Recklessly Rogue (Royals Gone Rogue #4)

9. Henry

Chapter 9

Henry

T he house is still quiet when I step into the kitchen through the back door after my run the next morning.

Good. I’m glad they’re not awake yet. Last night was a lot and April and Elliot need the sleep.

I didn’t expect to see Ruby. She’s a night owl and a late sleeper.

She’d told me once that she and Scarlett made perfect co-parents because Scarlett was a morning person while Ruby didn’t mind doing midnight or even two a.m. feedings when Mariah was a baby. Her bar and strip club jobs had always worked great for them raising Scarlett’s daughter together.

I scrub a hand over my face as I head to the fridge for water. I should still be sleeping. But I’d had a fitful night in Ruby’s bed, surrounded by all of her stuff and her scent. Then I got up to go for a run despite sleeping like shit and jet lag. I will never get used to the time change between the States and Cara, but I know the sooner I resume a normal schedule, the better off I’ll be.

I take three long gulps of water.

I’ve had sleepless nights because of Ruby before. Some because we’d been up all night, naked in each other’s arms. Some because we were apart and I was missing her with an ache I couldn’t relieve no matter what I’d done. The ache hadn’t just been in my dick, but deep in my chest. Hell, in my bones.

But none of those nights had been as bad as last night.

She was right next door. I was in her bed. My heart—and yes, my dick—were wondering what the fuck we were doing apart.

Not falling further in love. Getting over each other. Moving on.

Right. We are not sleeping together and falling further in love, on purpose.

It’s a good plan, everything considered.

I peruse the contents of Ruby’s fridge, grabbing milk, eggs, and bacon before nudging the door shut.

It’s just after seven and I need a shower, but I want to get the pancakes started before Elliot comes down. I don’t want him to think I forgot.

As I open packages, measure ingredients, and crack eggs I think about what I’m really doing here.

Twenty-four hours ago I was in Cara, preparing for a trip to the US with a prince and his new princess. I was looking at the layouts of the penthouse suites in expensive hotels, thinking about how many cars we’d need for each trip, exchanging messages with the security teams for the VIP guests who would be at each site to bring out the media and raise awareness.

Now I’m making pancakes for a little boy in small-town Ohio.

And I have no regrets.

Well, except for missing the lobster at DaVinci’s in Portland. The chef there is amazing.

But there’s no way Ruby really believed that I wouldn’t show up when I found out about April and Elliot.

Maybe she thought she could just walk away and ignore me, but she forgot that neither of us can ever really walk away and ignore problems around us.

We have a lot in common. And right now we have Elliot to take care of. Together.

I’m going to figure out a plan for the kid and his mom today. We’re going to put things in motion. I’m not going to tolerate Elliot being scared and hiding out from his own father. That’s bullshit.

I gather flour, baking powder, sugar, and salt and start combining everything in a bowl. If Ruby has a problem with me rummaging in her kitchen and helping myself to bowls, spoons, griddles, and food, we’re both in for a long next few weeks. Because this is nothing compared to how involved I’m going to be in everything she’s got going on.

She’s going to argue with me. Protest. Push back. But it won’t matter.

She’s feisty, but she’s not stupid. She’ll understand that I’m right. About everything.

And my focus will be on Elliot to start. She’ll see that, and there will be no way for her to fight me on the things we need to do for that little boy. She won’t want to.

I’m going to fix things for Elliot. And April. But April is an adult whose choices have to be respected, even if they suck. Elliot is a kid and he’s at the mercy of the adults around him.

But I’m one of those adults and I’m going to make extremely good choices.

I whip the ingredients in the bowl hard with the whisk I pulled from Ruby’s very messy middle drawer full of utensils.

I know how it feels to dread seeing your own father and I’m going to do everything I can to change that for Elliot. I was powerless to change my own situation but I’m not powerless anymore. I know what it’s like to have someone come in and fix your shitty reality. The relief, the weight that lifts, the happiness when you learn that your father doesn’t get to write all the rules, and that other people can care even more than your own flesh and blood.

I’m going to be sure Elliot knows those feelings too. He’s a lot younger than I was, but that only means he has more years of happiness and security to look forward to.

I’m going to get Elliot and April somewhere safe where Chris can’t bother them. Ever again. Then I’m going to make sure they are secure and set up for ongoing success.

