Page 13 of Scarred Crown

So strange having Julia here. I glance at the zipped door, her rustling clear through the thick fabric. We’ve fallen back into an easy pattern of verbal parries and thrusts. I’ve barely exchanged more than a few polite phrases with her for years, and in twelve hours, we’ve regained our footing. The thought makes the ache in my chest pulse. She was… we were…

“Ready.” Julia pops out of the bathroom and zips it closed.

Her hair is back in a ponytail, and her makeup is minimal. The ever-present glasses are perched on her nose. Her curvy frame is clad in jeans and a T-shirt. By mid-morning, she’ll be too hot in the jeans. First thing this morning, she’ll be too cold in the T-shirt. A terrible outfit.

“Crepes. Amazing. Please tell me there’s tea,” she says settling in a chair.

“Right here.” I pour her a cup.

“Will this be okay?” She gestures to her clothes.

“Yep.” I nod and take a bite of my breakfast. Whoever cooks these is a God-damned miracle worker.

“Hmm. You’re wearing a sweater. Maybe I’ll grab one.” She stirs milk and sugar into her tea.

I might not tell her what she should wear, but I won’t steer her wrong when she makes a good deduction. Whether or not Julia and I have fallen into long ago patterns, she came here to drag me home, and I’m not ready to leave. So, my best bet is to get her to leave without me.

“Is there anything I should know about today?” When she sips her tea, her eyes close, and she groans.

My dick groans with her. Jesus. That expression mingled with that noise should be outlawed. “To get the true experience, let yourself be surprised as much as possible.”

Her eyes pop open and narrow. “That’s Nick-speak for ‘I’m going to find a way to enjoy your discomfort all day.’” She peers at me more closely, taking in my outfit. “I need to change. God, that stupid shower probably actually works, and you just aren’t telling me.” She tosses her napkin on her seat and storms toward her suitcase. “Wouldn’t it have been amazing if you’d actually grown up in the last fourteen years?”

“I’m a prince. I don’t need to grow up until I’m the king, and since that’s never happening…”

“Playboy for life. I suppose all those crown bunnies come in handy in that case.”

“Oh, they’re handsy.” I wink.

She shudders. “I don’t need to know where their hands have been.”

“Would you prefer I talk about their mouths or their—”

“Nick!” She snorts out a frustrated breath. “It’s quite possible I liked it better when you weren’t talking to me.” She snatches a pair of shorts out of a drawer and wrenches the zipper up to the bathroom.

“You can always go home!” I call to her through the fabric, polishing off my last bite of crepe and cutting off a section of hers, plopping it on my plate.

“Not going to happen, Prince Nicholas.” She throws open the flap and tosses her jeans in the general direction of her bag.

They flop on top and then slowly slip to the floor. I stare at them pointedly.

“I’ll pick them up later.” She waves off my annoyance.

“You’re staying in my room.”

“Our room now.” She gives me a sweet smile.

It’s fake. She doesn’t smile like that. Julia’s real smile causes her blue-gray eyes to spark with mischief, and a lightness overtakes her posture. No point in thinking about that.

“Do you need me to book you a flight home?” I ask.

“Depends. Is the ticket built for two?” She flutters her eyelashes and leans across the table in a flirtatious manner.

An annoying jolt of pleasure rushes through me at her coy demeanor. Jules doesn’t talk like that or act like that, and the idea of being turned on by her behavior seems oddly wrong.

“Doubtful. Not much in life that’s truly fun is only built for two.” I give her a wicked grin.

“That’s disgusting.” She picks up her fork, and her mouth drops open. “You ate some of my crepe?”