Page 34 of Fallen Crown

“The whole family was pretty wary of her marrying him. He’s been over in the US for a while now, I think. You’ve probably heard all about it. Some sort of business opportunity.”

“The guy makes YouTube videos,” I say with a scoff. “What sort of business opportunity would take him away from his injured wife for months?”

My tone gets Nick’s attention, and something like delight enters his hazel eyes. “Have you got a crush on a married woman?”

A crush. Makes me sound like I’m back in elementary school. “Tucker and I are buddies. I have a lot of respect for her racing skills.”

“Buddies.” Nick laughs. “Tell me what any of your other friends’ partners are up to other than Posey and Brent. I’ll wait. Go ahead.” He makes a “go on” motion with his hand.

“Training has eaten up a lot of my time lately.”

“You can go feed your bullshit to someone else. What’s her cup size?”

34B, if I had to guess. I run my palms along my cheeks and sigh. Fine, so I’ve noticed. I’d never deny she’s an attractive woman. Attractive might be too mild of a word.

“On a more serious note,” Nick says, “I know your philosophy has always been that you aren’t responsible for someone else’s marriage, but if something happens between you and Maren Tucker, Bellerive will never forget. That’s a scandal with a capital S. Is that really something you want to invite in here given everything else we’re dealing with?”

“We’re buddies,” I say through gritted teeth. It’s not like I’m so hard up for female company that I have to have Tucker. Self-control is a thing, and while I’ve never been big on exercising it, I’m sure I can. Besides, her shitty attitude toward me was the direct result of a misunderstanding around cheating. Even if I was tempted, she wouldn’t be. She’s not the type.

“Just wanted to make sure there wouldn’t be any buyer’s regret,” Nick says as he pours himself a cup of coffee and takes a sip. “You know, like that tattoo on your back.”

“It’s grown on me,” I mutter. Drunk me thought the Chinese characters were a good idea, but I’ve since had them mostly covered over. Someone has to look closely to find them.

“More like grown with you,” Nick says with a laugh before heading for the door. “Some mistakes are more permanent than others.”

Once he’s out the door, I stand with my back pressed into the counter, and I’m aware of Joyce’s presence on the other side of the kitchen, assessing inventory before the rest of the staff arrive. My chat with Nick has cut into my preparation time, but I was almost ready anyway.

“What do you think, Joyce?” I’m not sure why I’m asking, because Nick has it wrong. Nothing is happening between me and Tucker, and there won’t be. He’s not reading the situation right, but it’s hard to explain what we are to each other. A comfort, maybe.

“You always say you should take your happiness where you can find it,” she says. “You’ve seemed happy since you started training for this. Not a false happy. A real happy. If it’s the racing, that’s wonderful. Truly wonderful that you’ve found something separate from this place. You’re going to need it, I think. But if she’s the cause of your joy, be careful. Joyous and careful. A broken heart at a time like this or a scandal…” She makes a tutting noise.

“Neither of those are going to happen,” I say. “The training is what I enjoy. Her company is merely a bonus.” Even saying that seems strange. Funny how quickly a perspective can shift. Maren Tucker’s company is a bonus. I let out a little laugh. Unbelievable but true.

“Good luck on your adventure. I hear King Alexander has allowed you to go without a bodyguard? Better be careful.”

Alex did agree. Unorthodox, and I suspect Rory had a hand in convincing him I’d be safe with Maren after we had a chat in the corridor one day about how much I needed to unplug from everything going on with Dad. I had a feeling she’d go to bat for me, even if I didn’t explicitly ask her to. She’s good like that.

“I’m always careful,” I say with a grin before I pick up my backpack and head for the door.

We’re picking our way through Bellerive’s northern national park, which is also a temperate rainforest, for the first leg of our three-day adventure. Rather than taking the well-worn paths, Tucker got permission a few years ago from the National Parks Commission to take alternate, harder routes mapped out for the race team. Only problem is the ground is fucking slippery with moss since they haven’t gone this way for almost a year.

I lose my footing again, and I curse as I almost go down. “Don’t say it,” I grumble before Tucker can come out with her typical sing-song “Balance, Your Highness,” as though she thinks she’s funny. Now that we train so much together, sometimes it is funny, but now is not one of those times.

She glances over her shoulder and grins. Catching her amusement dismantles the annoyance that’s been building in me with each slick step. At least she’s enjoying herself, and warmth spreads across my chest. I suck in a deep, appreciative breath.

“I love the air out here,” Tucker says as she navigates her way through the underbrush.

“Damp and fresh,” I agree.

“You ever come out here?”

I consider her question for a beat. Of course we’ve been to this national park, but the last time I remember being here was for a ribbon-cutting ceremony over new bathrooms at one of the campsites.

“Not really,” I say. “We grew up this weird mix of sheltered and worldly.”

“I have no idea what that means,” she says.

“You wouldn’t. You were busy running all over Bellerive, quite literally.”