Page 5 of Royal Trouble
The bartender flashed a winning smile, eyes raking over her as he approached to take her order. She wasn’t sure if she should be flattered or offended on behalf of women everywhere. It was a tough call given the fuchsia bridesmaid dress she wore was two sizes too small, making her boobs defy the laws of gravity.
Taking her own measurements had seemed like a great way to save a few bucks when she’d ordered the dress. Now? Not so much.
If she passed out from lack of oxygen, at least she could take comfort in the fact that her boobs looked amazing.
“What can I get for you?” the bartender asked, placing a white cocktail napkin on the bar.
“Vodka neat.” There wasn’t room in the dress for much else, but she needed to take the edge off before the bridal party dance.
“Make that two,” came the self-assured command from the tux to her left.
Everly rolled her eyes but didn’t turn to acknowledge the speaker. She wasn’t sure which was worse, his presumptuous pickup or trolling the wedding scene for single women. Maybe if she ignored him, he’d go away so she could get her buzz on in peace.
Or not.
He squeezed into the empty space next to her, his broad shoulders filling the narrow gap between them as he leaned forward and rested his forearms on the bar. He smelled like pine trees and fresh air, as if he’d just come in from outdoors. The clean, crisp scent was a welcome change from the overwhelming fragrance of sandalwood that seemed to cling to every other man in the place, and her curiosity was piqued.
“No one should drink alone at a wedding,” he said, pitching his voice low. The words came smooth and sweet as honey, but she didn’t miss the hint of amusement in his tone.
“There are over two hundred guests here. I’d hardly call that drinking alone,” she countered, turning toward him. Their eyes locked, and her heart stuttered as she found herself face-to-face with the last person she wanted to see: His Royal Highness Prince Alexander Stanley.
She’d known he would be attending the wedding, but with two hundred guests, she’d kind of hoped to avoid him. After all, no need to tempt fate—or her resolve—by putting herself in his orbit. She’d been serious when she told Mr. Larson she wasn’t interested in writing tabloid trash.
Been there, done that, have the emotional baggage to prove it.
“I’d call it a matter of opinion,” Xander said, quirking a brow. “Not to sound like a pretentious ass—”
“Too late.” Everly gave him a saccharine smile.
He ignored the dig. “But you can be surrounded by people and still be alone,” he finished.
“Speaking from experience?”
“Would you believe me if I said yes?” he asked, expertly dodging the question and lobbing one back at her.
She was saved from answering when the bartender returned with their drinks.
Xander turned to thank the man, and Everly took the opportunity to study his profile. It had been years since they’d last crossed paths, and though it should have been impossible, the royal spare had gotten even sexier. Everly had always been a sucker for nice eyes—windows to the soul and all that—and Xander had the most beautiful blue eyes she’d ever seen. They were clear and bright, like the Aegean in spring, and though he hadn’t inherited the same fine-bone structure as the other Stanley children, the sharp cut of his stubble-lined jaw and slight cleft in his chin lent themselves nicely to his roguish appearance.
And then there was his smile. The man had a wicked, full-lipped grin that promised sex and seduction.
Even her ovaries took notice when he smiled, and she didn’t even like the guy.
“Now,” he said, turning back to her with drink in hand. “Where were we?”
“You were feigning loneliness to earn my sympathy.”
“Was it working?”
“Not a chance.” She grinned in spite of herself. “Nice try, but you’re not fooling anyone, Your Royal Highness.”
The prince threw his head back and laughed, a deep rumble that hummed across her skin like a summer storm. She gave him another slow once-over. Which, judging by her suddenly parched mouth, was a terrible idea.
Damn.
The man might be an arrogant ass, but he could rock a tuxedo. The black fabric hugged his athletic body, highlighting his broad chest and narrow waist. If his personality didn’t suck so hard, she might be tempted to proposition him. Rumor had it what the spare lacked in humility he more than made up for in the bedroom.
Xander gave her a knowing smirk, and heat flooded her cheeks.