The Cowboy and the Princess (10 page)

Annie didn’t know what to think about Echo’s theory. She thought perhaps loving each other equally was the real way to go, but she had no experience with love, could not trust her own opinion on that score.

Brady rolled away, his back thumped against the wall of the trailer as he got as far away from her as he could get. “Don’t feel bad about this. I’m not rejecting you, just the situation.”

What a truckload of cattle manure. Of course he was rejecting her. He did not want to have to deal with the burden of her virginity. He was probably afraid that if he made love to her she would imprint on him like a baby duckling and follow him around everywhere. Utter nonsense.

She sat up in bed, leafed through the covers to find her peignoir. “You, sir,” she said, “are not worthy of the gift of my virginity.”

“That’s exactly what I was trying to tell you.” He looked at her as if searching for a truth he would not find.

Annie felt the same way. Led on. Unsatisfied. “I thought you were chivalrous and kind and understanding and yet you demean me by saying I have to live by one set of rules while you, a man, are honored to live by another.”

He looked confused, his cocoa-colored eyebrows pulling into a frown. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about the way men think they know everything. Contrary to masculine opinion, having a penis dangling from between your legs does not give you the key to the universe.”

“Whew.” Brady blew out his breath. “Clearly, I stepped in something here.”

“Yes, yes you did.” She found her nightgown, tugged it over her head, jammed her fingers through the flimsy armholes, and cinched the thin lacy belt tight around her waist.

Brady’s eyes were glued to her breast the entire time.

“You want me,” she said.

“I do,” he admitted.

“But you won’t take me.”

“Nope.” He shook his head.

“This is unfair.”

“Maybe, but I hate to see you sell yourself short.”

“I don’t understand. What does that mean?”

“You could do so much better than me.”

“Now who is selling himself short?”

“Annie.” He reached out a hand but she shied away. He dropped his hand. “Having sex with me would mean something to you.”

“Now who is overestimating himself?”

“I meant psychologically. It’s your first time. Your first time should be special. Even if you don’t mean to, you’re going to have feelings for me if we make love because I would be your first lover.”

She huffed out a breath, folded her arms over her chest. “My, you do think highly of yourself.”

“It’s not me. It’s the situation. If you gave me your virginity, you’ll start to think it means something.”

“No I will not.”

“You can’t force yourself to change your feelings.”

“You do not know me at all, or what I am capable of feeling.”

“That’s true and another reason why we shouldn’t sleep together. We’re strangers.”

“That did not bother you before.”

”I don’t have long-term potential.”

“I know. That is precisely the point.” She crossed her arms, blocking his view of her breasts. “I do not want long-term potential.”

“You don’t?”

“I don’t. I can tell you are a ne’er-do-well.”

“I wouldn’t go so far as to say ne’er-do-well. I’ve done well. I do well,” he protested. “I’m a well doer.”

“I do not mind that you are a ne’er-do-well. That’s why you’re perfect.”

“Stop saying that word.”

“What word? Perfect?”

“Ne’er-do-well. Who says words like that?”

“I do not want long-term potential. I want the opposite of long-term. I want someone with the potential of a nanosecond. I want a man who pulls his home behind him. This is a man who does not put down roots. Roots are for stumbling over. With you, there will be no stumbles.”

A variety of emotions moved across his face—surprise, disbelief, confusion, and then, finally, effrontery. “You want to use me for sex?”

She smiled. “Is that a bad thing?”

“I—” He shut his mouth, opened it again. “You . . .”

“Yes?”

“ . . . are a very odd woman.”

“Perhaps that is true.”

“I don’t know your situation or why you were hitchhiking on the side of the road in the driving rain or why you’re offering up your virginity to the first guy who gives you a ride, but there’s some kind of twisted psychology going on behind those gray-blue eyes and I’m not going to be a part of it.”

She shrugged. “If that is how you feel. It is your loss.”

“It is. I can accept that.” Brady grabbed up a pillow. “Could you scootch over please? I’m going to sleep on the floor.”

Annie swung her legs aside so he could climb down from the bunk, frustration and disappointment surging through her. For one brief moment she thought every wonderful dream she ever dreamed about making love to a cowboy and exploring Texas was about to come true.

Do not give up so easily. You have six weeks. There are more cowboys in the rodeo than this one.

It was true. She knew it. She was in Texas. There was bound to be a cowboy on every corner. Yet she could not help thinking that this cowboy was the one she had been waiting for.

