“Boston, I’m not royalty.”
I wave him off with my hand. “Oh, you are so royalty! I can’t believe you didn’t tell me this before! I’m so adding that to my list. This…you being royalty…and you and me doing the dirty—like, numerous times—I think this might actually top meeting Jake Wethers.”
His brow creases. “So, you have to discover there’s a drop of seriously diluted royal blood in me in order for me to top Jake Wethers? God, I feel so fucking special.”
I can tell from his tone that he’s playing with me.
“What can I say? Monarchy just marginally tops rock royalty.”
He laughs again. The sound is so rich and pure that it reaches a hand inside my body and wraps around my heart.
“Anyway, don’t worry, Hunter. You already made my list way before Jake Wethers did.”
“I did?” He glances at me, the look in his eyes suddenly tender.
“The first thing I checked off my list—kiss a stranger. You were my stranger.”
He reaches his hand over and takes mine. He lifts my hand to his mouth and kisses it.
That theoretical hand he has around my heart squeezes.
We’re coming up close to the castle, and he still hasn’t answered my question.
“So, what do I call your grandpa then?” I ask again.
“Most people just call him Bernie.”
“Bernie?” I frown. Doesn’t sound very lordlike.
“It’s his name—well, Bernard is, but I haven’t heard anyone ever call him by his given name.”
“You’re sure I should just call him Bernie?” Feels weird to address someone of nobility by their first name like that.
“Well, you can call him Lord if you want, but I don’t think it’ll stick. It’s just not him. You’ll know what I mean when you meet him. Now, me, on the other hand? If you at any point want to call me Lord or Sir or…God, then feel free, babe.”
That earns him a jab in the arm.
“Hey!” He rubs the spot I just hit. “Easy there, Boston. I bruise like a fucking peach.”
“Sure you do.” Fighting a smile, I shake my head at his smirking face.
“Still, you pack a hell of a punch there for such a tiny person.”
“Yeah, well, make sure to remember that the next time you have a smart comment ready to roll off your tongue.”
“I’d much rather roll you off my tongue.”
Oh my God.
A shudder runs up my spine, desire suddenly coiling in my stomach.
I love it when he says things like that to me.
Liam brings the car to a stop outside the castle just as a man comes out the front door and heads straight for the car.
Liam’s grandpa.
Lord Hunter.
Or Bernie.
I can’t call him Bernie. It doesn’t seem respectful enough.
I don’t know what I was expecting…but the guy walking over to the car isn’t it.
He’s an older version of Liam. Tall and distinguished, his short hair silver, face clean-shaven—he’s handsome for an old guy. I bet he was seriously good-looking when he was younger. I can see where Liam gets his awesome looks.
Looking at Lord Hunter, it’s hard to pin an age on him.
Liam gives me a smile and then gets out of the car. I climb out my side and shut the door.
“Been way too long since I last saw you, boy.” He hugs Liam.
Out of nowhere, a lump appears in my throat, and tears prick my eyes. Apparently, I’m an emotional wreck today. I blink furiously to rid myself of the tears.
“I was here only a few weeks ago,” Liam says as his grandpa releases him.
“Like I said, too long.” He claps his hands on Liam’s shoulders. “Have you grown since I last saw you?” His head tilts to the side, his eyes squinting at Liam.
Liam laughs. “I stopped growing a long time ago, Grandpa.”
“You look taller. Maybe I’m just shrinking.” He shrugs.
Then, his grandpa’s eyes come over to me. I’m standing by the hood of Liam’s car.
“You must be Taylor.” He leaves Liam and walks over to me, stopping just in front of me. “So, you’re the one who finally got my grandson to take some time off from that business of his.”
“That would be me.” I smile. “It’s really nice to meet you, Lord Hunter.”
He laughs a rich and deep sound. “We don’t stand on formalities here, Taylor. Call me Bernie.”
“Okay”—I smile—“Bernie.”
“You have the most interesting hair color.”
“Oh, thank you.” I touch a hand to my hair. “I just recently had it done.”
“It really suits you.” He smiles. Then, he hugs me.
He actually hugs me.
He wraps his arms around me and squeezes.
I freeze.
I’m not sure what to do. In this moment, I realize that, aside from Liam—who mostly hugs me after he’s screwed my brains out—Bernie is the only other person I’ve hugged since my family died.
I shake off the shock and hug him back so as not to be rude.
Bernie releases me and stares down at me. “Thank you,” he says softly.
I’m not sure if he’s thanking me for the hug or for Liam taking time off work. So, I just shrug and say, “No probs.”
He smiles wide. “I just adore the American accent. My wife was from America—New York. Amazing woman. Far too good for me. So, Liam tells me that you’re from Boston.” Bernie has his arm around me and is now steering me toward the house.