Crown Jewels (Off-Limits Romance #1)(68)

It doesn’t seem as appealing with Lucy here.

I think over the guest list, from the polo team to the many women who will flock here later tonight, trying to think if anyone will cause trouble. Not just for me, but for Lucy, too.

I wonder if I should take her somewhere else for the night. Somewhere it can be just the two of us. I pull on my robe just as Beth knocks on my door, handing me the bath salts when I answer. I see her gaze flit to the bed, and Lucy, still curled up asleep. I’m surprised when she looks back at me with a knowing smile. I can’t help scowling.

What does she know?

“Lucy…” I shake her shoulder.

She jumps up with a gasp.

“Hey…” I smile. “It’s just me.”

“Holy hell!” She covers her eyes. “I was dreaming about prairie dogs.”

I can’t help a roar of laughter. “Prairie dogs?”

“Yes! They’re so cute and little but they have these teeth…” She shudders, draws the sheet around herself.

I pinch her arm. “Little biting teeth?”

“Yes.” She draws up in a ball. “Don’t bite me with prairie dog teeth.” I chuckle, and she yawns.

I throw her over my shoulder and carry her into the bathroom.

“You think I’m dirty?”

“Oh, I know you are.”

I set her down in the tub, and Lucy sinks into the bubbles, stirring tendrils of steam. With her dark hair waving around her shoulders, she looks like a goddess—or a witch.

I hand her the bath salts, and she pours some in the water.

“Mmmm.” She inhales slowly. “These smell amazing. Lavender?” She picks the bottle up and squints at its label. “Lavender vanilla. Even better.”

I swallow, forcing a smile. “So—tonight. My cousin is having the party here tonight. You want to go somewhere else?”

“Do you?”

“It’s your choice. You’re my guest.”

She splashes me. “Get in the tub with me. We’ll both keep our hands to ourselves. We’ll just talk like we’re friends.”

I arch a brow at her, not sure if I believe we can manage. I know I shouldn’t get in, but of course, I do. I step out of my boxer-briefs, set my robe aside, and sink into the giant tub across from her.

“I think this is the first request I’ve gotten to get into a bath with a woman.”

She splashes me. And then she wants to wash my hair. When she’s finished, and I’m feeling hot and drunk from relaxation, she asks questions. Lots of questions.

How old was I when I threw my first party? (Thirteen—at boarding school).

How old was I when I lost my virginity? (Also thirteen—and also at school).

What’s my favorite food? (Lamb chops).

Favorite candy? (Butterscotch).

Favorite band? (Rolling Stones).

Favorite season? (Fall).

Favorite high school memory? (Covert whiskey shots in my room at school with Dec and a few other guys).

Favorite animal? (Elephant).

“Wow, really?”

I smile. “Really. Why?”

“I don’t know. I thought you’d say the cheetah or a tiger or something.”

“Elephants are smart. They’re empathetic.”

“Are they?” she asks.

“Yeah. They’re really beautiful animals. You should meet one sometime.”

Lucy gets a good laugh out of that. By the time we get out of the bath, my hands and feet look like prunes, and I’ve told Lucy what feels like almost everything about myself—except the one thing that I can’t.





TWENTY-FIVE Lucy





“Favorite book?”

I started this massive question and answer session as a way of working my way toward asking if he’s ever had a pregnancy scare. So I can learn how best to bring up our pregnancy reality.

I don’t think before I ask his favorite book.

His eyes are on mine, but when I ask the question, he shifts his gaze down to the surface of the water.

“I don’t really know,” he says, looking up into my eyes after a moment. “I recently started using Audible. I like political thrillers I think. And books about space.”

“Space?”

He nods. “Like outer space and space ships.”

“Oh—nonfiction?”

“Yeah.”

That makes me grin. “That’s pretty dorky, party boy.”

He lifts his brows. “And what do you like, Lucille?”

As he asks, he stretches his leg out so he can rub the outside of my thigh with his foot.

“I like romance. Sometimes mystery. Women’s fiction. Sometimes even sci-fi or spec fiction. I’ve been reading as an escape since I was little. Concord is so tiny, there wasn’t much to do.”

He nods, and I feel comfortable enough to ask something I’ve been wondering. “Is dyslexia genetic? Like…does your father have it?”

He shakes his head.

“Did your mom?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t really…know that much about her,” he says with obvious difficulty.

“Damn. I’m sorry, Liam.”

He inhales slowly. Lets his breath out. “At boarding school, I had tutors. I did math and science with everyone else, but they had a bullshit story why for English and history and things, I studied alone, or with Dec. I got accepted into Oxford because of who I am. I didn’t really have the grades. I stayed there two semesters before…” He shakes his head. “There aren’t enough tutors in the world.”