Forget him. Just leave. Get on the road, stick out your thumb, and take off.

The shy, go-with-the-flow part of her wanted to run away, to just forget all about this one and go find a new cowboy to have an adventure with. But the stubborn princess part of her, the brave, lively part that had gotten her this far, balked.

She was tired of letting men tell her what to do. Tired of letting other people dictate the path she should take in life. She was tired of being a reactionary. It was time to become an activist, to take a role in creating her own future. At least, that is, for the next six weeks. She didn’t have to leave Jubilee just because Brady was here. She wasn’t going to allow herself to be chased away by some virgin-phobic horse-whispering cowboy.

This was the right place and she was staying put whether Brady Talmadge liked it or not.

Chapter Six

You might be a princess if . . . you’re involved in a prearranged marriage.

A
nnie dreamed that Teddy had come looking for her like Lord Farquaad in
Shrek
and brought the national band of Dubinstein along with him in his search. The orchestra kept playing “Bang the Drum Slowly,” but she couldn’t figure out how the Dubinstein band knew the Emmylou Harris song.

Then she realized the banging was coming from outside her head. She opened her eyes and stared up at the ceiling, blinking. Where was she?

The banging noise continued.

Who and what was that? She sat up, clutching the sheet to her breasts, and remembered everything that had happened—or rather had not happened—the night before. Her cheeks heated. She’d thrown herself at Brady and he’d rejected her because she was a virgin.

“Rousting you, Talmadge,” came a masculine voice from outside the trailer. “It’s almost six
A.M.
Get your lazy ass up.”

Lady Astor sprang from her spot on the small sofa and barked sharply. From the back of the trailer, Trampas joined in, letting loose with a loud
woof, woof, woof
.

Annie looked down to see Brady struggling to his feet. His hair was mussed, his eyes narrowed with sleep. He wore nothing but his underwear. His chest was gloriously muscled. Her gaze hooked on that broad expanse of skin and she could not look away, but then he turned and she got a good view of his bare back.

Annie sucked in her breath and plastered a hand over her mouth to keep from crying out. There were numerous old scars running the length of his back as if he’d been repeatedly beaten with something. What in God’s name had happened to him? She fisted her hands. She wanted to assault the person who had assaulted him.

Yawning, Brady grabbed at his T-shirt from the floor and shimmied into a pair of blue jeans as the banging continued. He had not noticed she’d seen his savaged back. Lady Astor and Trampas kept up their racket.

“Talmadge!”

“Who is that man and why is he intent on waking the dead?” Annie asked.

“That’s my friend Joe. Get dressed and come out to meet him,” Brady said, doing up the buttons on the cowboy shirt he threw on over the tee and headed outside.

After the door slammed shut behind him, Annie heard the sound of males greeting each other in that good-natured, insulting way they had.

“What the hell happened to you, Talmadge? You look like hammered dog crap.”

“Hey, at least I’ve got an excuse. I got in late. Didn’t get much sleep.”

“What’s with the slice and dice on your face?”

“This? You should see the other guy.”

Annie pulled back the curtain of the tiny window and peered out into the sleepy blue-tinged dawn to see Brady playfully punching the upper arm of a man about his own size and age. The man wore a black cowboy hat and he punched back. They exchanged a flurry of feigned blows. Annie rolled her eyes. Men. Apparently, they were the same the world over, little more than overgrown boys.

She scrambled from the bed, quickly got dressed, brushed her teeth, and ran a hand through her spiky hair. The haircut felt strange, alien. She put on the cowboy boots Echo had bought for her, leashed Lady Astor, and went outside.

“Whoa!” the man exclaimed when Annie emerged from the trailer. “You didn’t tell me you had company.”

Brady looked chagrined, waved a hand. “Joe Daniels, Annie Coste. Annie, Joe.”

“Delighted to meet you,” she said.

One glance told her Joe Daniels liked Wrangler jeans, bull riding, sunshine, horses, and his friend Brady. He doffed his cowboy hat and bowed in an exaggerated gesture.

He knows I am a princess!
For one brief second panic flooded her. Then she realized it was simply Joe’s teasing, gentlemanly way. He wasn’t bowing to her royalty. He would have bowed to any woman popping out of Brady’s trailer.

“Mornin’, Annie. I’m sorry for pounding on the trailer. I had no idea there was a lady inside,” Joe apologized.

“It is all right.”

Lady Astor, not one to be ignored, was tugging on the leash trying to get to Joe. The bold little Yorkie loved most everyone, especially the attention they bestowed on her.

