Chapter 4

chapter

four

JOEY

"Why has this been the slowest day ever?" I ask Lorraine.

"It has been," she agrees. "Probably the rain. People are just staying home, I guess."

I glance out the front diner windows and the rain is still coming down in sheets. The parking lot is already a muddy mess. "Yeah, that's not going to be fun driving home in."

"No kidding. I think I'll have Barry come and pick me up. Leave my car here until tomorrow. I hate driving in this weather."

"Same. And one of my windows leaks. I guess I should be thankful it's not the driver's side window." I finish my coffee creamer sculpture. "Check it out."

Lorraine looks over and laughs at my makeshift Creamer Castle. "Look at you! Bet you were good with LEGOs."

"Probably would have been, but I never had any. Maybe someday. I love those ones that are like flower bouquets. So clever."

The bell over the door rings, indicating a customer. I quickly swipe all the coffee creamer pods into a basket we keep under the counter. Then I grab a rag and go around the counter to wipe down the empty tables. Again.

"There are my favorite girls," a man says.

I glance up and find Brandon Jacks. He's been coming in more regularly since his last visit. Lorraine has covered for me a couple of times, telling him I've got too many tables to wait on him. But we obviously won't be able to use that excuse today. The only other people in here with us are Mr. McEntire and Mr. Phillips, the two octogenarians who spend most of their days here playing checkers in one of the booths.

Brandon gives me a slow once over that makes my stomach flop with ick as he walks towards me.

"It's raining," I say, blurting out the first words that pop into my head. "I mean, it's probably dangerous driving out there."

He stops too close to me, so that I'm all but wedged between the booth behind me and his body and then puts a possessive hand on my hip. Lorraine is still behind the counter and Kyle, the guy who mans the griddle, is in back. It's not like I'm in danger, but my back is to the door so I can't catch Lorraine's eye to let her know I've been cornered.

Brandon leans in closer, murmuring, "You sweet thing. Don't you worry about me. Nothing's too dangerous for me."

I'm tempted to mime puking. Or puke for real. Either one.

I try to move away from his touch, one because he's gross, and two because his fingers are digging into my skin. Which, frankly just pisses me off.

Honestly, I know I could get free of him if I needed to. Most places I lived were fine, but some weren't. I learned how to take care of myself. I didn't have any fancy training, but I've watched a lot of videos online about how to defend yourself. So if I need to get free, I can.

However … there's always a bit of calculation involved. After all, I'm a waitress and I live off tips. And, as Lorraine has reminded me, Brandon Jacks is hot shit in town. Which is not to say I'm going to let him grope me on the regular. I just need to figure out how to wiggle free from his attentions without pissing him off and bringing my life down around me.

Before I decide how exactly to handle Mr. Handsy, the bell over the door rings again and another customer enters. On a rainy, slow day like today, that alone might be enough to snag my attention. But on top of that, Lorraine, lets out a sigh of appreciation.

"Oh my," Lorraine says. "Aren't you a tall drink of water. You need some help, sugar?"

It's enough to catch the attention of both Brandon and me. He backs up a step, giving me just enough room to turn and face the door. Brandon is standing behind me now, with his hand on my hip, but I hardly notice now, because my attention zeros in on the man who just walked into the diner.

He's hella tall, with mile-wide shoulders, and the kind of arrogant swagger usually reserved for professional athletes and movie stars. Not that we get many of those in Hat Creek.

Oh, no. In Hat Creek we only get douche canoes like Brandon Jacks, whose swagger was bought and paid for by his daddy's money.

This guy, on the other hand, his swagger is earned and genuine. I can see it in the way he pauses just inside the door and scans the room, like he's surveying his domain. It's hot AF.

And that's even before his gaze lands on me.

The second his eyes meet mine, I feel …

I don't even know what I feel. Like time stops. Or maybe it's my heart that stops. Or maybe it starts for the first time ever.

I don't even know how to describe all the ways my body responds to this guy. I only know that I've never felt anything like it before.

Then this guy, this huge beast of a man, walks straight for me.

"Joey Kincaid?" he asks.

Holy. Shitballs.

This guy is, hands down, the hottest guy I have ever seen. Not just in real life in this tiny Texas town. Like hotter than anyone you could ever see on television or a movie.

Hotter than Jason Momoa.

