Royal Holiday - Jasmine Guillory Page 0,30
We fought all the time.” She laughed. “It’s funny when I think about it now, but oof, the years between when she was thirteen and sixteen I fantasized about running away from home a few times a week. But now we’re very close, and I’m really glad I came on this trip with her.”
He put his hand on her arm. He’d been wanting to touch her since they sat down.
“Well that’s good, because I’m glad you’re here in England with Maddie—and me—too.”
He slid his hand into hers, and she smiled at him. She brushed her thumb back and forth across the back of his hand, and he felt his whole body relax. He leaned in closer to her. He could smell her perfume now. He liked that he’d never smelled it before now, that only people who got this close to her could smell it.
“Malcolm, I—”
“Shepherd’s pie is just what you need on a day like today.” The waitress appeared and set a plate down in front of Vivian. Malcolm’s chicken pie with a side of mushy peas followed suit. They quickly released each other’s hands. Malcolm looked down at his food. What had Vivian been about to say?
“Do you need another pint, ma’am? Sir?”
They both shook their heads and picked up their forks.
“Well, I’m right here if you do. Just give me a wave.”
Vivian took a bite of her shepherd’s pie. She finally looked in his direction again, though she didn’t quite make eye contact.
“She’s right. This was just what I needed today.”
Was it just what she had needed right at that moment, though? That’s not what he had needed right at that moment.
Instead of saying that, he took a bite of his chicken pie.
“I’m glad you like it,” he said. “If you want to try my chicken pie—not chicken pot pie, mind you—you’re welcome to take a bite.”
She cast her eyes over his plate and then looked up at him with pursed lips.
“I do have to admit that doesn’t look like chicken pot pie, though I will say I’ve only ever had chicken pot pie once and didn’t enjoy the experience, so I’m not an expert. But if those are the famous mushy peas . . . they look exactly like peas that got cooked for way too long and then mashed up.”
He scooped some of the peas onto his fork and held them out to her.
“That is as may be, but you still have to try them. You can’t leave England without sampling mushy peas; I think they hold you back at customs if you don’t answer that question in the affirmative. Come on, taste them. I promise, they’re better than they look.”
She rolled her eyes at him but obediently opened her mouth. He smiled at her and slipped his fork inside her lips. Her lips closed over the peas, and she closed her eyes. He watched her face as she chewed, a smile dancing around her lips the whole time. After a few seconds, she opened her eyes and finally looked straight at him.
“That was disgusting,” she said.
“Absolutely foul,” he said. “But aren’t you glad you experienced it?”
She laughed, then he laughed, then they were both laughing so hard they had to put their forks down.
Vivian finally picked her fork up and took her second bite of shepherd’s pie.
“This, in contrast, is delicious, but now my stomach hurts so much from laughing I can barely eat,” she said.
And she was still flustered by that moment right before the food had come. He had definitely been just about to kiss her, right here in the restaurant at lunchtime. She’d experienced men leaning over to kiss her plenty of times, and she’d even been pleased about it most of those times, so why did this not-even-a-kiss-but-almost-a-kiss have such lasting effects on her?
Maybe because up until now, she’d pretended to herself that this flirtation was just that—something light and easy and relaxed—and that the attraction she felt building for Malcolm was something neither of them would ever act on.
And now it seemed like it was a matter of when, not if, they would.
He was still sitting just as close to her, though they weren’t quite touching anymore. She wanted to scoot her chair over just a tiny bit, so that her leg in her practical black pants was just against his leg, in his very nice gray wool pants. Instead, she kept eating her shepherd’s pie.
He reached over with his fork and raised an eyebrow at her. She didn’t