“Why, aren’t you cute.” Joe squatted to scratch Lady Astor behind the ears. She preened like the prima donna she was, turning in circles just to impress him. “What does Trampas think about you?”

“He’s stone cold in love,” Brady said, “but Lady Astor hates his shaggy self.”

“Lady Astor?” Joe smiled.

“Believe me, that daring bit of fluff thinks she’s royalty.”

Joe straightened. “Got up this morning and saw your trailer. Mariah thought you might want a home-cooked breakfast so I’m inviting you over.”

“Is Mariah doing the cooking?” Brady asked suspiciously.

“Don’t worry.” Joe chuckled. “Your stomach is safe. Since we had Jonah we’ve hired a housekeeper who does all the cooking. Mariah has enough on her plate with the baby and the weddings. She’s shorthanded at the shop.”

“Joe’s wife, Mariah, is a wedding planner,” Brady explained to Annie. “She runs her own business here in Jubilee.”

“Is she seeking for someone to hire?” Annie blurted, not even knowing she was going to say it. She wanted a job. Part of the adventure of living like a normal person was having a regular job to go to, open a bank account, rent her own place, do all the things regular people did. “I need a job.”

She cringed at her own words. She sounded so desperate.

You are settling too soon. You took the first ride anyone offered. You attempted to seduce the first cowboy you met. Now you are trying to claim the first job opportunity that comes along. Do not let your eagerness lead you to the wrong place with the wrong people
.

But Joe looked like a nice man. He had a big, welcoming smile and a firm handshake. His arms were burdened with muscles, his jaw clean-shaven. If his wife was half as nice as he was, Annie would love working for her.

“Do you have experience in wedding planning?” Joe asked.

“No, but I am a willing learner.”

Joe plastered a palm to the nape of his neck and Annie realized she’d put him on the spot. “I’ll let you talk to Mariah about that. Come on up to the house. You can meet her. Have some breakfast.”

“We’ll be there as soon as we give the dogs their breakfast,” Brady said.

Joe nodded and headed back to the big ranch-style house. Annie hadn’t been able to see it in the dark last night, but in soft colors of dawn, their house was something right out of a cowboy movie. Constructed from limestone and accented with wood finishes, the sprawling hacienda had a clay tile roof, an elevated stone porch, and a wide veranda with hanging baskets filled with colorful plants.

Her blood stirred. Yes. This was it. There was nothing wrong with taking advantage of whatever opportunity came her way. Here she was, at the home of a real-life cowboy. There were a lot of small buildings scattered around—sheds and barns and a bunkhouse and a corral. Curly-haired red and white cattle grazed in a nearby pasture. The air smelled fresh and clean. The ground was still soggy from the heavy rains.

Without speaking to each other, she and Brady let Lady Astor and Trampas do their morning business, fed them, and then put them back up inside the trailer. She cast several sidelong looks Brady’s way, but she said nothing. She did not want to stir up fresh conversation about her virginity,

They walked to Joe’s house for breakfast. Annie wanted to tuck the Yorkie in her satchel and take her inside with her, but she didn’t know how Mariah Daniels felt about animals in the house. She was trying to be more considerate of what other people thought. When you were a princess, people did what you wanted. It was easy to become self-centered like her stepmother, Queen Birgit. It was a fate Annie was determined to avoid.

After their walk through the field, mud clung to their boots. They scraped them on the boot scraper provided on the front porch for that service. Once their boots were clean of mud, Brady rang the doorbell.

A petite young blond woman, a good three inches shorter than Annie’s own five-foot-four stature, met them at the door with a grinning baby cocked on her hip, a teething biscuit clutched in his hand. She wore a pair of faded blue jeans and a red scoop neck shirt and she was barefoot. Her toenails were painted a pearlescent peach.

Annie studied the woman with her blond hair pulled back into a ponytail and felt an immediate twinge of regret. She missed her own long blond hair, but knew she had no choice but to whack it off and change the color if she wanted to stay incognito. She could not run the risk of having anyone recognize her as the Princess of Monesta.

“Good morning, good morning, it’s great to meet you.” She shook Annie’s hand, ushered them inside. “I’m Mariah.”

“Annie.” She smiled, feeling shy.

“And you, cowboy.” Mariah went up on tiptoes to wrap her free arm around Brady’s neck and tugged his head down to kiss him on the cheek. “Long time no see, stranger.”

“I’ve been busy.”