Okay, maybe as hot as Jason Momoa. But seriously so attractive, my brain scrambles.

Dark hair, an olive complexion with that perfect day's worth of stubble and the most mesmerizing, intense eyes I've ever seen.

Green eyes. So green, they're the color of that new burst of green that covers the trees in springtime. Leaf green.

The look in his eyes shoots a zing of awareness right down to my lady bits.

I fight the urge to step closer to him, but then remember Brandon is still standing behind me with his arm around my body.

I want Brandon to let me go so I can walk up to the hot stranger and rub against him like a cat in heat.

His question is still hanging in the air, so I give a little nod.

His lips curve into a hint of a smile as his eyes continue to take me in with an intensity I don't understand. No one has ever looked at me like this. He's not leering or ogling me. Instead, it's like he's trying to memorize everything about me.

Finally, he gives a tiny nod. "Yes," he murmurs. "You are the princess Joey Kincaid." His voice is rich and melodic with an accent I don't recognize. "My princess."

I snort. Because there is no part of me that resembles royalty. But then I remember the circumstances I'm currently in. Creepy, married man, holding me against his body like I belong there, or very attractive stranger who is calling me his princess. I realize there's much to unpack with this man, but I'll worry about that later. Right now, I'm trusting my gut that he is harmless and won't hurt me.

I rip myself out of Brandon's hold and go to this mesmerizing stranger. "Yes, I am your princess. I can't believe you came out in this weather just to see me on your day off." I blink up at him, willing him to go along with my nonsense.

He reaches down and cups my face. The moment his hands touch my skin, it's like an electrical current flows through my body. The flair in his eyes tells me he's feeling it too. Then he lowers his head and kisses the hell out of me. I gasp, which gives him entrance to my mouth. I'm not even sure I'm participating because there is something in his touch that feels otherworldly. Like I'm drugged.

"What the hell is this?" Brandon barks. He walks straight up to the stranger. "Who the fuck are you?"

Mr. Smokin' Hot raises his head to glare at Brandon. He's still cupping my jaw, the skin of his wrists hot against the skin of my neck. He doesn't release me. He just frowns at Brandon … looking at him like he's a fly buzzing around his dinner. He gives a little huff of annoyance, clearly dismissing Brandon.

He gives me another one of his soul-searing looks and is about to lower his mouth to mine again when Brandon reaches past me to shove the stranger's shoulder.

"Hey, I'm talking to you!"

The man looks down at Brandon in apparent confusion. "I am not talking to you."

Brandon, despite being outclassed, puffs out his chest. "Well, you should be because–"

He doesn't get the chance to finish that sentence, because the beautiful man with the green eyes reaches around and pinches Brandon on the back of his neck. Just like that, the creep crumples to the floor in a loud heap.

I gasp and turn to stare down at Brandon's body. "What the hell did you just do? Did you kill him?"

The stranger looks affronted as if I've insulted him. "No, I merely activated his lynditsh nerve to momentarily incapacitate him."

I bend down and feel for a pulse. It's there, strong and steady under my fingers. "His what now?"

A shrug. "Lynditsh nerve. It is a common defense against pests."

Lorraine cackles from behind us. "Oh sugar, you are too much. Now tell me where you're from because I just can't place your accent."

"I am from a place far away. And one not nearly as dusty and sodden as this."

Lorraine gives me a smile. "See? The big guy just isn't from around here. Sounds like maybe he's even from somewhere that treats women with a little more respect than this pest here." She nudges Brandon's leg with the toe of her sensible tennis shoes.

"Maybe, but here in our dusty and sodden town, you can't just run around knocking people out because you don't like their attitude." I smack Brandon's cheek a few times, but he doesn't stir. "Um, how long is temporary, because he's not waking up?"

The stranger looks down and frowns. "Perhaps it is more effective on humans than I anticipated."

I roll my eyes and stand back up. "Well, whatever, you better get out of here, because Brandon here owns the local car dealership and he thinks he's hot shit. He'll sue you if you're still here when he wakes up."

"I am not leaving without you."

Oh boy. Maybe wherever he's from he's never heard of the fake boyfriend trope. I blow out a breath. "Look, I'm sorry if I led you on by pretending you were my boyfriend. At the time, you seemed like the lesser of two evils, but trust me when I tell you that you do not want to stick around."

