him coming in and messing everything up that we’d worked so hard to rebuild. Obviously, Grandpa was too busy with work to keep an eye on him. It was going to be up to me to lay down the law.

  “I hope you like tacos in Valta,” Grandpa said, carrying a hot dish to the table. He set it on a pad and waved away the steam coming from the top. “We always do tacos on Sunday night. It’s a Thorpe tradition. Have a seat wherever you’d like.”

  “Tacos sound delightful.” August paused behind one of the chairs and motioned to me. “Ladies, first.”

  “Yeah. Okay,” I said with a snort.

  As I took my seat, I made a mental note to keep Erin as far away from August as possible. She was going to snatch him up if he talked to her that way. It was my job to protect her. All a guy had to do was one decent thing, and she was putty in his hands—even if he later turned out to be a massive jerk. It had happened enough times to her already that I knew how to spot them right away. August was a walking neon sign advertising a guy who would open the door for a girl today but leave her alone crying beneath the bleachers tomorrow.

  Not on my watch.

  Grandpa sat across from me in his usual spot. He started passing the dish with the hard shells and smiled hard at both of us. “I hope jet lag won’t hit you too hard tomorrow on your first day of school.”

  “Not at all. I’m used to long hours and crazy schedules,” August said. He took the plate from Grandpa and deftly plucked a shell from it before passing it to me with a wink.

  “You’ll have to learn how to slow down here,” I said, sweetly smiling at him as he passed me the next plate. “Nothing ever happens in Sweet Mountain. I mean, one time, a shed burned down at school, but that was about it. We’re terribly boring.”

  “That’s not completely true.” Grandpa’s brow wrinkled with thought. “Just last year, one of your classmates was discovered, and practically overnight, he became a Hollywood star.”

  “Yeah, but I’m sure that’s not very exciting to August.” I pointed at him with my fork. “He probably knows lots of Hollywood stars already. No, I think August seems like the kind of guy that likes to keep busy. You know, clubbing and stuff. There’s none of that here. And besides that, Grandpa has a strict curfew. He wouldn’t want us out there making trouble.”

  August watched me carefully, his eyes sparkling with humor as if he knew exactly what I was doing. I shrugged innocently at him and took a bite of my food.

  “We’ve never talked about a curfew before,” Grandpa said, confusion washing over his face. He shook the hot sauce bottle and dabbed a bit on his taco. “I don’t think you’ve ever asked to go out in the evening for something that wasn’t a school event. If you want to go out, Tori, all you have to do is ask. Same goes for you, August. I’d like to see you make some American friends before you have to head back home.”

  I nearly choked on my food as August grinned victoriously across the table at me. Grandpa was totally missing what I was throwing down. He could’ve taken that moment to enforce a new, strict set of rules to keep Mr. Cocky-Smiles-A-Lot in his place, but he’d totally failed. I would’ve kicked him in the shins to get my point across, but he probably would’ve thought I was suffering from restless leg syndrome. It was time to be a little more direct.

  “Don’t you think we need to have some rules going forward?” I asked, setting my taco down. “I mean, having two teenagers in the house isn’t going to be easy.”

  “Says the teenager.” August tilted his head to one side, his eyes flashing with laughter. “Or are you a ninety-year-old dowager in disguise? I haven’t quite figured it out yet. The jumper is quite confusing.”

  I fiddled with the pearl buttons on my cardigan, heat flaring in my cheeks. “I like this sweater.”

  “The color is becoming on you,” he said with a quirk of his lips.

  I wasn’t completely sure if I should take that as a compliment or an insult. I’d hardly known the kid for more than an hour, and already everything was topsy-turvy. Half the time, it felt like he was hitting on me, and the other felt like he was insulting me in a way that only Europeans could understand. That only added to my growing dread about this whole situation. Turning to my grandpa, I arched my brows and gave him my most grown-up stare.

  “Grandpa, I think we need to have a family discussion on this. I’m serious.”

  He swallowed down a chunk of food, panic flashing in the blue of his eyes. Gingerly wiping the corners of his mouth with his napkin, he cleared his throat and then smiled politely at me. “Tori, we can most certainly have this discussion at some point. However, I am certain that August is here to put his best foot forward and form quality international relationships. I trust him to behave himself.”

  The smug look on August’s face made me lose what was left of my appetite. I stirred the vegetables on my plate, wishing for once that Grandpa wasn’t so afraid of confrontation. It was what held him back at work and probably had a lot to do with the fact that everyone in Sweet Mountain associated my mother’s name with trouble.

  I could still vividly remember the look on my first-grade teacher’s face when I told her my mom’s name. Even a six-year-old could recognize dread when she saw it. I’d told Grandpa about it when I came home that night, but he’d told me to hold my chin high and just push through. People would always talk, no matter what we did. And he was right. I pushed through. But that didn’t take away the anxiety of living beneath my mother’s shadow.

  Not that I blamed him or even Grandma for that. They’d had their hands full with raising their teen daughter’s baby. But seriously, now was not the time to throw in the towel.

  We’d already come so far in fixing our names around here.

  We didn’t need another reason for people to hate us.

  I opened my mouth to set into round two of the argument when a knock came at the back door. Grandpa stood up a little too quickly, probably all too glad for the timely interruption. At the back door, Olive peeked in through the windows, her crazy curls held back by a set of red plastic-framed glasses attached to a bejeweled string of beads that wrapped around her neck.

  “Come on in, Olive,” he called.

  She swept into the kitchen as she had a hundred times before, holding a covered baking dish aloft. With a devious grin, she set the dis
h on the island and surveyed our meal.

  “I thought I’d bring dessert, but, oh my, I’m interrupting supper, aren’t I?”

  “Not at all. Not at all.” Grandpa rushed to grab another set of the china. “Please, join us. August, this is Olive, our neighbor. She’s practically family, so you can talk freely in front of her. Olive, this is August. We were just waiting for him to tell us all about his home country.”

  Grandpa’s change of topic was obviously a bookend on our conversation about the rules. I sagged in my seat as Olive took the one next to me and beamed at August. She elbowed me good-naturedly and leaned down to whisper in my ear.

  “Oooh, girl. I don’t know how you’re going to survive this next year. He’s positively cute, don’t you think?”

  Heat rushed to my face. August was busy taking a bite of his taco, but I could tell by the slight twitch in his jaw that he’d heard Olive’s question loud enough. It was clear the guy knew he was good looking. He didn’t need me to pump him up anymore.

  “Did you get that eye appointment you needed this week, Olive? I know your prescription is getting a bit out of date. Might want to check on that.”

  She cackled loudly, and I could’ve sworn August’s neck turned red. Satisfaction rushed down my spine like a warm shower. Grandpa sat back in his chair and grinned at each of us, once again, completely clueless as to what had gone down in front of him. He set Olive’s dessert on the table, which consisted of a tray full of the most beautifully decorated homemade donuts, encrusted with bright frosting and sugary cereals as sprinkles. It was no surprise to me that August took one look at them and then snatched up the biggest and fanciest one. He stared at it, his eyes growing huge.