Page 71 of The Romance Adventure

I open and close my mouth because it was a command rather than a request, suggesting he doesn’t think we’re on equal footing. I have no problem reminding Royal that we’re peers, but this man is on another level—not that he’s better than me with his Rolex and pinky ring. But I don’t think the word humility is in his vocabulary.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“And I’ll take a coffee. Don’t be stingy with the cream and sugar.”

While I fix his drink, he peruses a nearby shelf, and then as if thinking out loud he says, “If I were shiny and valuable where would I be?”

I pass him the coffee. “Here you go. Are you sure I can’t help you find something?”

“You’re the girl from the news report helping revitalize the Driftwood, right?”

I reply with a hesitant nod.

Wearing a strange smile, he says, “You may already have.”

As the screen door closes, sending a little breeze my way, I shiver.

But not five minutes pass before a tall and handsome hunk strides through the door with a boyish grin on his face.

“You look like a cat that just ate a canary.”

“Again, weird saying.”

“I was raised by a woman named Olga and hang out with Bean who spends a lot of time with Mr. Edmonton. Could’ve rubbed off on me.” My jaw drops and I grip Royal’s arm as a surge of knowing rushes through me.

“Hold the phone. Olga and Oliver Edmonton were—” I clap my hand over my mouth. “The beach house, er, this building.” I jog in place and shake my arms. “That’s why Bean must think of him as a grandfather...no, a great uncle.”

Royal stares at me like I’ve lost my coconuts. Nutmeg glares like I’m embarrassing her.

“But why didn’t she tell me?” I spin in a circle as if my sister will appear. Then like a sleuth, I pace as if I’m about to break down the case and piece together how I figured out that my great aunt and the town lawyer were lovers. Okay, that’s a tad dramatic because the only thing warm about Aunt Olga was her borsch, but still. Companions.

Royal gazes at the mural and then grips my upper arms. “You’re making me seasick.”

“But I just solved a mystery I didn’t even know existed. Just call me Sherlock Pratt.”

His pewter eyes blink slowly as if taking me in.

“You’re looking at me like you’re trying to decide whether you want to be along for the ride. Of course, you do!” I sling my arms around his neck and then like I’m launching myself over a track hurdle, I leap into Royal’s arms.

He readily cradles me there. “As long as you keep still for a minute, sure.”

“Do you actually get seasick?”

Royal tips his head to the side as if reluctant to admit it.

“But you grew up here, right? We’re surrounded by the ocean practically on all sides.”

“And my brothers and Chip never let me forget it.” The way he says the words makes me think that it wasn’t a small thing and whatever they said made him feel excluded, like he didn’t quite measure up to their seafaring expectations.

“Well, we can stay on dry land.”

“I can handle rafts, kayaks, paddle boards, and big boats like yachts—most of the time. But medium craft with the churn and the chop—” Royal turns a faint shade of green as if the mere thought makes him ill.

He sets me down and my heart hiccups like it doesn’t like the space now between us.

“I got you something.” Royal opens his palm to reveal a disk drive, like the kind that stores data, music, or photographs.

I turn it over in my hands like a treasure because, let’s face it, Royal doesn’t seem like the type to give things away.