He takes a step closer to me and picks up one of my hands. "I understand your confusion now. I'm not your boyfriend . I'm your be'lahshuk."

"Bella huh?"

"Your be'lahshuk. The mate that the Tides of Be'lah have chosen for you. I'm here to return you to your kingdom."

I look around him at Lorraine. "Did someone put an extra dose of crazy in the coffee today?"

She snickers.

"I do not see what is humorous." The big guy scowls. "You are my be'lahshuk, my princess, my fated mated."

Fated mate. Now that term I do understand. "Are you under the misguided illusion that you can transform your body into a wolf or maybe a bear?"

"No, I am Prince Kael De Survacia and I am your destiny," the hot guy says. "I am here to bring you home."

He grabs me by the hips, and pulls me to him, pressing our bodies against each other and I release a weird squeaky noise. My hands automatically come to rest on his chest between us. A distinct, hard bulge pressed into my belly. Well, hello there, big guy.

"You are exquisite," he says.

"I don't understand what's happening right now," I say, my voice sounding strange and breathless.

"Whatever it is, it's fantastic," Lorraine says from behind me.

He leans forward, slides his nose up the side of my neck to my ear and his voice drops low, his next words only for me. "You are perfect. So soft and round. I can't wait to mark you as mine."

Desire, hot and wet pools between my legs. This guy's weird seduction is working. Maybe his pheromones are leaking some sort of aphrodisiac.

I shake my head. No. He's clearly fucking nuts. Or this is someone's idea of a joke. A cruel joke.

Annoyance burns through me.

He's either crazy or a jerk. Either way, I'm a fool for letting my body respond to him.

I press my hands against his chest and push away from him. His arms loosen and drop to his sides.

If those rock hard muscles of his chest are any indication, he could have easily kept his hold on me, but he releases me the instant I resist. So at least he isn't a total jerk.

"I don't know who put you up to this, but it's not very nice." I cross my arms over my chest and scowl at him.

"I do not understand," he says. There's genuine confusion in his tone as his perfect brow tensed.

Apparently, hot guy—or Kael—has never been rejected in his life—which, given how hot he is, seems plausible.

"You don't wish to mate with me?" he asks.

Why does he have to be so hot and have such a seductive voice? I nearly whimper.

"No, I do not want to mate." I turn around to Lorraine to find her grinning widely at me. "This isn't funny."

She lifts a thin shoulder and her smile deepens, making the laugh lines at the corners of her eyes stand out. "I'm enjoying it."

"It's cruel, Lorraine," I say.

"I am not being cruel, Princess Joey Kincaid, I am speaking the truth. We are destined to be together." A look of pain crosses over his eyes, as if my rejection actually hurts him. But that can't be right. He doesn't even know me. "Have you not been waiting for me your whole life?"

Laughter bursts from my lips. "Have I been waiting my whole life for a prince to come find me? No. Not even a little bit."

"You act as if you have no notion of what I'm talking about," he says. "Didn't they tell you?"

"Didn't who tell me?"

"Your guardians. They should have protected you, raised you until I could come and claim you. They were supposed to tell you about your destiny."

Guardians? Destiny? This guy had flown right beyond weird and straight to crazy cakes.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I say. "If this is a joke, you're taking it too far. And if it's not a joke…"

I just shake my head, unsure what else to say. What can this be, other than a joke?

Behind me Lorraine clicks her tongue. "And he's so pretty."

I glance at her and see my unspoken words echoed in her gaze. He is too pretty to be so weird.

"I had no guardians," I say, doing nothing to hide the bitterness from my tone. "I was raised in the system. In foster care."

I'd drifted from foster home to foster home for as long as I could remember. Princess fantasies were in short supply in my childhood.

I've always been all on my own.

I wipe my sweaty palms on my apron, hoping that I look more put together than I feel. "If you're looking for someone named Joey Kincaid, you probably found the wrong girl. I don't even know if that's the name my parents—whoever they might have been—gave me at birth. It's just the name some social worker assigned to me when I was admitted to the system."

I smooth my hands down my skirt, this time going for dismissive finality.

But my hand brushes against syrup and comes away sticky and gross.

Because that's how my life is. I am perpetually cleaning some substance off my hands or clothes. It's par for the course that the only hot guy to cross my path is bat shit crazy.

