Something in the Heir (It's Reigning Men, #1) (8 page)

“What’s a big box store?”

“Giant warehouse retailers that sell everything from ride-on mowers to boxer briefs, and anything in between. Cradle to grave, in a depressing sort of way. For that matter they probably sell caskets, depressingly enough.”

“Gee, can’t wait to see it.”

“At least there’s a liquor store nearby too, so we can stock up while we’re out.”

“You’re planning on drunken debauchery this week?”

“Maybe not debauchery, but we
are
at the beach... It’s a given that you have cocktails while on vacation. Even in the off-season. Even if it’s not exactly a vacation, and more like a hideout.”

After a short drive, Emma pulled the car into a small strip mall and they got out at
Where’s the Beach?,
her favorite surf shop in town. Adrian looked skeptical but followed along obligingly.

Inside there were few signs of the season, with racks and racks of board shorts and displays of sunglasses and flip-flops and lots of surfboards.

“Hoping they do a brisk business in Christmas gifts for people jonesing for summer,” Emma said. She looked into his eyes and saw the question and shook her head. “It means yearning.”

“Gotcha.”

“Do you sell any clothes that might offer a little wintertime warmth?” she asked the very bored-looking store clerk with tat sleeves up both arms with a semi-shorn head and a thatch of green hair covering both of his eyes. He struggled to detach his line of vision from his smart phone, but finally mustered up the effort to point to a rack of pants and sweats toward the back of the store.

“Perfect,” she said. “We’ll find something.” She started whipping through the rack, pulling off a few sweatshirts and a pair of jeans and some sweat pants. “What do you think?”

Adrian studied the selection she held up. “A bit casual from what I normally wear, but I think these will do.”

“In that case, fashion show time,” Emma said, pointing to the dressing room. She was fairly certain he’d never stepped foot into a broom closet with a burlap curtain, the only thing closing the distance between his unclad self and the rest of the world. If he wasn’t careful he’d expose his royal hiney to all the world — or at least her and Greenie McTatster over there.

One by one, though, he emerged from his dressing room, showing Emma the threads.

“Oooh,” she squealed. “Turn. Be a super model, strut your stuff, man!”

Adrian shook his head and laughed, playing along faux-posing for her. She clapped so loud the clerk glared at her. She stuck out her tongue in defiance. After he’d returned to texting his punk rock band or whatever had him so glued to that darned phone.

When Adrian came out in the skinny jeans and long-sleeved cotton T-shirt, Emma did a double-take.
Take a picture, it lasts longer
, she thought, trying to persuade herself not to gape at the hottie heir to the throne in front of her.

“Damn,” she muttered.

“Something wrong?” he asked.

“Oh, God. No. I’m sorry. There is decidedly nothing wrong.”

“You don’t like these then?”

“To the contrary,” she said. “I’m going to have to keep you hidden in the house because if any women get one look at you in that, they’re going to be elbowing me out of the way to get to you. As your protector, I feel an obligation to ensure your safety from rabid females. Not that there are many at the beach in December.”
Thank goodness.
.

“So America is full of aggressive females willing to accost a man in blue jeans?”

“You’re not exactly a ‘man in blue jeans,’ Adrian. More like a shining example of eye candy at its finest.”

“Eye candy?”

“Yes. Eye candy. Think Gisele Bundchen, male version. With an especially nice ass.”
Oh my God, did I really just say that to him?

Adrian just smiled.

“I guess that means I’ll take these.”

“In every color, I’d suggest," Emma said, cringing at her inability to self-edit in front of the guy. “In the meantime, just leave those on. And let’s grab you a North Face jacket, which will hide at least part of you from those overly assertive women.”

“You mean those rabid females?”

“I didn’t mean female rabbits, if that’s what you’re asking.” She gave him a teasing smirk.

“Man, I almost forgot,” she said, snapping her fingers. “Those fancy shoes of yours are so not okay with your new duds. We’d best grab you a pair of Rainbows. I know it’s cold out, but you can get by with these.” She asked his shoe size and pulled a pair from the wall display. He looked leery about flip-flops, regardless of the season, but shrugged.

He finally decided on a few tops and pants, paid for them and they departed.

“I hesitate to share this with you, but now that I’ve got the outerwear, I still need something for underneath them,” Adrian said.

