To Save a King, page 15
“You. Being sixteen with a hormone-infested sixteen-year-old boy.”
“Ooo, come on. That’s not fair. Gemma, you can trust me. I promise.”
Gemma peered into the hazel beauty of Imani’s eyes. “Can I?” Her parents thought they could trust her at sixteen.
“What do you think we’re going to do? Leave Penny and go make out in the loft?”
“Yes.” Gemma’s friend Susie used to get so mad at her for leaving with Dash to make out, leaving her alone with Dash’s geeky friends.
Imani turned Gemma toward the door. “Go, have fun. You deserve it.”
“Am I being a nag?”
“A little.”
Well then, she’d be off. Not going to lie, she looked for Justin’s truck parked behind a tree or off some side road as she headed for the drive-in—the trick she and Dash used back in the day—grateful to say she spotted nothing but a doe grazing by a stand of trees.
* * *
Gemma found Buck and JoJo by following the music and trail of fans stopping by to say hi and grab a small bag of popcorn. The crowd was extra large tonight, most of them snapping pictures of the prince.
When John spotted her, she waved and tried to act casual. Like, oh, you’re here? But when he offered his hand to hoist her into the truck bed, she felt self-conscious and wobbly.
His fragrance was clean and subtle and reminded her of the land after a cleansing rain.
“Seems we’re the popcorn providers tonight.” He handed her a small, red striped bag stuffed with popcorn. “The owner gave us these. People line up and we pass it over the side.”
“Popcorn from the king of country music and crown prince of Lauchtenland.” Gemma handed popcorn down to a dad and his two kids. “The movie will pale in comparison.”
“No one outshines Bogie,” John said, then added, “Jo didn’t say you were coming.”
“You sound disappointed.”
“Not in the least.”
The way he said, “Not in the least,” as his fingers touched hers, passing along two more bags of popcorn, which she lowered into outstretched hands, made her shiver. There’s no other way to say it. When she reached back for more popcorn, their eyes met and if this was a romcom, they’d be at the part of the almost-kiss.
But this wasn’t a romcom, was it?
“Sir, is everything all right?” This from Gunner who’d posted himself directly below John to keep the curious and the royal hunters at bay.
“Of course,” John said with a hitch in his voice. Then he smiled at Gemma in such a way she wanted to tap his arm and ask,”What? What do you want to say?”
“Hey, you two, stop with the oogly eyes, we’re getting backed up.” Haley stood by the popcorn machine with Cole, filling the kettle with kernels while Buck and JoJo loaded up the bags.
“What oogly eyes?” Gemma protested. “Please, just pass the popcorn up and we’ll hand it out.”
Meanwhile, Taylor and Jack worked the crowd and kept the line moving.
“Didn’t I tell you, Gemma?” JoJo said. “We’d be serving popcorn all night.”
“I’m shutting it down when the movie starts,” Buck said. “Let everyone know.”
Finally the lights flickered and the screen flashed with a ’40s-era newsreel, updating them on the war in Europe. Taylor, Jack, and Gunner shooed away the remaining crowd, and Buck and JoJo hopped into the truck bed—which was fitted with two custom leather benches embossed with Buck’s brand logo. The back bench was a touch higher than the front. Just like in a theater.
As the newsreel voice-over assured them of the Allies’ coming victory, everyone found a seat. Since they were all couples but John and Gemma and Gunner, they cuddled close. Jack with Taylor and Haley with Cole.
The back bench had Buck and JoJo in one corner and John in the middle. Gemma took the other corner. Gunner chose to watch the film sitting on the roof of his rental car—which was next to Buck’s truck. He collected four bags of popcorn and climbed aboard.
“Maybe I should sit with Gunner,” Gemma said, thinking he looked a bit lonely, his long legs resting against the windshield, his popcorn lined up beside him.
John leaned to see around her. “I’m sure Gunner would appreciate—”
“I’m fine. Need my space.”
Gemma laughed against her hand. “He heard us.”
“The man has the hearing of a bat.”
