Serving Side by Side (Rocky Royal Romance Book 3), page 13
The cat scrambled to avoid her and darted across the room, causing Saint’s date to scream. Honestly.
The door swung open, and their weekend security counterparts stood there looking on full alert, weapons drawn.
“Shut the door!” Sam and Tezza both yelled, and the men quickly complied.
“Your Majesties,” Simonson directed, “get over by the door with Blake and Peterson. Everyone else, spread out and find the damn thing.”
“All this fuss over a cat?” Abbie asked as Edward ushered her toward the door.
“It’s not just a cat,” Sam muttered as he circled the pool table.
“We’ve been seeing it in the hallways at night. It’s some sort of magical apparition, and we’ve got to find out who’s casting it. We defended the offices and the residence,” Tezza said, distracted.
“But we apparently forgot about this room,” said Sam.
“I didn’t forget,” Tezza snapped as she got on her hands and knees to look under the couch. “I was being strategic. It’s not free, you know.” A paw swiped her across the nose, and she cursed, holding her face. “Real claws, FYI.”
“I’ll flush it from the other side and you catch it,” Sam said, grabbing a pool cue from the hanging rack on the wall.
She grimaced. “Fine, but I’m defending myself. That thing’s not tearing me to shreds.”
Sam slid the cue under the leather couch and he heard the animal hiss. He scooted the stick a little farther, and the cat darted out—into Tezza’s waiting arms. She held it up triumphantly by the scruff of its neck as it swiped and hissed at her. The pounding on the game room door startled them so much, she almost dropped it.
Prince Simon stood in the doorway, his eyebrows drawn hard together, his mouth pulled down into an infuriated frown, his hands on his hips, his slightly bewildered security looming over him, panting.
“Give me my cat,” he demanded, his chest heaving.
“Your cat?” Edward replied, staring at his youngest brother, perplexed, and Tezza smiled.
“Of course, Your Highness. Of course,” she said, walking over to Simon and placing the frazzled creature in his arms. He stroked its head protectively, checking it for damage, then glowered at Macias. Sam felt something intangible in the room shift, and Tezza speared Simon with a disbelieving glare.
“No. You’d regret that,” she said, her voice low. “Mind your manners, Your Highness.”
Simon’s eyes flashed with surprise before his head dropped.
“What in the world is going on?” Abbie asked, elbowing her way out of the protective circle her temporary security had created.
“Was he threatening you just now?” Edward’s arms were crossed, his face hard. Tezza nodded once, and Simon suddenly shrank under the angry gaze of four adults who loved him.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “Mum can’t have a real cat around . . .”
“Stand down, backup security,” Peterson said into the radio. “Repeat, stand down. Threat neutralized.”
Tezza turned to Abbie. “Grand Duchess, your brother-in-law has been playing with forces he doesn’t understand. I suggest he start lessons with me this week until we can find him a better tutor.”
His eyes shifted from upset to interested in a flash. “Will you teach me to make more animals?”
“A whole menagerie, Your Highness, but first, we’ll work on boundaries . . .”
Remembering himself, Sam strode over to the wall and put away the cue as he grabbed the first aid kit. He caught Tezza by the elbow and led her over to the couch.
“Easy, petunia.”
“I’m going to put Simon and his magical cat apparition back to bed,” Edward said.
“I’ll help,” Abbie put in, ushering Simon out of the room, leaving Sam and Tezza with Saint and his date.
Sam sat on Tezza sideways and got out the antibiotic gel.
“Is this really necessary?” she griped.
“You’re the worst patient in Orangiers.”
“I am not,” she shot back, turning her head away, defending herself lamely, swatting at his hands.
“Fine. Worst in the world, then,” he said, chasing her with his slathered finger, trying not to let the goopy feeling of the gel bother him. “You’re too tough for your own good.” He caught her chin with his other hand and gingerly applied the medicine to the scratches the cat had left on her nose. “They’re not deep, but this face is too pretty to scar. Your face is my favorite.” He kissed her gently, then cleaned his fingers with a wipe. Sam felt Saint watching them, and he glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. Arms crossed, gaze level, eyebrows neutral, mouth quirking. Assessing, but guarded . . . perhaps mildly amused? It’s hard to tell with him. He looked really upset earlier . . .
“So I’m going to take off,” the woman whose name Sam couldn’t remember muttered, giving Saint a peck on the cheek as she slung her purse over her shoulder.
“I’ll call you,” he said, not turning his attention from Sam and Tezza. As soon as she was out of the room, he pointed an accusatory finger at Sam.
“You’re not eloping. Not tonight, not ever.”
Sam cocked his head. “Why not? We’re in love. Weddings are expensive and a pain to plan. What’s the problem?”