Then I’m going to do the same for Ruby. With or without her knowledge. Or permission.

But, until everyone’s awake, I’ll make pancakes.

Twenty minutes later I have bacon, scrambled eggs, and airplane-shaped pancakes in casserole pans, keeping warm in the oven. I saved some batter so that Elliot can help make a few pancakes too. I told him he could be my helper and I meant it.

If I tell him something is going to happen, it will. If I tell him I’m going to do something, I’ll do it. Airplane pancakes are just the start.

Since the house is still quiet, I head upstairs for a quick shower.

I pass the closed bedroom doors, grabbing a towel out of the hall closet. I’m in and out of the bathroom in less than ten minutes, deciding there’s no need to shave today.

But the bedroom doors are still shut when I pass them again and there’s no noise behind them at all.

Okay, maybe I’ll have to have a pancake or two by myself.

I return to the kitchen and make coffee. I’ve only taken one sip and dug the syrup out of the pantry when my phone rings.

I check the screen.

It’s Ruby.

I frown. What the hell?

“Hey, Gem.”

“Hey, can you bring those rolls down soon? They’re getting restless.”

I pull the phone away from my ear and look at the screen. Yes, it’s Ruby. “Did you mean to call me?” I ask her. Then another thought occurs to me. “Are you upstairs?” Did she dial me in her sleep or something?

“Henry,” she says with a sigh. “Of course I meant to call you. No, I’m not upstairs. I need those cinnamon rolls. Like right now.”

“Cinnamon rolls? What cinnamon rolls?” I look around the kitchen. Then I frown again. “What do you mean you’re not upstairs?”

“Wow, you are a great bodyguard,” she says dryly. “We left forty-five minutes ago.”

While I was running. I’m off the stool and stomping to the front window. Sure enough, her car is gone.

So is the car I assumed was April’s.

Ruby said we left forty-five minutes ago. What the fuck ?

“Is April with you?” I ask.

“Yes. Actually, I’m here with her . I heard her get up and I couldn’t come down here instead of her because I don’t know how to operate the stupid espresso machine either, but I assumed that you wouldn’t want them to come down here alone.”

“You have Elliot with you too?”

“Of course. We weren’t going to leave him at the house alone. And you weren’t there.”

“I was just out for a run. You could have waited.”

“We couldn’t. They were all calling both of our phones!”

“Who was?”

“ All of them.”

“Who is?—”

“Just a minute, Ben! I’m coming!” she calls to someone.

I frown. Who the hell is Ben? “Where the hell are you?” I head for the stairs, taking them two at a time.

“The bar.”

I stop outside her bedroom where my boots are. “The bar? Big Dick’s?”

“Of course Big Dick’s!” she snaps. “Just a second , Will. If you want your milk frothed, you’ll have to wait for April. I only do cold flat milk!”

I scowl. “The bar I own and told you not to go to today?”

She sighs heavily. “Yes.”

“That bar is not open today.” I grab my boots and shove one foot into the first one.

“Well, the thing is, you can’t buy a business at midnight and then not tell anyone that is used to showing up at said business at seven a.m. that there’s been a change in management and hours,” she says.

I hear a bang behind her, then a hissing sound.

“There are people there?” I ask. “Bloody hell! It’s seven-thirty in the morning!”

“It’s seven forty-eight in the morning and yes, there are people here!” she snaps. “And they’re annoyed they had to wait forty-five minutes past their usual time for coffee and breakfast. Please bring the rolls down here.”

I stomp back down the stairs. “I don’t know what fucking rolls you’re talking about. I?—”

The doorbell rings.

“I’ll see you soon,” Ruby says in my ear. “Hurry up.”

Then she hangs up.

I stare at my phone.

She hung up on me. What is going on?

The doorbell rings again. Then there’s a knock.

I’ll admit, I open the door with trepidation. I don’t like not knowing what’s going on. I’m always the one in charge. I call the shots. I make the plans. This all feels very out of my control, and that makes me wary. And grumpy.

I brace myself, then swing the door open anyway.

Three women are standing on Ruby’s front porch.

“Good morning, Henry,” the white woman in the middle says. She has blond hair with gray streaks, a friendly smile, and a plate of cinnamon rolls.

“Um. Good morning, ladies.”