She hit her forehead with the heel of her hand. “Of course! How could I forget? That means a diversion to the big box store Caro and I call ‘WallyWorld’. Brace yourself for culture shock.”

They made the fifteen-minute drive to the closest large town, and Emma grabbed his hand as they entered the store. “Okay, first off, you get a prize.”

“A prize?”

“Yep! A sticker. Just for being you.”

As she spoke, a plump, gray-haired woman with thick-lensed glasses that enlarged her eyes to an unnatural proportion handed them each a smiley face sticker.

“What do you think?” Emma asked. “Is it your lucky day or what?”

Adrian thought about that for a minute, looking straight into Emma’s eyes. “All things considered, I’d say it most certainly is.” Emma glanced away, too terrified to be burned by such a heated glance. “Yeah, well, we’re keeping you far from that temptress Serena, so it has to be a lucky one.”

They wandered the aisles, with Adrian marveling at the bizarre selection, the occasionally equally bizarre patrons, and the fact that you could buy anything from food to fertilizer to clothing to trash cans all in one place.

“Overwhelming?”

“You could say that. I’m glad I have you as my navigator. I don’t think anything about running away from my life prepared me for this place. I’d likely be curled up in a ball in the corner of the store without your guidance.” He smiled at her.

“And now, not only do you have brand new sexy black boxer briefs and a toothbrush, but you’ve also got the knowledge of how to shop like regular folk. All good.” She linked arms with his as they left the store. “Next stop, groceries!”

Once in the grocery store, they made the rounds and she grabbed essentials as they went. “Frozen pizza sound good?”

“I couldn’t begin to answer that question. I’ve never had it. You decide.”

“It’ll make a decent lunch this week. We’ll grab some beer, some fruit, something for breakfast — you ever have French toast? How about steaks? We’ll grill out in the thirty-degree weather and pretend it’s July. Let me also find a couple of bottles of wine.” She continued talking to herself out loud as she gathered up the needed food items, and at the check-out she threw a copy of
People
in her cart. “A little light reading,” she said with a laugh, half-wondering if she’d find Adrian or any of his peeps within the folds of the magazine. From here on out she was going to have to pay closer attention to the royalty gossip therein.

~*~

A
s they got in the car to return to the beach house, Emma’s stomach let out a loud growl. “In case there was any question as to whether I was a classy broad, I think that settles it,” she said. “But that does remind me...it’s past lunch time and a shrimp burger sounds scary good right now.”

“Shrimp burger?” Adrian asked, dubious.

“Trust me, this will become your best friend,” she said. Ten minutes later they were turning into the dilapidated parking lot at the Big Oak Diner, a hole-in-the-wall take-out restaurant specializing in all things fried, but especially the holy grail of grease, the shrimp burger.

“Might I take the liberty of ordering for you?” Emma asked.

Adrian shrugged. “When in Rome...”

She ordered two shrimp burgers, a side of hush puppies, and two chocolate shakes, just to add to their clogged arteries. “You only live once, my friend,” she said to Adrian, handing her cash to the clerk.

They both watched through the carryout window as their meal was prepared: a steamed bun topped with tartar sauce and coleslaw, followed by a mound of fried shrimp, and finished with a fat dollop of ketchup.

“Beats the royal kitchens, eh?” she said, rubbing her hands together against the winter chill in the air.

“I’ll let you know once I try this thing.” He reached out and rubbed her arms with his hands, willing her blood to warm her up more. His touch was remarkably toasty even through her winter coat.

“Don’t think we can eat these outside today,” she said. “Looks like it’s dashboard dining instead.”

Emma grabbed the bag as the server handed it out the pass-through window, and motioned for Adrian to get the milkshakes. She hit the unlock button on her car remote, quickly got into the driver’s seat, then handed Adrian his food, setting up the hush puppies atop the console between their seats.

“Bon appétit,” Emma said. “Or as they say ‘round here, dig in!”

Adrian took a bite and let it linger in his mouth for a minute. Emma watched, hoping he wasn’t about to spit it out on her lap. He began to chew and then let out a moan.

“My God, this is incredible,” he said, taking another bite. “And to think my mother warned me about Americans lacking in taste.”

“That mother of yours sounds like she needs an attitude adjustment.”