Saint ran a hand through his hair, ruining his carefully gelled style. “What’s the problem? Sam, you barely know each other. And she’s literally just gotten out of a marriage. Yes, he’d been gone a long time, but it looks bad. It looks like you were just biding your time. And your families won’t be there. And—and . . .” He trailed off as Edward and Abbie came back into the room, looking grave. “Help me out here, guys.”
Edward shook his head. “You were doing fine. Keep going.”
Saint huffed a sigh. “I know you’re both hard-core and efficient, but you’re going to be sorry you didn’t have pictures and the dress and everything. You can’t rush this.”
Sam turned to Tezza. “He makes some sense.”
“He does,” she agreed. “I would like you to meet my family in person. Let’s start with scheduling that trip if we can corral all my brothers.” Sam let his face show how less than thrilled he felt, and she laughed. “I won’t let them pound you, sugarlump.”
“Sugarlump,” Abbie whispered, grinning from ear to ear. “She called him ‘sugarlump.’ That’s so wonderful. This is so wonderful!”
“So now that we’re not eloping, we’re back to wonderful?” Sam asked. His friends nodded, and he answered with his own nod. I will never figure these people out.
“Fine. But I’m not waiting more than three months,” he said, “and you cannot wear black during the ceremony.”
“Bad news.”
He pulled away to see her face. “Oh?”
“Traditional Op’Ho’Lonian wedding dresses are always black, to symbolize how only death will part us.”
Sam let out a deep sigh, shaking his head, and she laughed.
“I’ll consider another color,” Tezza replied. “Now get off, you’re heavy.”
He crossed his arms. Her nostrils flared. He followed her gaze to his biceps and snickered inwardly. This woman is totally into me. That should scare me more than it does.
“Make me.”
“I could.” She pushed at his chest halfheartedly.
“I know you can. So do it.”
“I hate freeform,” she growled, “and I hate having an audience.”
Abbie snickered, then stopped when Tezza shot her a look.
“And I hate hand-to-hand. Do it.”
Tezza glared at him, then closed her eyes, concentrating. He felt invisible hands grab him under the arms and lift him a few inches, then plop him on the couch next to her.
“You did it!” he cried, elated, taking her shoulders in his hands. “You couldn’t do that when we met. I told you I’d help. You questioned my ability to assist in redeveloping your skills, but I found a method—several, actually—and you were wrong to doubt me. Say it. Say it out loud right now. Say you were wrong to doubt me, T. Fine, don’t say it, I know it’s true. And if we keep working at it, you’ll continue to improve. You’re already an invaluable asset to Edward and Abbie, but you can always get better.”
Tezza was looking over his shoulder, and she almost looked . . . embarrassed? Am I embarrassing her? He twisted to see what she was looking at. Abbie had her head on Edward’s chest and her arms around his waist. Edward had an arm around her shoulders, and Saint had one hand in his mussed hair again. They were all beaming at him.
“What are they doing?”
“Being happy for you, sugarlump.”
“For us, you mean.” He paused, and then she beamed, too. “This was stressful. I’d like to take you home now.”
“That’s the most I’ve ever heard him talk,” Abbie whispered as he stood up, and he shook his head, laughing.
“I enjoy talking to Tezza.”
“Mate, it was more like talking at her than talking to her,” Saint drawled.
Oh, really, Francis? “Who’s taking a woman home tonight?” Sam asked, not looking at Saint, holding out a hand to help Tezza off the deep couch cushions.
“Pardon?” Saint asked.
“Where’s your date?” Sam asked. Tezza took his hand, smirking, and stood up.
“She left,” he muttered.
Sam turned and looked him in the eye to better make his point. “Right. And mine’s still right here, so I’ll let you draw your own conclusions about who’s better with women here.”
He helped Tezza into her coat and they left hand in hand while his friends’ mouths were still hanging open in shock, letting their laughter follow him down the hall.
Epilogue
TEZZA LAY IN THE PITCH black of her bedroom. She’d pushed the heavy quilt off her husband’s body and replaced it with her own weight. Under her head, Sam’s chest rose and fell evenly, but she knew he was awake. He always woke before she did, even when he didn’t have to go into the office at Travis and Simonson Weaponry. His arms came around her and squeezed her closer, and she rolled more on top of him.
“Hi.”
“Hi,” he replied, his eyes still closed. He rubbed her arm a little.
“Happy anniversary.”
He smiled and opened one eye. “Happy anniversary.”
“Did you forget?”
He scowled good-naturedly. “No.”
“Did you get me a present?”
“Of course. I wouldn’t repeat last year’s disaster. I’m not stupid.”
“A poem is nice, but a poem is not a present.”
“Yes, so you said, and loudly.”