“I’m Mandy. I have the cinnamon rolls.” She’s in blue jeans, a pink T-shirt, and a long light blue cardigan.

“Well, I guess that’s good. Ruby mentioned I was supposed to have rolls. Maybe you can tell me what they’re for.”

“For Dick’s.” Mandy hands me the plate. “April and Ruby need them.”

I take the plate. “Yes, so I gathered. Is there a reason you’re bringing them here instead of taking them to the bar?” I’m happy to take them. I’m definitely heading to the bar. But I’m very curious about what’s going on.

“Oh, I can’t take them to the bar,” Mandy says. “Will’s there. He might see me.”

“Who’s Will?”

“My husband.”

Okay. “Your husband is at the bar ? This early in the day?” I look down at the plate. These look amazing. The plate is slightly warm, the icing is thick and is melting just a bit, sliding down the sides of huge, fluffy, golden-brown rolls, and I can smell the buttery cinnamon scent even through the plastic wrap covering the plate.

“He goes to Dick’s every morning at seven for coffee and breakfast.”

“To the bar ?” I clarify. “That seems…odd, doesn’t it?”

“It’s where their friends are. They can sit around and watch TV, bitch about politics and the weather, play their games, and stay out of our way,” the Black woman to Mandy’s left adds. “I’m Ada. My husband Ben is there too. And if those rolls don’t show up soon, he might come home, so you need to move it.” She’s wearing a purple pant suit, a multi-colored silk scarf, and her long dark hair falls in braids nearly to her waist. Multiple gold bangles jingle at her wrists.

“But it’s a bar,” I say again. Though why do I care?

Because if these guys are there, Ruby has to be there. And April. That’s really the only reason. If these men need a place to go and everyone has decided that should be a run-down bar on the edge of town, that’s none of my business. As long as it doesn’t get in the way of my plans.

“It’s a building that has everything they need,” the taller white woman behind Mandy and Ada says. Her silvery hair is cut in a bob and she’s wearing gray linen trousers, and a baggy gray sweatshirt that says A Woman Without A Man Is Like A Fish Without A Bicycle.

“You need to get moving,” Mandy says, pointing at the plate. “Don’t want those to get too cold. They need to think April baked them in the kitchen at the bar.”

“It’s that big of a deal they don’t find out they’re from you?”

“It’s good for them to know someone other than their wives can do things for them,” Mandy says.

“If they’re not going to learn to do things for themselves,” the woman at the back says with an eye roll.

“We’ve tried, Cecelia,” Ada says. “You know that. Ben can do everything but bake.” She looks up at me. “How a man who taught college physics for forty years can’t figure out how to make a fucking chocolate chip cookie is beyond me.”

“But April doesn’t actually make cinnamon rolls?” I ask.

“Oh, for God’s sake,” Mandy says. “That girl has way too much going on to worry about baking rolls every damned morning.”

“We’re happy to do it,” Ada adds. “Having her keep track of them for us while we get work done is worth it, believe me.”

“You make cinnamon rolls too?” I ask Ada.

“Oh, no, Mandy does the cinnamon rolls and all the muffins. I do the caramel pecan rolls and the apple crumble bars.”

I look at Cecelia. She holds up her hands. “I’m widowed. None of them are mine, so I don’t have anyone in husband daycare.”

I snort before I can swallow it. “Husband daycare?”

“Basically.” She shrugs. “April makes sure they stay busy at Dick’s, that they eat, take their meds, and she watches for signs of low blood sugar and high blood pressure. And she keeps Charles from wandering. She’s definitely babysitting. But they love it.”

“And it lets Mandy get her painting and reading done,” Ada says. Her smile is fond as she looks at her friend. “She retired two years ago and finally has a chance to paint. She’s amazing. But when Will is there, he’s loud and in the way. He plays the piano and the violin.”

Mandy nods. “And Ada is still working. She’s busy from eight until three and Ben’s a huge distraction.”

“I can do whatever I want,” Cecelia says with a shrug. “But I still support the husband daycare with monetary donations toward coffee supplies and puzzles and shit because I like having my friends free for lunch and book club.”

I feel myself smiling. “I understand.”

Mandy narrows her eyes and points a finger at me. “You better. Because you can not shut the bar down like you tried to today. It has to stay open. April needs the job and those guys need a place to go.”