“You could have called. There’s this modern invention called a telephone. Ever heard of it?”

Sheepishly, Brady ducked his head. “I know, I know.”

“C’mon in. Ruby is making breakfast.” Mariah guided them through the house.

They passed through the living room. The television was tuned to early morning news. Annie barely glanced at the screen, but startled and took a second glance when she realized it was her face flashed on the screen. Instantly, she stilled. Her disappearance had already made the news? She had not expected this. Would she be recognized here?

“Princess Annabella of Monesta was taken ill last night,” the newscaster said, “at the home of former president Glover. She was in town for the wedding of his daughter, Echo. It’s reported the princess has mononucleosis and has been advised against flying home in her delicate condition. She will recover at the president’s compound. In other news . . .”

“The poor princess,” Mariah said. “Can you imagine? Falling ill in a foreign country. She’s got to be feeling homesick.”

No, that wasn’t what she was feeling. Not at all.

Chandler and Strawn were handling this exactly as Princess Ann’s handlers dealt with
her
escapades in
Roman Holiday.
By denying she’d run away and blaming her absence on illness. Annie imagined her bodyguards had lied to her father as well. If they told him they’d lost the princess, they’d immediately lose their jobs.

“Annie?” Mariah touched her shoulder. “This way.”

She took a breath and followed her hostess into the kitchen. Saffron light poured through the French doors casting the ginger terrazzo tile in a cheery, good morning glow. Wonderful smells coaxed them to the table—garlic, onions, bacon, and coffee. Annie’s stomach rumbled. Many hours had passed since the truck stop chili and banana cream pie.

“Sit, sit,” Mariah invited as she fastened the baby into his high chair and took a seat beside her son.

Joe moved behind his wife’s chair and paused to drop a kiss on the top of her head. Mariah glanced up at him, a happy smile on her face.

The housekeeper brought food to the table. Platters of meat, eggs, and pancakes. Annie’s mouth watered.

“Let’s say grace,” Joe said.

Annie was confused for a moment until everyone bowed their heads and joined hands, Ruby included. Oh, they were offering a prayer of thanksgiving for their food.

Brady reached for Annie’s hand on one side, Mariah’s on the other. As Joe said the blessing an unexpected happiness curled inside her. This was what it was like to be a normal person. Friends and family sitting around the table, holding hands in thanksgiving for the food before them.

Usually, Annie took breakfast alone in her room, brought up the stairs for her by one of the servants. She ate at her desk while flipping through a book or surfing the Internet or staring out the window at the people walking along the seawall.

Her father and stepmother shared their meals in their apartment on the opposite side of the palace on the days, that is, when they were even in Monesta. They spent a lot of time in Birgit’s home country of Denmark. A nanny ate with Annie’s nine-year-old half brother, Prince Henry, in his wing of the palace. Annie could go days without running into her father, stepmother, or brother.

Once she got to Dubinstein her life would be much the same. She and Teddy would not be sharing a bedroom. She would have her own quarters and Teddy would visit her boudoir on nights his libido drove him there. Annie opened her eyes even though Joe wasn’t finished with the blessing and looked around at the little group. Sadness pulled her shoulders into a slump and longing formed a knot of self-pity in the bottom of her stomach. She could never have something like this long-term.

Just be thankful you have it now. For this sweet moment. Savor it to remember later.

“Amen,” Joe said.

“Amen,” everyone else echoed, and Annie joined in.

Baby Jonah cooed and banged on the tray of his high chair with a spoon. Little yellow ducks paraded across his bib. Thin wisps of light brown hair stuck up on his head and he had big eyes like his mother.

“Scrambled eggs coming right up, little mister,” his mother said, and put a small bowl of eggs in front of him.

Jonah immediately grabbed a fistful in both hands.

“Just like his daddy,” Mariah said with love in her voice as she caught her husband’s eye. “Grabbing for life full throttle.”

Joe grinned at his wife. Mariah silently mouthed,
I love you
.

Annie felt as if she and Brady were intruding on a private moment. Then it occurred to her that she would never have this kind of intimacy with Teddy. Pushing aside the unsettling thought, she dipped her head and concentrated on the food.

“Little Bit,” Joe said.

“Uh-huh,” Mariah answered, spooning applesauce into their son’s mouth. Jonah cooed, spewing applesauce on his bib, and then laughed as if it was the funniest thing ever.

“Annie here is looking for a job. I told her you were shorthanded at the shop.” Joe poured maple syrup over his waffles.