The Sharpest Kiss by Elizabeth Myles (the false prince .txt) 📕

nervous laugh. “Just think about it and let me know tomorrow, okay? Take care. Also, you’re amazing. Did I mention that already? ’Cause you are.” Click.

There. He had done it. He dropped the phone in his pocket and turned toward the bartender, who was eyeing him with undisguised interest. What? As if he’d never seen a guy make a total drunken fool of himself before? It probably happened in here every single night.

“Another Saint Arnold Endeavour,” Aaron said, holding up his hand and trying his best to act cool. Not at all hammered. “And could you close out my tab, please?”

The bartender slid his fresh beer toward him, along with a slip of register paper. Aaron signed the receipt, scratching in a hefty tip, and the bartender’s expression eased up, the judgmental hardness disappearing from his eyes.

“Thank you kindly, sir. Call you a cab?”

Aaron held up his phone. “Uber. But thanks, anyway.”

The barkeep loped off to help another customer, and Aaron took a big gulp of his Endeavour, letting the bitter hops light up his taste buds. As he lowered the glass, he caught sight of himself in the greasy mirror behind the bar and saw the thick beer mustache, like a caterpillar of foam, wriggling across his upper lip. He was so blitzed, he almost laughed out loud at himself. He reached for a napkin, but a hand landed on his forearm and startled him.

“Wha-?” He looked down in surprise. He hadn’t seen anyone standing beside him in the mirror. But there it was, a dainty hand resting on his sleeve. Looking up, he saw the little hand belonged to the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his life, with skin white as fresh snow and lips red as ripe strawberries. The humidity in the air was turning everyone else’s hair into a mushroom cloud, but her tresses lay smooth as gold silk along her shoulders. Her eyes shone like opals, seeming to contain a kaleidoscope of colors. They were so big. And mesmerizing.

“Aaron?” she said, and her voice was like music.

“Aaron?” he repeated blankly. Who was Aaron? Was she talking about him? Suddenly, he couldn’t remember his own name anymore. Or much of anything else, for that matter. What had he just been thinking about before this happened? Some other girl? Well, that seemed ridiculous now, didn’t it? There was no one in the world for him, would never be anyone else, but this magnificent creature standing before him tonight in the middle of the Red Palm.

She was a goddess, and he would do anything she asked.

Anything.

“Come with me,” she said, and tugged him off the barstool.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, and staggered after her, out into the pouring rain.

Chapter Three

Dara curled her fingers in the back of Jason’s t-shirt, clinging to him as he maneuvered a swath for her through the hot, sweaty nightclub. The place was dark as a cave except for the multi-colored strobe lights blinking above the stage, and as she hurried along, she had to keep glancing down to make sure she wasn’t stepping on anyone. The band played on behind them, and Dara was grateful for her earplugs. Even this far from the amps, she could feel the music, raucous and pounding, reverberating through her bones.

When they joined the line for the bar, Jason trailed his fingers up Dara’s neck and into her curly auburn hair, brushing aside a few sweaty strands that’d stuck to her face. “You doing alright?” he yelled above the noise.

She nodded, flashing him a thumbs-up and a shy smile. He smiled back, his dark green eyes lighting up behind his glasses, and fireworks erupted in her chest. He had thick brown hair and a crooked grin, and despite being lanky and a little nerdy, he was so handsome. All the girls at the college registration desk where she’d done a work-study program her freshman year had thought so. They would smile and flirt and make fools of themselves whenever Jason came down from the IT department to fix the latest bug with their out-of-date computer system. Dara hardly ever spoke to him but, like the rest of her co-workers, she’d harbored a huge crush on the charming technician. She’d just never dreamed he might feel the same way about her.

She’d been stunned when he’d asked her out. It’d happened on a Friday afternoon, right after he’d, once again, swooped in like a knight in a poly-blend polo shirt to solve some glitch or other with her database. Not only had he fixed the computer, he’d stuck around for a few minutes and helped her face down the line of tetchy students now snaking around the registration desk, grumbling at Dara about how freaking long all of this was taking. Jason, using a calm but authoritative voice, had basically told them all to shut their traps and wait their turn. And they had done it. And then he’d come back at the end of Dara’s shift to check on her again—and to ask her to a movie.

Later, he would tell her he had always liked her, that he had been intrigued by the fact she never said much. He’d thought she was “mysterious.” Ha.

The first time he had kissed her, Dara had known she was hopelessly in love. Luckily for her, it had been mutual. He’d proposed within weeks and married her within months. Now she’d been Mrs. Jason Donovan for almost ten years, but the sight of his smile still made her weak in the knees. When he touched her, electricity charged through her veins, making her feel alive. And when he kissed her—like he was leaning down to do right now—she realized all over again just how head over heels for this amazing man she still was, and how lucky to be his wife.

The line snaked forward, and soon they were at the head of it. Jason bought two beers, handed one to Dara, and led her back through