Prince Charmings (BOOK ONE)

22

"I mean, honestly, Bella did such a great job," Gillian smiled, hanging off a stiff Spencer. Her brown eyes settled on me, waiting for my input as her dark hand stroked the crook of Spencer's leaden forearm, but all I could think about was soft.

The way his hair fell across his forehead after he rinsed out all the product.

His arms, tucked inside the giant parka his Mom brought him because the weather report called for rain.

Lips that he kept gnawing on that I just wanted to reach over and tug free.

With my hands or my own mouth, I wasn't sure.

All I knew was kissing Spencer was potentially the worst thing I had ever done, and now I was paying the consequences. I barely reacted when Bella sauntered my way, red hair bouncing in waves behind her. Draping a lazy hand on my shoulder, she squeezed tightly before flashing Gillian and Spencer a blinding grin.

"Mazel tov, children," she said, pleased, leaning into me as she crudely raised a can of soda as a toast. "Opening night was a success, although the lack of tongue did not go unnoticed by our most astute audience. I'm sure you boys will take those notes to heart for next time."

"We're even now, Bella. No more lording the past over me," Spencer snapped, glaring at the floor as though it had personally offended him while a ring of red grew around his neck. The muscles there twitched angrily as he clenched his jaw when all Bella did was laugh back.

"I own your soul for another two weeks Spency Boy," she sung, wagging a finger his way when he made to protest. "Unless you want to make tonight a session of airing our dirty laundry, I'd shut your mouth and let me steal your wonderful girlfriend for a moment. Beauregard, you were dashing as always. No notes for you."

"I'll meet you by your car after okay," Gillian promised Spencer, running a loving hand down his cheek before walking off, Bella on her heels. Silence fell between Spencer and I, suffocating in the growing chatters around us. I panned my eyes across the room, noticing that we were, in fact, the only people not talking. Hell, we were the only people avoiding direct eye contact.

"So–"

"I should go," Spencer said, cutting me off entirely. I did a double-take at the way his face both paled and grew stark red, the guy fidgeting with the zip of his jacket as he shifted his weight from foot to foot.

I sighed, running a hand through my hair as Spencer shook his head.

"It's cool. It's all fine, honestly. Don't even worry about it. I'm not worried about it, at all," He shook his head, taking a step back only to collide with the figure behind him. "Sorry."

"Nice to see your manners have remained intact all these years later," the person responded and I felt my heart drop at the sound, eyes flashing upwards.

Shit.

"Mom," Spencer said, tone embarrassed as his mother saddled up beside him. It was strange seeing Officer Fox out of uniform, dressed down in a pair of jeans and a thick sweater that made her hair seem even more vibrant. Unlike her son, she wore a large smirk, though her eyes hardened when they fell on me.

"Mr. Minders," she addressed me, head tilting back in recognition.

"You can call him Beau, Mom. You're off the clock," Spencer groaned, running a hand down his face as his mother very obviously scanned my entire format though searching for contraband. I wasn't sure what she made of me, dressed in a hoodie and tights and wanting nothing more than to die on the spot.

"Never truly off the clock," Officer Fox reminded her son, going so far as to pull her badge from the back of her jeans and flash it my way. The whole point of the move was to intimidate me, and it was working. Before I knew it sweat was pouring out my armpits, staining the inside of my hoodie in a way that made me refuse to move my arms even a fraction.