“So do Holly and the girls,” Ada says.

“And the kids,” Cecelia adds.

I sigh. Shit. “I didn’t know about all of this,” I tell them. “I’ll…work something out. But, April needs…something else.”

Ada frowns. “Why?”

“Some things are going on.” I don’t know how much to tell these women. They seem to know April fairly well, but her personal life isn’t mine to discuss. Besides, the fewer people who know about my plans for April, the more secure she’ll be.

“That job is extremely good for her,” Cecelia says. “You need to leave her there.”

“You could raise her wage though,” Ada says.

“And she’ll need a health plan now that she’s getting rid of Chris.”

“You know about that?” I ask.

“Of course,” Mandy says. “And we know that you paid Dan a million bucks for the bar.”

“Which is outrageous,” Cecelia adds.

“So you obviously can afford to pay both April and Ruby more with benefits ,” Ada says.

“And add a couple more streaming channels,” Mandy says. “Will would love the channel with all the murder documentaries.”

I could definitely pay both women more and add benefits but neither of them will be working at Dick’s much longer. I’m smart enough not to get into that with these women right now, though. I simply nod. “Which channel is that?”

“You’ll have to ask him. But you should get them a bigger TV too,” she says.

“Maybe I’ll add surround sound and some heated recliners,” I say dryly.

Ada and Mandy’s faces both light up. “That would be amazing ,” Mandy says.

I narrow my eyes. I think both of these women are bright enough to catch my sarcasm and are choosing to miss it on purpose.

“Maybe I should just get April a better job than waitressing at a bar,” I say, one eyebrow arching. Jonah calls this my British Asshole look, but I can’t stop it. “Surely you agree she can do more.”

All three women plant a hand on their hips in a seemingly synchronized motion and my instinctive reaction is “oh crap”. My British Asshole look drops.

“She is more than a waitress,” Mandy tells me. “I’m sure on the surface, that’s how it seems, but she is a very sweet, loving girl who finds a lot of happiness in taking care of others. I’ve told her that when her life settles down a little, she should consider being a teacher or a social worker or something. She is so good with everyone who comes in there.”

Ada nods. “She is so patient with Charles and his dementia. She’s taught Michael Spanish. His son married a wonderful Hispanic woman whose mother doesn’t speak much English. Michael wanted to be able to talk with her and asked April to teach him some basic phrases. I guess she did very well in Spanish in high school and then after he asked her to teach him, she went online and studied even more.”

Mandy smiles. “And though she doesn’t have time to bake first thing every morning, she does love to make lunch down there for everyone. She absolutely glows when people compliment her. I think being needed there is very important to her.” Mandy’s smile turns to a frown. At me. “She doesn’t just pour beer.”

“In fact, she rarely pours beer. Dan doesn’t serve alcohol until after six. That’s when Ruby’s shift starts,” Ada informs me.

Cecelia leans forward, pinning me with a direct look. “I assume you’re concerned about Christopher and the trouble he caused last night.”

Mandy and Ada both look at her. She nods at them. “April left him and came to stay here with Ruby last night.”

I frown. “How do you know that?”

She points across the street. “My dead husband’s sister lives right there. She saw April arrive and witnessed what happened with Christopher on this porch. It’s a small town, Henry.”

I blow out a breath. “Then you understand why I need to keep her away from Christopher. That means she needs to be somewhere more secure than the bar.”

“We can help with Christopher,” Ada says.

I give her a questioning look. “Do I want to know what that means?”

Mandy laughs. “If poisoning some cinnamon rolls and burying a body was all it took, we would have gotten rid of Cecelia’s husband twenty years ago.”

I look at Cecelia. “Was your husband abusive?”

“No. Just a boring misogynist.”

“Why did you stay?”

“Because I didn’t become friends with these two until he had stage three brain cancer. If I’d known them when I was younger, they would have talked me into leaving sooner.”

Mandy gives her a smile and Ada bumps her with her hip.

Cecelia just shrugs. “Anyway, I’m not above threatening Christopher with a meat cleaver to the balls,” she tells me. “But I don’t need to do that. I can do something much worse.” She looks at her friends. “ We can do something much worse.”

“What’s that?”

“Make his life miserable if he’s an asshole to her,” she says.

I study her. That’s very similar to what I said to Christopher myself last night. “He’s already been an asshole to her.”

