Lost King by Piper Lennox (moboreader txt) 📗

When I bite my lip and look up from my menu, watching him behind my curls, I could swear I hear his breath catch.

“Um...well,” he stammers, blinking as he peruses the wine menu, “I guess it depends on whether you’d like sweet or dry.”

I make a face like I’m just so clueless. “Are there any kind of...in-between?”

“Sure.” He drags his finger down the menu, then scoots his chair closer to show me. “I think you’d like these. And this one here is excellent. But I might be biased—I know the owners of the vineyard.”

Jesus. Of course you do.

At my insistence (which is really just total indifference with a smile), he chooses. When the wine arrives, he shows me how to swirl it in the glass so it “opens up,” whatever the hell that means, and then how to spread it across my palate. He talks about notes and profiles and grape varieties, all the while moving his hand closer to mine on the perfectly ironed tablecloth.

“Sorry,” he blurts suddenly, lowering his glass, “I’m rambling about all this stupid stuff, when you probably just want to drink it in peace.”

Bingo. Wine, coffee, chocolate—why dissect it? Just savor, enjoy, and move on.

“No, not at all!” I close my hand over his. “I think it’s fascinating you know all of this.”

He glances at our hands. I do the same, pretending I just now noticed, and force my millionth blush as I draw away.

Theo smiles and takes another sip, this time just drinking it normally. “I’ve studied it a lot, actually. For a few years I thought about becoming a sommelier, but....” He trails, then shrugs. “I don’t know. I’m worried I wouldn’t love it anymore, if I had to do it to earn a living.”

Please. Like he’ll ever need to concern himself with “earning” anything.

“Are your parents in the wine business?” I drown my snark with a long gulp. Without asking, Theo refills my glass.

“My dad’s in real estate, actually. Workaholic type.”

“The money’s probably really good.”

Theo sits back and shakes his head, toying with the golden tassel on his menu. “That’s part of it, but I think he’s mostly afraid to have free time.”

“How come?”

“I’m not sure. We don’t really talk about that stuff. We don’t talk much at all, anymore.” His laugh makes the tealight flicker. “God, I sound like a latchkey kid, don’t I? ‘Woe is me, my dad’s never around.’ Not exactly a problem when you’re pushing twenty-three.”

“My mom was like that. Always working overtime, even when she didn’t have to. You start wondering, like...do they even want to come home?”

My admission surprises him. “Exactly.”

It scares the hell out of me.

No more deviating off-character, I order myself. I’m not here for candlelight confessions.

“Um...anyway.” I open my own menu and scan the dishes. Every item is ridiculously overpriced. Twenty-one dollars for salmon and rice? “So you’re twenty-two? Did you just finish college?”

“I’m afraid you’re in the presence of a certified dropout.”

“Really? Why?”

“Just wasn’t right for me. At that time in my life, anyway. Why commit to a degree when you don’t even know what you want to do with your life yet?”

Underneath the table, his knee bumps mine. Instinct makes me yank it back, until I remember I’m supposed to not be appalled at the idea of Theo touching me.

“My dad was pissed,” he goes on, laughing to himself. “He’d already told all his colleagues and clients I was there, so whenever they’d ask how my studies were going, he’d have to tell them I just up and left halfway through.”

“It must have been a really good school, if he was bragging on you like that.”

Theo takes a breath through his teeth, glancing up at me. I wait, then motion for him to continue.

He pushes his hand through his hair. “Juilliard.”

“You dropped out of Juilliard?” I blurt, gaping at him. I actually mean it. Who the hell drops out of a school like that?

You know that answer, I remind myself, settling down while Theo laughs and shushes me, his neck reddening.

People who didn’t have to risk anything, especially not their own money, to get in—that’s who. When you’ve got nothing real invested in something, it’s easy to walk away.

How younger me ever looked at this guy and thought he was just so different from the others, I have no clue. They’re all the same: snobby, carefree, and entitled.

“Wow.” More wine. It’s the only conceivable way to get through this meal. “You, uh...you must have been really talented, to get in there.”

Or your dad’s checkbook is even larger than I thought. I’ve met enough musicians to know talent helps…but the ability to pay tuition in full helps more.

“I’m okay,” he shrugs shyly. As good-looking as that face is, I still want to slap it. The only thing more annoying than a lack of humility is fake humility, and I’m sure he’s got enough to fill every wine bottle on earth.

“What do you play?”

“We’ve been talking about me a lot, so far.” Theo pours the last of the wine into my glass and nods at me. “Tell me something about you.”

The alcohol helps my flirting, but not my conversation. All I can think to say are true things—none of which align with the character I’ve built in my head all these years.

That version of Ruby, the fake one, was going to be from a posh upper-class family much like his own, who shunned her family’s money for moral reasons and took a job cleaning houses to earn her own way. She was going to be new in town, a convenient excuse for Theo Durham to show her the sights.

She’s