Royal Distraction by Lucy McConnell (love story novels in english TXT) 📗

familial relationship. He didn’t care if she was the king’s niece or whatever. Someone out there might, though, so he could understand the need to keep her identity a secret. Once he was living on the island, there would be no more need to hide.

The thought gave him pause. No more need to hide.

Neese wasn’t the only one hiding something. He hadn’t told her why he wanted to meet with the princess—hadn’t revealed anything about his company. His stomach churned, and he didn’t think it had anything to do with the copious amount of sugar and Crisco he’d inhaled. If he was serious about pursuing Neese, he would need to tell her everything. Not today. There wasn’t room on a first date for all his baggage. There might not be enough room in a full-blown relationship for the amount of baggage he carried.

When he returned to the table, Neese was on her feet, her phone tucked into her purse. Tatum offered his arm. She slipped her hand into the crook and he pressed a kiss to her hair without thinking.

She stared up at him. “What was that for?”

“I—I couldn’t help myself. It just seemed natural.” The kiss hadn’t been thought out; he just did it as if he had the right. “Why? Was it wrong for me to kiss you?” There were Zimradian laws about these things.

Neese leaned closer. “It wasn’t wrong, Tatum.” Her cheeks turned that deep red shade again and her thick lashes lowered. “I just wanted to know what I’d done to earn it. Then, perhaps, I could repeat the action.”

Tatum turned so they were facing one another. He brushed her cheek with the backs of his fingers. “You don’t have to do anything. For some reason, I just want to kiss you.”

“Right now?” She grabbed a handful of his sleeve, her eyes in a panic.

He glanced around the almost empty bakery. The big guy was giving him a hard look. The kind of look that could kill a mood. The woman behind the counter was openly staring, daring him to go for it. The old lady with the dog outside tsked her tongue. “Probably not here.”

She nodded, releasing his shirt. “Of course.” She smoothed out the wrinkles in the fabric.

All traces of panic left her face, but he wondered what put them there. He wasn’t smooth with the ladies and he wondered if he’d pushed her too far. “Are you—do I make you scared?”

“What? Me?” She giggled. “Noooooo.”

“Good.” He pulled open the door, letting the light rain fall onto the hardwood floor. Neese pulled a tiny umbrella from her purse and popped it open. Tatum slipped an arm behind her and crowded under the covering on the way to his car. “Because you terrify me.”

“Me?” she pressed a hand to her chest. “I am the least frightening creature on my island.”

They made it to his car and he pressed the button to unlock the doors. He disagreed with her statement, but his reasons were all jumbled up like an extension cord left to its own devices. She gracefully ducked into the car and he tucked her skirt in before shutting the door.

While her innocence was like a warm ocean breeze, it also brought out the protective side of him. He wanted to shelter her from the world. That’s why he’d offered to show her a unique American experience. If he sent her into the city on her own, she’d be a sitting duck for those who prey upon the virtuous to work over. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been around someone so fresh off the farm—er, fresh off the island, as it were.

He jangled his keys. All the sitting around and healing he’d done gave him way too much time to think. Thinking made him soft. Soft meant he did things like show off pictures of his niece and kiss beautiful women who smelled like mint and oranges.

Some part of him believed that the more time they spent together, the less he’d feel the need to be with Neese. However, the opposite happened. After finishing desserts, he didn’t want to let her go.

Chapter Ten

Nyssa followed Tatum inside a large, cavernous room with neon lights, a stale smell, and many screens hung on the walls. He marched over to a glass counter and paid the attendant.

“Here, try these on,” the attendant said, his bald head reflecting the pink and blue neon sign behind him.

Nyssa tucked a stray hair behind her ear and turned to Tatum. “On my island, we wear sandals.”

“Sure.” Tatum lifted one shoulder. One broad, strong shoulder. The men on her island were not skinny, but they were not built like Tatum. No wonder she was drawn to America as a teenaged girl.

She blinked away her not-so-teenaged thoughts and continued, “We don’t fall in love with shoes like American women.”

“Ok-ay.” He looked down at his scuffed boots—which were perfect for him. His forehead crinkled as he tried to figure out where she was going with her random statements.

Nyssa pulled the scuffed and stained bowling shoes off the counter, a dirty shoelace dangling. “But even I can tell that these are hideous.”

He burst out laughing and hooked an arm around her shoulders, giving her an up-close-and-personal feel of all those healthy muscles. He really needed to come home with her and spend some time on the pink beaches of Zimrada, where shirts were optional—for the men, at least. She lounged in the image as they made their way past a game center and food stand.

“You’re telling me.” She lifted her eyebrow in a don’t-tease-me gesture. “Americans borrow shoes for fun.”

“Yes, we do.” He grinned. “Although I haven’t participated in this type of fun since high school.”

She crinkled her nose. “Dare I ask what other activities you participated in?”

“Steer wrestlin’, pig wrestlin’, goat tyin’.”

He was milking his country-boy charm for all he was worth, and she loved it. Loved that he was putting on a show just for her. His attention was unnerving,