“Don’t forget it either, sir.”
“How are the lads and lasses?” John scooted a little closer to her. “Our pups? I almost stopped by after my meeting with Scottie.”
“You should’ve. Of course, you’d have ended up working. How was your time with Scottie?”
“Good, I think. We’re getting the hang of it, being siblings after thirty-plus years.”
“Will she go to meet your mother?”
“Undecided. But we shall see. So our little charges are faring well? I find myself thinking about them when I’m not on shift. Wondering how they’re getting on, laughing at some cute thing that happened while weighing or feeding. They’ve become friends, I suppose.”
The prince looked at her a moment longer than necessary, waiting for her answer, but she was bottled up with a warm, gushy feeling.
“Um, yes, they’re friends. Do…do you miss your friends?”
“A little,” he said. “But not because I’m here. I’ve not seen them much since Holland died. We gathered a few times, but it was awkward. They acted as if she’d not died, treating me like before I was married. They didn’t know if they should talk about her or not, or how to ask. Meanwhile, I was in a fog, not communicating clearly. My mate Lute finally said, ‘We fear if we bring her up, we’ll cause you pain. Yet if we don’t ask, do we come across as if we don’t care?’ I had no answer, so we stopped trying.”
“I wonder about Imani sometimes. Should I talk to her about her parents and grandparents?”
“Parents and grandparents?” He shook his head. “That’s a lot of death for one young woman.”
“Too much. She still has one grandmother. In Florida. We’ve started to touch on it lately. I hope she knows she can talk to me.”
“You should ask her, Gemma. Looking back, I should’ve talked about losing Holland sooner but I just—”
“Couldn’t. Believe me, I get it.”
“Is that the reason for your shadows? Did you lose someone close?”
Her shadows? So, he saw what she tried to hide. Same as Haley and JoJo.
“Sort of, yes.” If losing oneself counted.
“And sort of no?”
She glanced back at him, smiling. “And sort of no.”
“Should I inquire further?”
“No, the movie is starting.”
JoJo passed out more popcorn, the buttery kernels making Gemma’s belly rumble, and passed around cold, dripping bottles of water from the ice chest.
Up front on the movie screen, the black-and-white images of the Casablanca trailer played.
“I’m looking forward to this. I’ve never seen it,” John said.
“Makes two of us.”
“Room for one more?” Scottie O’Shay emerged from a row of cars, wearing shorts and a blouse, her voice tentative but strong. Sure, she was an O’Shay. And a Blue.
“You came.” John stood as Cole gave Scottie a hand up. “Lovely. You remember Gemma.” He motioned for Scottie to climb over the first seat—which collapsed—and take a seat next to Gemma.
“This is some setup. Buck, I’ll need to know who did the work. Dad would love this.” Scottie sat next to Gemma, exactly where John directed her, and despite all internal warnings, Gemma was disappointed. She’d wanted to sit next to him but really, this was for the best.
Later, when she climbed into bed, she’d have a good talk with herself about crushing on a royal prince. The heir. The too-good-for-you guy from Lauchtenland.
Then she’d fall asleep and dream of his rolling accent.
“I hope you don’t mind me squishing in,” Scottie said with such sincerity Gemma liked her all the more. “Have you seen Casablanca? I haven’t.”
“Believe it or not, no. Sad for a former actress, isn’t it?”
“Here we go.” John handed Scottie a bag of popcorn and bottle of water, then motioned for Gemma to move over.
Move over? Which way? Toward Scottie or the side of the truck? She decided on the side of the truck, and to her surprise-slash-delight, John plopped down next to her.
Heaven help her but she felt a bit weak. She leaned forward to focus on the movie and to escape John’s presence and fragrance.
“Gunner, you all right, mate?” John called.
“Fine, sir.” He wadded up his popcorn bag and moved onto the next. Two down, two to go.
Then, at last, Bogie and Bergman were on-screen.
The front-bench couples cuddled, facing the movie. On the back bench, Buck and JoJo cuddled up. Scottie reclined with her long legs stretched toward the front bench, and while the space was tight, there was a good six inches between Gemma and John. Definitely no cuddling here.
