“Well, since you’re still alive, how about grabbing a bite to eat?”she asked, tilting her head innocently.“I usually go for something light and healthy after class.”
“Burgers,” he said flatly, already steering her toward the door.
“Burgers?”She laughed.“After yoga?Don’t you feel like a salad or something clean?”
He stopped, turned, and gave her the kind of look that could silence a parliament.“Burgers.And beer.We needproteinafter that torture session.And fries—lots of fries.The salty kind that make your cardiologist cry.”
Her lips twitched.“Fine.Burgers it is.But if I can’t move tomorrow, I’m blaming you.”
“Blame away,” he said smoothly, holding the door for her.
Ten minutes later, they were tucked into the back of a cozy pub, the warm lighting and dark wood making it feel miles away from the incense-and-chime nightmare he’d just endured.
“Can I get you something to drink?”the waitress asked, her blond ponytail bouncing.
“Heffeweizen.Or whatever’s on tap,” Rylan said without hesitation, then glanced at Natalie.
“I’ll have a glass of white wine, please,” she told the waitress.
The waitress nodded, smiling, and walked away.
“She seems sweet,” Natalie said casually, watching her go.
Rylan’s eyes never left Natalie.“Not as sweet as you.”
Her cheeks warmed, but she rolled her eyes.“Wow.Straight out of the ‘First-Date Compliments for Dummies’ handbook.”
He grinned.“Maybe.Or maybe I just noticed you’ve been making it hard to think about anything else all night.”
She tilted her head, a teasing glint in her eyes.“You realize that line would soundwayless flattering if I believed you were actually distracted during corpse pose.”
He smirked.“Trust me, I was plenty distracted during corpse pose.Just not in the way the instructor intended.”
Her lips twitched like she was trying not to laugh.“You’re impossible.”
“True,” he agreed easily, leaning back in his chair like he had all the time in the world.“But admit it—you like impossible.”
For the next two hours, they bantered like pros.She lobbed dry sarcasm; he volleyed it back with shameless flirtation.They argued over music genres, debated the superiority of fries versus onion rings, and laughed until their drinks went warm.
Natalie was a contradiction—sharp wit wrapped in an unexpected, vulnerable warmth.Every time she smiled, he wanted to push her just far enough to see what would happen if she stopped pulling back.
And then there was the matter of her yoga top.Every time she leaned forward, the neckline dipped just enough to test his self-control.It was like a slow, deliberate form of torture, and he couldn’t decide if she was doing it on purpose.
When they finally left the pub, Rylan walked her to her car, not ready for the night to end.She turned to him, and for a heartbeat, something flickered in her expression—regret, maybe longing, maybe both.
“Thanks for dinner,” she said softly.
“Anytime.”
His hands itched to pull her close, to erase the space between them.Instead, he took a deliberate step back, his fists curling at his sides.
If this was what friendship looked like, it was going to kill him.
Chapter 20
“Why are you avoiding us?”Zayn, Crown Prince of Lativa, demanded as he barged into Rylan’s house the next morning.He didn’t knock.He never knocked.
Right behind him was Prince Saif—another cousin, another uninvited guest—who took a slow, assessing glance around until his eyes found Rylan.