“It’s complicated,” Adrian said. “I’m afraid my mother is from the old school, and she’s not particularly interested in keeping up with the times. She’s lost perspective. She has always done as she was told, followed the straight and narrow. She expected the same of me and my brothers and sister. All while watching royalty decline in Europe, with her trying to sustain things they way they used to be. I think it’s been hard for her. Times have changed, the world has modernized greatly. And while within the borders of our island nation, our family is highly regarded and appreciated, certainly in the greater world there are those who would love to see all royal ways disappear. It saddens my mother and I think she blames all this modernity for it. But I think you have an American saying, what is it? You can’t fight city hall? Progress happens, like it or not. I think my mother is coming around to that way of thinking, but ever so slowly.”

“And not fast enough to allow you to marry whom you choose, rather than the very one you’d least choose?”

“Unfortunately.”

“Can you imagine how aghast your mother would be to know you’re sitting with a commoner in her beat-up Volvo, in your skinny jeans and North Face jacket, munching on a shrimp burger? Poor thing, it would probably kill her.”

“She’ll have to deal with it.”

“Not really,” Emma said. “It’s not as if she’s ever going to know about this.”

Adrian shrugged. “I can’t hide forever. At some point my hand will be forced. And I’m not going to pretend this week never happened. After all, so far it’s turning out to be one of the more entertaining times I’ve had in the past several years.”

“Really? You’re having a good time?”

He looked at her with raised eyebrows. “You have to ask me that? I force you to take me with you, then you’re stuck practically going off the grid with me, you’re introducing me to a whole new — and perfectly fascinating — world. How could it be anything but fabulous?”

Emma thought about that for a second, chewing on a hush puppy while she considered it. “It’s not exactly a yacht off the south of France, you know,” she said. “Or an African safari. Or a few hundred other exciting adventures I’m sure you could be doing instead of experiencing my boring lifestyle, up close and personal.”

“But it is
your
adventure that you’ve introduced to me,” he said. “And that makes it —and your life— just about perfect. You’ll never know how much I owe you for this, Emma.”

“Eh. Owe schmowe. This is my pleasure. I mean, how many people like me get the chance to hang with someone like you?”

“I could say the same.”

“Then please, do,” she said, laughing. “But really, I was in a huge funk when you accosted me. Lucky me that you’ve dragged me out of my pouty state.”

“Pouty? You? You don’t seem as if you have a care in the world.”

“Trust me, I’ve got cares that have cares.”

“Name one.”

Did she really want to start moaning about her boring life to him? How could he even relate to it?

She let out a sigh. “Oh, I don’t know. On paper I have it great. A wonderful job with lots of flexibility. I meet interesting people, and have plenty of variety in my work. I get access to things most people could never dream of — I mean, look! Twelve hours ago I was photographing royalty with the President of the United States! How cool is that? But I just keep feeling like there’s something missing. I’m twenty-six years old. I’m a veteran of so many bad relationships I could write a country-western album about all the cheaters and reprobates I’ve settled for who couldn’t even be bothered settling for me. Talk about feeling like a reject, when the losers don’t even want you!

“I guess maybe I’m lonely. I have a nice little house. Wonderful family and friends. A great job that I’m kind of bored with — I always feel like an outsider at someone else’s party when I’m at work. Maybe because I am. But I picked it, so why am I complaining? Especially since I’ve been so successful at it. Weird, isn’t it? Sorry, I prattled on a little more than I ought to have. I should shut up now before I start hearing crickets, huh?”

She looked over at Adrian, who sat in rapt attention but didn’t say a word.

“Well?”

He remained quiet for another minute. Talk about crickets.

“Okay, then, I guess we’ll head back,” she said, trying to fill dead air.

“I’m sorry,” Adrian said. “I’m not ignoring you. I’m just processing all that information you gave me. It’s a lot, you know.”

“Yeah, I have a bad habit of oversharing.”

Adrian shook. “Not that I’ve noticed, you don’t. And while I haven’t seen the photographs you’ve taken, I have to presume you’re pretty talented. Otherwise you’d never have been hired for the kinds of things you shoot. I can assure you my embassy wouldn’t have hired you if they didn’t have complete faith in your skills. So I hope that’s slight consolation, for what it’s worth.”