Then Haley spotted Marjorie Wentworth, who’d been a good friend in high school, and invited her to join them. She crowded in next to Haley and Cole.
Then out of nowhere, Haley’s brother Seth and his wife, Noelle, climbed aboard the tricked-out truck.
“Sorry we’re late,” he whispered, hunched over, trying not to block the screen. “The sitter couldn’t find her car keys.”
Holding Noelle’s hand, Seth made his way to the back. “Hey, Gemma.”
“Hey, y’all.” Now which way did she scoot? Toward or away from John? What if he scooted closer to Scottie. What if this bench didn’t hold seven people?
“Can we crowd in here?” Seth said, taking the popcorn bags Cole handed over.
“Absolutely.” John slid toward Gemma, tucking in so tight their elbows touched. Now her crazy, runaway pulse was so loud she couldn’t make out the dialog. Worse, she was absolutely crushing on the prince.
Shoot, she’d slept in the barn across from the prince for almost two weeks. This was no big deal. But oh, every time his arm touched hers, her entire body flamed. This. Was. A. Big. Deal.
But it shouldn’t be. Couldn’t be.
Cole stood up to fill his bag of popcorn from the machine.
“Down in front,” Scottie called, and Gemma snorted a laugh. She covered her mouth with her fingers. Nice. Very elegant. Snorting a laugh.
Well, eventually she forgot about her seatmate and lost herself in the film, in the adventure in North Africa as Rick and Ilsa fought for freedom. Fought for love.
Finishing her water and popcorn, she cleaned her hands with a wipe from the container JoJo passed around then sat back, heart still engaged with Sam on the screen as he played it again.
She startled when a hand touched hers. John. Slowly, gently, he slid his palm against hers and entwined their fingers, igniting a five-alarm fire in her. What was he doing?
John reclined against the back of the seat, his shoulder touching hers. Oh, help but he was killing her. One tingle at a time.
Don’t think. Don’t analyze. Just be for once.
So little by little, millimeter by millimeter, she leaned against him.
Everything was fine until Ilsa pressed into Rick and declared with a weepy voice, “If you knew how much I love you. How much I still love you.”
John sat up and yanked his hand from hers. Leaning forward on his arms, he watched the rest of the movie with a stiff, barriered posture and never once looked at Gemma again.
Chapter Fifteen
John
“You should get some sleep,” he said as he exited the puppy stall, his eye on Gemma, the memory of her hand in his haunting him.
He left the drive-in with her just before midnight—Gunner followed in his rental—and arrived at the barn for the midnight feeding.
Imani had prepped the bottles then texted Gemma.
Tina called. Needs me on the breakfast shift. Going to bed.
So Gunner volunteered to help. What a sight to see the squiggly, hungry puppies in the big man’s hands.
At the moment, he slept in his motor, though John assured him he could sleep in the barn or go back to the pool house.
“You’re my duty, sir. The motor’s plenty comfy.”
The cats meowed and rubbed against his ankles. They seemed to think the midnight feeding included them.
“What a long day.” Gemma hung up her apron which covered her dress from the evening. Her hair fell about her shoulders, a bit wild and frayed from the humidity and he fought the urge to reach for her, hold her, tell her how much he loved holding her hand. Then again, he pulled away. “But the movie was good.”
“Yes, very.” Ilsa’s confession to Rick echoed through him. The same one he’d made to Holland. “If you knew how much I love you…”
Wanting to hold Gemma made him feel untrue to Holland. Which was also unfair to Gemma. Even if he was completely ready to move on, he’d not assembled anything close to a whole, working heart.
All he had was a collection of broken pieces. A man still in love with his dead wife, chained by memories and what should’ve been.
The black-and-white feline with big ears and long tail curled around Gemma’s legs. She scooped her up, set her on the workbench, and grabbed a handful of treats.
“I really should stop buying these things, they’re too expensive.”
“Which reminds me, I put some money on your account at the feed store yesterday.”
