The Rebel King (All the King's Men Duet #2) - Kennedy Ryan Page 0,104

is staring a hole in my head. I lift my brows into the shape of what?

She tips her head toward the back of the bus.

Lennix has played it safe since the Glenn incident, barely looking at me the last few days.

“I need to ask Lennix something about this speech for Detroit,” I tell the team at the table with a quick smile. “Be right back.”

I set off down the long aisle. On the bright side, I get to be alone with my girl for the first time in days, even if it’s in the back of a crowded bus. She’s in the very last row, knees up against the seat in front of her.

“This seat taken?” I ask, nodding to the empty space beside her.

“Yeah.” She scoots into the spot. “It is.”

I move her slight weight over so I can sit.

“Could you not touch me in public?” she whispers. “We had a close call. We’re lucky Glenn hasn’t blabbered to the press.”

“Is blabber a word adults actually use?”

Her mouth twitches, but she schools it into a straight line. I lean forward to catch her eyes with mine, glad the high back of the seat obscures us, provides a small measure of privacy.

“Look, I know you saw those photos of Salina and me at the twins’ party. We just happened to be standing together, and seated together. We were the only single people there. Everyone else had a kid and a spouse.”

“Whatever.” She shrugs, but looks up to search my face. “You didn’t mention the plane ride.”

“It wasn’t worth mentioning, and I didn’t know about it until she got on the plane. My father—”

“Never mind. Enough said. I know he doesn’t think I’m good enough for you, so I guess he has aggressively taken matters into his own hands to find a viable alternative.”

“I told him to stop, and that it’s useless. There’s no one else but you. He knows that. You should know that. Are you jealous?”

“Yes.” She glares at me. “And you like it.”

I chuckle because I kind of do. “I can laugh because it’s ridiculous to even think I’d want someone else.”

I lean my head out into the aisle to make sure no one can see us, and interlock our fingers. Holding her hand is a privilege I’ll never take for granted again.

She relents her first smile since Polly’s little bomb. “It’s probably a good red herring. Diverts attention away from us.”

“You know the press will keep speculating and digging because America doesn’t just elect a president,” I say. “People have to feel good about the spouse, too. They want to know who that will be. We could end it,” I whisper, bending until our heads touch, and taking her hand, kissing her wrist. “If we just tell them I already have my first lady. An affair sounds bad, but an engagement sounds romantic. Getting married could solve all our problems.”

A deep swallow disturbs the elegant line of her throat. Her shoulder tenses against mine. “Wow,” she says with a stiff smile. “Did I miss the proposal?”

I lift her chin, locking our eyes and holding my breath. “Will you marry me, Lennix?”

Her eyes widen and she snatches her hand away like I burned her. My palm feels cold as soon as she does it. She traps her bottom lip between her teeth and looks away, twisting her fingers into a knot in her lap. The silence following my question—the first time I’ve ever asked that question—is deafening. Slowly, the chatter and laughter of the team up front filters into my senses. Ironically, it’s as the interstate flashes by through the bus window, the traffic and landscape blurring, that it becomes painfully clear.

“Are you . . . turning me down?” I force myself to ask. “Is this a no?”

She squeezes her eyes shut and presses her lips tightly together, looking like she wants to be anywhere but here with me right now. It’s an ice pick slicing between my ribs. How did I miss that Lennix does not actually want to marry me?

“I love you,” she finally says, her voice cracking. “But—”

“But you don’t want to marry me?” I ask, forgetting to whisper.

“Shhhh.” She stretches her eyes and tips her head toward the front of the bus. “I didn’t say that. You know I want to marry you.”

“Then what the hell? Why is this awkward? Why haven’t you said yes? I asked you the most important question I’ve ever asked anyone in my life and I get this.”

“Let me

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