A Kiss and a Cuddle Read Online Free PDF Page A

know that your bodyguards refer to you as Your Royal Heir ?”
I asked sharply, looking around for his bodyguards.  Just as I thought, there
were two bald men sitting on a bench down the road, wearing jeans and t-shirts. 
They were trying to act nonchalantly, but they kept a keen eye on Rex.
    “Ah,
yes, well I can get carried away with titles, but my name, Rex, does mean
‘King’.  So you know, I am practically royalty.  Also, I need to have
bodyguards.  You see, when you are in a position such as I am in, you have to…”
he started to speak until I cut him off.
    “Oh,
I know what position you are in.  I know who you are; you don’t need to brag. 
Actually, I know a bit too much about you, based on your escapades in L.A. a
little while ago,” I said looking him up and down with my eyebrows raised.  I
remembered the online images of Rex being stark naked in his L.A. hotel room a
few years ago.  It was why I was surprised to see that the Byron Family let Rex
visit the USA again with minimal supervision.
    “Ah,
I am glad you follow me in the media.  I am flattered,” he smirked and squinted
his eyes as he gazed up to the sun, trying to strike a pose, I assumed.
“Anyway, I wanted to come say hi and to give you this.”  He revealed a rose
from behind his back and pushed it towards my face.  “A rose for a Rose.”
    I
scoffed and put the rose on the table.  “Do you know how many guys have tried
to use that line?” I asked bluntly.
    “But
I am not just any guy…”
    “Oh
please, spare me the royal introduction.  I know you, and you have
seemed to mistaken your own shadow for a god, but you are just an heir.  You
didn’t even work for your money.  You just live off of your dad’s artistic
talent.  I will bet you don’t even like art.  Is it too abstract and confusing
for you?”
    “I
will have you know that I got a B in Fine Art at college.”
    “Which
specialty in Fine Art?”
    “In
Visual Art, but you can also tell I am skilled at the fine art of flirting,” he
announced proudly.
    “Oh
gosh, aren’t you proud of yourself for making a joke that not only hints at
your womanizing ways, but also makes me gag at the same time.”
    “You
are a feisty one, aren’t you?” he asked playfully.  It seemed like he was
enjoying my rude comments.  How could you make someone go away when they loved
being insulted?  He jumped the small patio fence to take a seat next to me.  He
was actually physically bigger than I always imagined him.  He was tall with
broad shoulders and a solid body.
    I
hastily jumped out of my chair and grabbed my bag.  I was not about to sit with
him over a pleasant cup of tea.  “I was just leaving.  Next time you want to be
the center of attention, don’t come to my gig,” I said coolly, but I couldn’t
completely mask the pain in my voice.
    “Rose,
I am sorry.  I didn’t know about your gig,” he pleaded.  “Will you meet me here
tomorrow at 2PM, so I can make it up to you?”
    I
was already walking away from the table as I replied, “Sorry, no.”  I exited
the café and didn’t look back.
    I
had no idea what type of games he was trying to play with me, but I would not
be involved in his next American scandal.

SEVEN
    I
was six years old when my father left.  I don’t remember much about him, but I
do remember the day that he left with painful detail. 
    I
was sitting on the floor of our living room in our house in San Antonio.  It
was February, so I was inside playing with my favorite pony figurines after
school.  My mom was sitting on the couch next to me, watching TV.  It was a
normal day, except it was Valentine’s Day.  For me, that meant that I made half
a dozen heart-shaped crafts at school.  For my parents, it meant something
else.
    As
usual, around 5PM, we heard the truck engine in the driveway roar and shut
off.  My mom stood up and walked over to meet him at the door. 
    “Come
on, sweetie, Dad is home!” my mother said, and I ran