She looked at him. “You didn’t have to do that.” She snapped the lid off the cat food container and filled the cats’ bowls.
“I want to help out.”
Gemma set the black-and-white, whom she called Tux, in front of the food. “What did you think of Rick ending up with the police chief instead of Ilsa? I suppose that’s as it should be.” She brushed past him, raising her hair from her neck, fanning away the heat. “She still loved Victor.”
John reached for her without pausing to think or analyze. “Holding your hand sent me to the moon, Gemma. I’m not going to lie. I was all zingy and twittery, distracted. Who cared about Rick and Ilsa, I was with you.”
“Zingy?” She grinned and zapped him with a current of romantic electricity. “Very poetic, Prince.” She stepped out of his arms. “It must not have been a pleasant ride to the moon. You let go. When Ilsa told Rick she still loved him.”
So she’d noticed. What did he expect? “I’m sorry. One moment I was with you, only you, thrilled to just be in the moment and not conflicted with life. Then Ilsa made that confession and I tumbled down a rabbit hole, back to misery, back to disappointment, back to all the memories. Holland and I had a similar confession. When we met, I felt like I’d come home to love. She was the one who would help me be king. You know, for all a man’s bravado, he needs a woman in his life.” He looked down and kicked his foot over the stone aisle. “So very much.”
“For all a woman’s bravado, I reckon she needs a man in hers. Wasn’t it that way from the beginning?”
“There are days when I barely think of her and then something like tonight happens and she consumes me. I’m sick with missing her.”
“Prince, you don’t owe me an explanation. You held my hand, big deal. You’ll go home in a couple of weeks and this will be a distant, if not forgotten, memory.”
“Never distant, never forgotten.” They leaned against the workbench, not moving, their glances passing. “Maybe it was just me,” he said into the quiet. “But holding your hand felt like more than a ‘no big deal.’”
“Not really.” A shadow passed over her expression as she left the workbench for the puppy stall, and his curiosity piqued about what exactly lived beneath her veil. What was she working so hard to conceal?
“I like you, Gemma. A lot,” he said, walking with her to the puppies. “In fact, had we met at another time—”
“If we’d met in another time, we’d not be having this conversation.” She knelt by the puppies and pressed her hand on their cuddled, sleeping bodies. “I feel so protective of them. I’m not sure I can give any away.”
“Surely you’ll let me have Chandler.” John dropped to his blankets and rested his arms on his raised knees.
“You want the runt of the litter?” Her smile was genuine and free from secrets. When she talked about her herd, the puppies, or Imani, she became determined and focused.
“I feel rather protective of him.” Of you.
“He won’t be ready when you leave.”
“You could bring him over.” He stretched out and scratched Chandler’s ears. The little chap squeaked and squirmed.
Tweedy roamed between the two of them, sniffing, inspecting, making sure her surrogates were safe. Blue used the opportunity to stretch his legs and head outside.
“You know, it occurs to me you know more about me than I do you,” he said after a moment.
“You’re famous. I’m a nobody.”
He raised his head. There was more than self-deprecation in her reply. “That’s a rather harsh view, Gemma. How does a nobody take in an orphan daughter and rescue animals?”
“I did what anyone would do.” Retrieving Phoebe and Monica, Gemma settled against the barn wall and cuddled the puppies in her lap. “Imani’s parents were good friends. We went to high school together. They were the all-American type. Smart, good-looking, athletic. She was black and he was white. They dated all through high school and got married the summer after we graduated.”
“There were no racial issues?”
“Some but not enough to stop those two. Plus both parents were successful, leaders in the community, and they helped to make it work. Althea and Ethan had scholarships to great colleges. Althea went to Howard, Ethan to George Washington, where he played basketball. Imani was a surprise honeymoon baby.”
“Had to be rough on young students and one playing a sport.”
“Their parents partnered to pay for a decent apartment and a nanny so they could get their work done. But really, if you knew Al and Eth, you’d know they’d have figured a way without help. They were driven and organized, knew what they wanted.”
