Whose Bed Have Your Claws Been Under: Chapter 15

I wasn’t sure where our teasing was taking us, but I couldn’t wait to find out.

We drank our cocoa. Before I could suggest I might actually want to take a long soak in a tub, Bart called out again.

“Lunch is being served in the dining room, and after that, we have a lovely surprise for you all.”

Monica clapped her hands in excitement. Trevor beamed, and I could tell he must be involved in the planning.

“Right this way, Princess,” one of the staff members called out, waving my way. “The bride and groom should enter first, but as royalty, you must go second.”

“I’m not a princess,” I whispered as I passed her, leaving the parlor through the door connecting this room to the next.

“Flying under the radar, are we, Your Highness?” she asked with a wink. “I understand. If I was royal, I’d worry about the paparazzi too. Rest assured; your secret is safe with us. No one will say a word to the press.”

“Ah, um.” I pinched my eyes shut and grabbed Darrow’s hand, tugging him behind me into the dining room. I leaned against his arm as we rounded the big dining room table to find our seats. “You’re in trouble, big boy.”

He reeled back, but grinned. “Me?”

“Yes, you,” I hissed. “You’ve convinced the staff I’m a hidden princess.”

“There’s nothing like living the life of a royal.” He held out my chair for me to sit.

“But I’m not,” I said over my shoulder as I slid into my seat.

“To me, you are.” He helped nudge me forward, then snatched up my napkin that had been folded into a three-dimensional swan and draped it across my lap. “For you, Your Royal Highness, I only want the best.”

That was him. I knew it for sure.

“As long as we convince them before we leave,” I said, relenting.

“We can do that.”

He dropped into the chair beside me while our friends settled around us. Grannie Vi and Uncle Bub hobbled into the room complaining about aching backs and hips and dropped into the chairs on Darrow’s right.

Grannie leaned around Darrow, peering my way. “Did someone call you princess?”

“It’s a cutesy name,” I said. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

“Fake it until you make it, I always say.” She gave me a sassy nod. “Haven’t you heard of visualization? If you truly believe something will happen, it’s bound to come true. I did that once with the lottery.”

“You won the lottery?” I asked, stunned.

“Well, only a few scratch tickets. But one of them won me ten dollars.” She tapped her temple. “I visualized it, and it came true.” Leaning back, she nudged Bub’s side. “What do you think, sweetheart?”

“That I’m hungry and that the gosh-darn staff better bring out the food pronto,” he grumbled.

She grunted. “I hope they serve beans.”

“Why beans?” Darrow asked, probably to make conversation. Why else ask?

Grannie Vi leaned close to him, lowering her voice to her version of a whisper, which, for the rest of us, came out at a medium screech. “They keep me regular.”

“Ah, I see,” Darrow said. “That’s important.”

“Darn right it is,” Uncle Bub said. “Wait until you’re our age. You kids think things get easier as you get older, ‘cause we’re retired and all, but I’m here to tell you, nuthin’ gets easier. You worry about your joints failin’ you at the worst times—”

“Like during sex,” Grannie Vi jumped in to say.

Rylee groaned. Cringing, she pressed her face into Gunner’s chest. He was soaking up every word Grannie said like she was an oracle come down from the heavens to predict which stocks would surge on the market.

“Tell it, Grannie,” Bub said. “These youngins just don’t realize how good they have it. Why, when I was your age, I didn’t get married in a castle like this.” He leaned close to Grannie. “Please pardon me for speaking about her.”

“I understand, dear,” she said, patting his arm resting on the table. “She was a part of your life, and I’m sure you’re better because you knew her.”

He huffed. “That’s debatable. Divorced her after I caught her in bed with our neighbor. But as I was sayin’, after we got married at a regular old church, we hopped in my jalopy and headed to the city for a few nights. None of this fancy stuff for us.”

“It was like that for me and my dearly departed husband,” Grannie said, peering up at the heavens. “Rest his soul. We had a simple ceremony and a simple honeymoon.”

We were saved from further enlightening conversation when the staff brought out covered dishes with a variety of food, enough to satisfy eight hungry sculptors and two elderly relatives.

“Here you are, Your Highness,” someone said from behind me. “We thought you might enjoy a dish more worthy of your lofty status.” She placed a plate in front of me.

I stared down at a pile of round seashells about the size of my thumb, floating in butter.

“Ah, thank you,” I said.

“Escargot,” Grannie exclaimed. She scowled at the steak tips revealed on one of the platters, the buttered potatoes, and the mix of vegetables accompanying the meal. “I don’t suppose . . .” She extended her fork my way.

Thankfully, after delivering my dish, the staff scurried back to the kitchen, perhaps to hunt down a wild boar to serve for my second course.

I lifted the entire plate and handed it to Grannie. “I don’t see any beans, sadly, but you can have these as a consolation prize.”

“Ah, never worry about that, love. I’ll take some fiber supplements before I go to sleep tonight.”

After that, we dished up the food and ate.

Rylee and Trevor were quite good at handling their elderly relative. Grannie tried to drive the conversation into bedroom activities at least three times, but Rylee distracted her by asking her to tell us stories from when she was little. Trevor suggested she sing, which maybe wasn’t such a great idea when Uncle Bub joined in, sloshing his cup of beer back and forth.

The sweet old lady shared what it was like growing up on the coast of Massachusetts with eight siblings, keeping us all chuckling about their antics.

When she started to lag and brought up the merits of alien dildos, I steered the conversation to speculation about what the afternoon surprise might be.

“We’re going sledding,” Darrow said with complete certainty.

“There aren’t any big hills near the castle,” I said.

“Sure there are,” Bart said. He’s taken a set with Poppy at everyone’s urging. “The hill out front would do nicely.” He winked at Monica, who giggled.

Okay, so sledding might be in our future.

“Actually . . .” I said. “I think the afternoon’s made for a bubble bath.”

“Oh, hell, yeah,” Monica said with a grin. “I double bought the sponge on a stick, so a bath is on my agenda for sure.”

“I’ll be happy to wash your back,” Trevor said.

She tickled his side, and his rough laughter burst out. “And I’ll be happy to let you.”

“What about you, Paige?” Darrow asked softly.

I grinned and lowered my voice. “I think that scrub brush has your name on it.”