Royal Distraction Lucy McConnell (ebook reader online TXT) 📖

this guy. The guy who shared pictures of his niece and wanted to hold a woman’s hand for the sheer pleasure of touching her.

Maybe this was some weird form of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder manifesting itself. He and Nelson underwent evaluations with a psychiatrist after every mission—their whole crew did. It was standard procedure. Most of the time, the guys checked out. Every once in a while, usually when there was an injury, guys needed to work things out before coming back.

Dr. Morris had spent several days with Tatum in the hospital, even slept on a cot one night in his room. Tatum hadn’t had nightmares and he didn’t have flashbacks of being shot, though his memory of what happened was clear as a mountain spring.

However, he’d had all these feelings as of late. Stuff that was hard to get a handle on. Like how much he enjoyed touching Neese’s hand and how he wanted to hold her close and fall asleep with her head on his chest.

The big guy by the door had a coughing fit. Neese whipped her head that direction. She seemed to come to herself and stared down at their hands for a moment. Her eyes narrowed. Tatum expected her to pull away. He tensed his shoulders, anticipating the rejection, but she didn’t put space between them. At least not physically. The closeness they’d shared in conversation, the easy back-and-forth, had waned.

She handed him the phone. “You are blessed.” Her words were simple and yet so profound. He was blessed.

“What about your family?” He tipped his water bottle her direction before taking a long swig. All the sugar they’d consumed made his mouth sticky.

“My family grows oranges. We export most of our crop.”

“I can’t picture you harvesting.”

Her hand went to her hip. “I harvest alongside my brothers, thank you.”

“You’re an only girl?”

“Yes.”

“And they make you work in the fields?”

“Do your sisters not?”

“They do and they don’t. They feed animals and such, but the men do most of the heavy lifting.”

She shook her head. “On our island, we work side to side. A man may bring in the harvest and make dinner for the family, just as a woman may tend children and slaughter a pig. We do not see men’s jobs and women’s jobs—there are only jobs to be done. In this pattern, all learn how to mend fishing nets, dive for conch … climb a coconut tree.” She tipped her head and smiled.

“Is that like climbing a trellis?” he teased, and she laughed. “And what does your family think of you working for the royal family? They must be very proud of you.”

She set down her fork. “Unfortunately, my affinity for American culture challenges my mother’s ideas and our island’s traditions. I am often seen as the weak link.”

“I can’t imagine that is true. You are much too commanding to be seen as weak.”

“Commanding? I do not command, I serve.”

He rolled her hand over and laced their fingers together. “You commanded my attention from the first moment we met.”

She fought a smile. “You mean when you handed me your coat to hang up?”

He grinned. “You had me so flustered. Didn’t you hear my voice crack?”

She giggled behind her napkin. “Perhaps a little.”

They’d sampled almost everything on the table, leaving a scary amount of food behind. However, he’d saved the best for last. “This is a turtle brownie.” He moved the small white plate to the center of the table.

“It doesn’t look like a turtle.” She bit her lip. “Please tell me there isn’t a tiny turtle inside of there.”

He kept a straight face. “They don’t use snapping turtles.”

She slapped his arm. “You are teasing me.”

“Maybe.” He shifted in his seat. “You don’t eat turtles?” He’d thought they were an island delicacy.

“They are protected.”

“Ah. Well, you won’t be arrested for eating this. A turtle candy is made by laying five pecans out like a star and putting a dollop of warm caramel on top and then—”

“Stop—you had me at warm caramel.” She smiled. “Is this face food?”

He laughed. “It most certainly is.”

She released his hand, using her delicate fingers to pick up the treat, and took a large bite, chewing thoughtfully. “This is good. This is the best sweet on the menu. I will have to take many back to the islands as gifts.”

“I’ll bet my mom has a recipe.”

“Does it include love?” Her eyes danced.

“Just a pinch.” He reached around and tickled her side.

She laughed and squirmed away.

They had stuffed themselves, one small bite at a time. Tatum asked for boxes and they packed the rest of the desserts up. “Put the ones you want to take to the hotel in that box, and I will take the rest.”

Neese was careful in her selections, making the most out of the space provided like a kid. She was childlike in many ways—in the best ways. Innocent of the harsh realities of the world and wide-eyed at the beauties within it. Perhaps that was what knocked on the secret doors in his heart. With her, there was no agenda, no scheming, no games; only the moment and the joy it could bring.

“What are your plans for the afternoon?” he asked.

“I would like to experience more of America. This may be my only visit to the country for some time.”

Tatum didn’t like the sound of that. At all. He stood and pulled out her chair. “I have a truly American experience for you.”

“Really?” Her voice rose with excitement.

“It’s as American as turtle brownies. Are you interested?”

“Yes!” She hesitated. “Let me just send a text.”

“Checking in with the princess?”

Neese’s head popped up. “No, I—”

“No worries, I’ll take care of this stuff while you text.” He gathered their empty water bottles and used napkins on a tray and took it to the trash can. She was hiding something from him, something about her work and who she was; her expression was as easy to read as the day’s headlines. He couldn’t figure out what she could have to hide besides her