Royal Bastard (Instantly Royal 1)

“Stop fibbing.” Daisy slammed her book closed and leaned closer. “Tell me everything.”

A very sanitized confession was on Brooke’s lips, but movement on her sister’s other side caught her eye.

“Everything about what?” Riley asked, managing to make his large, muscular frame fit in the sliver of space between the wall and Daisy.

“She—”

“Daisy!” Brooke called out, her face hot enough to burst into flame.

“Spoilsport.” Daisy winked at her—the same teasing one their father always gave them—and turned to the guy so obviously into her that it hurt to look at him sometimes.

Not that Daisy ever noticed. Usually, her sister never missed a thing—before or after her hearing loss—but when it came to Riley McCann, she was daft as a brush. She watched the pair of them talk for a few minutes while Dad pulled the taps for another round. Once the pints were delivered, Riley left an ale in front of Daisy and took the rest back to his table where his mates were waiting, deep in discussion about an upcoming match.

After watching Riley sit down, Daisy turned her attention back to Brooke and gave her a knowing shake of the head. “He’s one of my best friends, but I wouldn’t have told him about you shagging the American.”

Skipping over the what that she wouldn’t have told Riley, Brooke went straight for the part that would distract her sister in her attempts to get more details about last night. “Riley wants to be more than just friends.”

Her sister rolled her eyes. “Now who’s being ridiculous?”

“Have you not seen the way he looks at you?” She knew the answer, of course, because Daisy hadn’t noticed. Ever.

“I’m deaf, not blind; I know he feels sorry for me,” Daisy said with a practiced nonchalance that almost broke Brooke’s heart in two because she’d always assumed her sister hadn’t noticed, not that she’d totally misinterpreted. “I hate it, but I can’t change it so…” The words trailed off as Daisy stared into the amber liquid in her glass.

And, for once, Brooke didn’t have a single word to utter about the situation, because for a woman who thought she had the answer to everything, she had no clue what to do about this development.

Just as she was contemplating whilst sipping her ale, the pub door opened and the man she’d been failing to not think about all day swaggered in like a modern-day John Wayne, minus the spurs. She stood a little straighter, lifted her chin, and ignored him. Well, as much as she could, since Daisy was kind enough to offer a step-by-step whispered description of his path through the pub. By the time he stopped next to her and rested one of his corded forearms on the gleaming bar, her heart was ready to break free from her chest.

“Evening, ladies,” he said in that sexy American accent of his. “What are we discussing?”

Daisy opened her mouth, a glint in her eye that spelled trouble and sent a lightning bolt of panic straight through Brooke.

“Riley McCann,” Brooke said, getting the words out before her sister could contradict her. “Daisy thinks he feels sorry for her.”

Nick snorted and looked directly at Daisy in the mirror behind the bar. “More like Riley McCann’s sorry he’s not in Daisy’s pants.”

“Nick!” Brooke said, cringing as she realized her mistake at once. One should not be calling the earl’s heir by his first name. As subtly as possible, she glanced around to make sure no one had overheard his declaration.

No such luck. Bruce Anderson was frozen with his pint halfway to his mouth, one eyebrow cocked high and a snarky little grin on his face—and he used a hearing aid. That meant most of the others probably caught it as well, but not Riley, who was in the back corner of the pub with his mates. How long would it take for Nick’s declaration to get to him, and how twisted would it be by the time it did? Considering the way the village gossiped, the answer to that query was quickly and a lot.

Nick leaned in close, his lips almost touching the curve of her ear. “I do love the way you say my name, especially when…”

Whatever else he would have said died on his frankly very kissable lips as her dad crossed over to their end of the bar and took Nick’s cider order. He filled it

while giving a quizzical look to her and Daisy before heading back over to Daniel to talk pigeon coops and race timers. The three of them sipped their drinks in silence until Daisy scooted as close as possible to Brooke, in the process pushing Brooke so that she was pressed up against Nick’s warm body.

After giving the patrons a quick look in the mirror, Daisy gave her full attention to Nick and dropped her voice to as much of a whisper as possible, “Do you really think so? About Riley, I mean.”

“As someone with lifetime experience of being a guy and judging by the way he tried to break my fingers when we shook hands the other day?” Nick set down his cider and pivoted his body so he faced Daisy directly, the move making it so Brooke’s side fit perfectly against him, one hand dropped to her hip and her breath caught. “Oh yeah.”

The urge to melt back against him had her on the verge, but she caught herself in time. If every eye in the pub wasn’t on them at the moment, she’d have inched Daisy over enough to put some breathing room between her body and Nick’s. His lips did a quick curl upward—as if he knew exactly what she was doing—but he let his fingers fall from her hip, the move as casual and smooth as if he’d never been touching her. If only it felt that way. Instead, the one spot on her hip became the one spot on her body that she felt the most.

“No way,” Daisy said, staring into her beer. “He totally would have made a move.”

“Like buying you a beer?” Nick asked.

“Oh, that’s just tradition,” Daisy countered. “We buy rounds here; no one gets just one beer for themselves.”

Her sister moved in closer again, but this time, Brooke took the chicken’s way out and stepped back from the bar instead of letting herself end up snuggled up close to Nick again. Nick. She needed to stop thinking of him that way. Mr. Vane, who was off-limits because her job was too important. The earl’s posh heir wasn’t for a publican’s daughter like her. The man who made her see neon stars last night—twice. Bloody hell. She all but stomped over to Daisy’s other side, needing a buffer between her and the man who encouraged the lustful little demon on her shoulder—okay, between her legs.