He takes a step towards me, his eyebrows angry slashes over those eyes. I still can't tell what color they are. They seemed to change depending on angle or light.

"You are Joey Kincaid," his words come out hard, but he doesn't seem mad at me. It's more like he's just frustrated that I don't believe him. "That is the name given to me by the Historian. Even if I didn't trust the information supplied to me by the Historian, I knew the moment I saw you that you were destined to be my mate."

I take a step back at his words. "Right. Because love at first sight is totally a thing and guys are always meeting their destined mates in small town diners."

He ignores my snark and continues as if I hadn't said a word. "I do not understand why you were in this system, as you called it and not with the guardian assigned to you."

Something in his expression unsettles me. Something about the intense way he looks at me. Like he can't believe this injustice. Like he wants to battle dragons on my behalf.

I have to shake myself to get free of his spell.

Battle dragons?

Where did that come from?

Flights of fancy aren't really my thing. Not in real life anyway. Meanwhile, Brandon is still snoozing away on the floor at my feet.

"I'm an orphan. I'm sure they have them in your town too." I try to soften my voice and give him a small smile. "Look, I'm sorry for whatever confusion led you to me, but I'm not who you're looking for. I'm a nobody in a small dusty town in the middle of West Texas; I work at this fine establishment." That draws a snort from Lorraine. "And I go to community college in my spare time to try to carve out a better life for myself someday. But I'm not a princess, and I'm not your mate. And I have work to do."

I turn away from him then, not wanting to look at his ridiculously handsome face any more.

A guy like this—even one who is slightly bonkers—isn't for me.

Hot, broody guys who want to protect me or even—and I blushed just thinking about it—just wanted to bury their cocks in my warm pussy, just aren't part of my real life.

My life is syrup and making rent and instant ramen noodles and saving every spare dime for tuition. I'm happy with my life. Whatever emotional turmoil I have about being an orphan, about being alone in the world, about missing out on all the things that come with having a family of your own… I made peace with it when I was eighteen.

I don't want to wallow in all the things I don't have. And I don't have time to. Not if I'm going to work my way through college and scrape together a better life for myself.

Ten minutes later, Lorraine finds me in the back supply room. I have napkins out to refill the dispensers, but haven't made it out to the front of the diner yet.

"Is he gone?" I ask.

"Yep," she says.

I glance down to see my fist around the napkins I've been holding. I smooth them out and set them on the table beside the napkin dispenser. Blowing out a breath, I turn around and prop my hip against the edge of the table.

Her angular features soften as if she knows exactly how confused I felt.

"I can't explain it, hon. He clearly thinks he knows you. For what it's worth, I don't think he means you any harm." She shrugs. "Maybe he's just foreign. His accent is weird."

I take a slow breath. Lorraine had had a rough life, much like my own, and when that happens, you tend to develop a quick and accurate impression of people and their character. I hadn't felt threatened by Kael either. But nothing he said made any sense.

"Let me ask you something," Lorraine says. "Did he scare you? Make you nervous?"

"No." Neither of those feelings had ricocheted through my body. Desire, oh hell yes. Curiosity, most definitely. And something else, something I couldn't quite put my finger on.

As if she can read my thoughts, Lorraine gives a snort. "Unlike Brandon Jacks in there who could give the creeps to that clown from It."

"Is he still out?" I ask hesitantly, not really sure if I want to know.

"Nah. He left."

"Really? I thought he'd put up more of a stink."

Lorraine flashes a devious grin. "He probably would have, but I told him he fainted and said that no one could blame him for passing out from fright under the circumstances."

"You didn't!"

"I sure did."

"And he believed that?"

She shrugs. "Mr. McEntire and Mr. Phillips backed me up. Those old codgers made it very convincing." But then she steps closer and asks, "What did he whisper to you, when he was all up in your space?" Lorraine asks.

My cheeks flame. I don't want to think on those hot words that had made me wetter than the last porn I'd seen.

Lorraine's smoke-induced chuckle fills the storage room. "That good, huh? I'll say this, that man was unbelievably hot. Like he walked right out of the pages of one of my romance novels. Damn. I'd have had a hard time turning down his request to mate, had he propositioned me."

I snort. "Mate. Who even says that?"

"Evidently your destiny does."