“But we didn’t know that,” Ada says. “Now that we do, we can make sure it stops.”

I think about that. “Do you know Christopher well?” I ask. “What kind of work are you in?”

Ada laughs. So do Mandy and Cecelia.

“I know him well enough. And it doesn’t matter what kind of work I do,” Ada says. “My work doesn’t have to affect him. I live in the same town that he does. I interact with the same people he does. I also interact with the same people April does.”

“Meaning?” I ask.

“It’s hard to blend in in a small town. It’s hard to have anonymity. It’s hard to disappear into a crowd. If you’re a terrible person, people find out. And people generally don’t want to associate with terrible people. Especially when the rest of the town will then assume you’re a terrible person too.”

“Peer pressure,” Mandy says. “It doesn’t just work in grade school.”

“You think you can bully Christopher into being a good guy?” I ask.

“I think we can make it easier for Christopher to behave like a good guy, than it is to behave like an asshole,” Mandy says. “We might not be able to change his heart, but we can make it damned uncomfortable to act like a dickhead. And that’s what we need, right? For him to treat April well, no matter how he actually feels. She’s not going to stay married to him. She doesn’t need him to love her. She just needs him to not be abusive toward her or Elliot.”

I nod. “Christopher cares enough about what you think of him?”

Ada laughs lightly. “Christopher probably barely knows who the three of us are. But we know people who know people Christopher does care about. If the right people tell someone who matters to him the right information, it can influence him.”

“And you would do that?” I ask.

“Of course. Even if we didn’t know and like April, men abusing women and children is not something that’s going to stand in Emerald,” Ada says.

Mandy and Cecelia both nod.

“There are a lot of people in this town I don’t like,” Cecelia says. “But there are none who are going to publicly defend an abuser. I can confidently say that.”

“None who will publicly defend one,” I say. “Are there some who will privately support him?”

“Well, that’s the thing about a small town,” Cecelia says with a smile. “It’s damned near impossible to keep things private here.”

I think about that and realize that these three women know this town far better than I do and I should defer to their expertise. “Okay, if you say we can keep April safe while she’s working at Dick’s, I’ll keep it open.”

“How about you keep it open because it’s the right thing to do for everyone who needs it to be open?” Mandy asks. “And you trust us that April will be safe there because we say she’ll be safe there?”

I study them again for a long moment. I always get to call the shots and people always assume I know what I’m doing and that I’m right. Until now. Here in Emerald, I’m meeting resistance every time I try to make a decision.

“Your husband really drives you so crazy that you’ll help me keep Dick’s open so he has a place to go in the mornings?” I ask Mandy.

Mandy shakes her head. “My husband has been diagnosed with clinical depression. His medication and therapy help, but he needs to get out of the house, have hobbies, see his friends, feel like he’s a part of a group. Going to Dick’s is good for him.”

Well, damn. Fine. Dick’s stays open.

Closing it down was probably extreme anyway. But it was supposed to just be a bar. Now it’s…something else. I’m not entirely sure I understand all of it, but I’ll deal with it. Like I always do. Emerald, Ohio, can’t be more of a handful than the Cara royal family.

Probably.

“But Ben does drive me crazy enough that I’ll help you,” Ada says, unapologetically. “I find him charming and interesting even after forty-two years together which means he’s very distracting when he’s around. So he needs to be out of the house when I’m trying to get work done.”

I arch both brows. Did she just tell me that she can’t keep her hands off her husband when he’s in the house with her?

She gives me a wink. “Yes, I mean that just how it sounds.”

I laugh. “Fine. I’ll keep it open.”

“Good boy,” Cecelia says.

“As if I really had a choice.”

The three women smile. We all know the truth.

“I guess I better get these cinnamon rolls down to the bar. We wouldn’t want Ben and Will to decide they miss their lovely wives.”

“Definitely not,” Ada agrees, starting for the porch steps.

“Be sure you go in the back door,” Mandy says as she turns to leave. “Don’t want the guys to see you coming in with them.”

“And do not send any of them home before two p.m.!” Ada calls from the passenger side of the car they all rode over in.

I simply lift my hand and wave as they pull out of the driveway.

So, this is what it feels like to be ordered around.

It’s annoying. I’m not sure how Cian’s put up with me doing it to him all this time.