“You’re learning, though.” She kissed his chest, and he jumped. “Give me a hint?”
He shook his head, staring up at her. She let her hands wander up and down his torso in firm, long strokes over his T-shirt and he grunted.
“Sam,” she murmured, “I have a question for you.”
“I’m listening, love.”
“We’ve been married three years . . .”
“Yes.”
“Do you think you’ll ever get tired of . . .”
He placed his hands over hers to still them. “Of what?”
She slid up his body to whisper in his ear. “Do you think you’ll ever get tired of . . . stealing my covers? I’m cold.”
In a flash, she was on her back with her wrists pinned to the bed and her grinning husband hovering over her.
“Never, love. It’s my secret weapon. I get more snuggling that way.” He kissed her neck, nuzzling behind her ear. “Do you think you’ll ever get tired of messing with me?”
“Never, sugarlump,” she breathed, as she tried to wriggle her hands free of his grip. “I will mess with you forever.”
“Well, that’s settled, then,” he said, lowering his body to hers. “You know, sometimes, on a special date . . .”
“Like an anniversary?” she asked, smiling against his scratchy cheek.
“Yes,” he murmured, kissing along her jaw. “On a special date, like an anniversary, couples like to do a certain special activity together . . . It’s early yet, but I was thinking we could—”
“Mami?” A small voice came through the closed door, and Sam’s forehead fell to her shoulder, his warm breath heavy on her neck.
“Don’t answer yet,” he whispered. “Maybe she’ll go back to bed . . .”
A hesitant knock. “Mami? I kind of had an accident last night. I need new sheets.”
With a sigh, Sam released Tezza’s arms and flopped onto his back. “Come in, love,” he called. The girl opened the door and peered into the darkness.
“And I’m hungry. Are we having breakfast soon?”
“You’re only hungry because you didn’t eat your supper last night, monkey,” Sam chided gently. “You used to like macaroni and cheese! Why won’t you eat it when Dad makes it?”
“You didn’t put hot dogs in it,” Tezza said as she pulled on her robe. “That’s how her foster mama did it. We told you that.”
He threw his hands in the air. “Hot dogs are disgusting, the texture is repulsive!”
“Disgusting to you is delicious to her . . .”
“You’d think in six years on this earth she’d have learned to have better taste,” he grumbled.
“You tell her, Dad.” Tezza went to the door to greet their daughter. “Good morning, Raquel.” She pressed the girl’s head against her belly in a hug and smoothed her long dark hair.
“Good morning, Mami. I want waffles with Yaya’s sauce on them.”
“Oh, me too,” Sam piped up behind her, and she smiled. “And T?”
“Mmm?”
“I still want to do that special activity we were discussing, later . . .”
She glanced at him over her shoulder, giving him a wink their daughter wouldn’t see. “I don’t see how it’s special if we did it yesterday . . .” She sighed as if pained. “But if you insist.”
“I do, T.” He grinned. “I do.”
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Ready for Saint’s story?
A SINGLE MOM ITCHING to expose a royal scandal. A captain determined to protect his friend’s reputation. A natural enmity that doesn’t account for the long, lingering looks...
Brooke Everleigh’s first big story is everything she’d imagined it would be, holding accountable the man who’d cursed her source with a magic kiss –none other than King Edward. She wants his head on a platter, but she’ll settle for an admission of guilt and justice for his victim.
Captain Saint had hoped for more time to get used to his new job as chief communications officer before getting embroiled in a scandal. Clearing his best friend’s name isn’t going to be easy, especially when telling the truth might mean worse trouble. Plus, the pretty blonde who’s pressing things is getting under his skin–too bad she shut him down the moment they met.
When Brooke’s son lands in hot water at school, the school assigns the only available mentor: Captain Saint. With her son’s future at stake, Brooke is forced to cooperate with a man she doesn’t trust, regardless of how good-looking and good with kids might be. When the king makes it clear there’s no future for his chief communication officer and the reporter who’s trying to destroy his reputation, she’ll have to choose between her work and the captain who’s worked his way into her heart...
Bringing Down the King is the fourth book in the Rocky Royal Romances, a complete six-book series. If you like a sweet, enemies-to-lovers holiday romance with a twist of fantasy and a dash of suspense, one-click this romance now. This book has a guaranteed HEA; it contains mild cursing and frank discussion of adult situations, including the Me Too movement, but no open-door sex scenes. It was previously published under the title The Jinxed Journalist.
More from Fiona West
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Breaking Up the Royals (Abbie and Edward)
Serving Side by Side (Tezza and Sam)
Bringing Down the King (Saint and Brooke)
Winning Back the Duke (Rhodie and James)
Working Under the Warlord (The Warlord-in-Chief of Gratha and Frieda)
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