His Royal Highness(23)

I’m aware that we’re starting to gather an audience. Ryan just entered the room and is heading our way. In a few moments, the area will be swarming with families.

“I don’t drink coffee anymore.”

I had three cups just this morning while pacing in my dorm room, shooting the dark liquid back like an alcoholic chugging Listerine. Maybe that’s why I’m acting so crazy now.

A whisper of a smirk transforms his face into something entirely too pleasing. Every nerve ending inside me sighs in bliss.

“Lunch then?”

“I don’t have time…this century.”

He laughs, a rich sound sourced from his broad muscled chest. “I’m confused. You’re upset with me because I turned you down for a date a decade ago, but just now, you declined me twice. Maybe I should be the one upset with you.”

My jaw drops, but before I can utter a response, Ryan steps up beside me, touching my arm.

“Morning, Whit.”

Derek and I are still staring each other down, our eyes locked in battle.

He mouths, “Whit?”

My nostrils flare, and through a superhuman feat, I yank my attention away from him and greet Ryan with a warm smile.

“Good morning, Ryan.”

He grins at me before letting his gaze shift to Derek. He nods in greeting. “Hey man, what’s up? I think I’m supposed to be training you today.”

I want to look at Derek so badly, to see his reaction to all of this, but I refuse on principle.

“That’s the plan,” Derek says with a slight hint of indignation coloring his otherwise polite tone.

“Cool. So you can just watch me and see how I interact with the guests and stuff.”

Ryan, you bumbling fool! Don’t you realize who you’re talking to?

“Sounds easy enough.”

“Yeah. It’ll be kind of funny though, to have two of us down here.”

“It won’t be for long,” Derek assures him.

That information is too tempting to let die.

“Oh?” I perk up. “How long exactly? In minutes, please.”

They both ignore me.

Ryan reaches out to greet Derek. “I’m Ryan, by the way. I’ve been working here for a few months now. If you need help figuring out the Underground or parking validation or whatever, let me know.”

A groan bursts out of me. I can’t let this continue. “Don’t you know who this is, Ryan? Derek Knightley. He’s the real prince around here.”

I slap a hand over my mouth like I’m trying to plug a leak. The catty low blows just keep on coming. This isn’t like me. I’m pleasant. Generally kind!

Derek should fire me on the spot for insolence, but I swear each one of my remarks makes him happier than the last.

He’s studying me, a real smirk on his lips, when Ryan jumps into our otherwise private moment.

“Wait, you’re Derek Knightley? No shit? That’s awesome! Can we get a picture?”

Oh dear god.

This is where the phrase surviving not thriving originated, surely. As they usher the first round of children into the room and their laughter echoes off the stone walls, I take my place with Ryan at my left and Derek on my right. He stands a few feet behind me—more in the shadows than Ryan—so it’s impossible to see him without turning around. I swear I can feel his eyes on me, his gaze hot on my back. I imagine him following the delicate fabric of my bodice down my spine. My body reacts like he’s touching me—goose bumps bloom down my arms—and on a whim, just before the first child runs toward me for a hug, I chance a shy glance over my shoulder.

Sure enough, his brown eyes lock with mine. My hands fist at my sides.

His smile is gone and his dark brows are furrowed in thought.

Ryan’s hand hits the base of my spine and Derek’s eyes follow it, narrowing.

“You’re up, princess,” Ryan says, his words a whisper against my ear.

I shiver and Derek sees. He thinks I’m reacting to Ryan.

I should be reacting to Ryan. He’s the one I wanted up until a few days ago. Him and Fudge Guy and Mr. Paycheck Man. They were all names scribbled on an imaginary list of potential love interests, men I thought I could eventually fall for…given enough time. Yet now it feels like Derek is coming in à la Miley and taking a wrecking ball to all those preconceived feelings. Every single conversation I’ve had with Ryan pales in comparison to this short-lived, no-words-needed standoff with Derek. I know I’ll go to sleep tonight thinking of him. I know I’ll dread making it through another shift with him standing behind me. I haven’t even made it through the first one.

Mostly, it sucks knowing that in eight years, I’ve never succeeded in stealing my heart back from Derek.

Maybe it’s time I try a little harder.





Chapter Seven





Derek





“Mommy, why is that man scowling?” the little girl asks, pointing straight at me.

“He’s in character, sweetie. He must be a villain in the story. Don’t be frightened.”

Whitney’s sputtering-laugh-turned-cough draws my attention to the back of her head. I want her to turn around, but she won’t. She hasn’t since her shift started. I think she’s too chicken. Or maybe she’s just too busy working.