A Player for A Princess

“Rowan?” He watches me, studying my nonverbal cues.

“No.”

“I know it’s not the ocean. Or the racing. And you love Occitan—it’s just like here.”

“Your mother?”

He exhales a laugh. “That’s pretty clichéd, Zee.”

I shrug and hold my hands out, swaying to the music again. It’s a Bob Marley tune I love. “So sue me.”

“I can handle my mother,” he grins, watching me. “If that’s all that’s worrying you, don’t.”

My eyes narrow. “Isn’t that what men always say about their mothers?”

“How would you know?”

The bartender refills my glass, and I lift out a maraschino cherry by the long, curling stem. “I wouldn’t,” I say before sliding it into my mouth.

He’s quiet again, and I’m still dancing. “I don’t want to wait in vain for your love,” I sing softly.

Cal is back on his stool, and he pulls me between his legs. “We’ve got to get past this.”

Closing my eyes, I listen to the music. “Why?”

“Because I told Ava I wouldn’t come back without you.”

Those words squeeze my chest. I open my eyes and meet his. “How is she? I’ve been too afraid to call her. I don’t know if they’re monitoring her phone or—”

“She’s much better. She’s out of the hospital, and Rowan moved her to the palace. Their engagement is official, and the citizens love her.”

“Of course they do. She’s the perfect princess.” A sad little smile crosses my face. I don’t know why I feel like crying. “She must be in heaven.”

He moves a lock of hair behind my ear. “She misses you.”

I blink up, looking around the ceiling and out at the band. I take a deep breath, trying to calm my emotions. “We’ve never been apart. Not once in our lives.”

He catches my chin. “I love you, Zelda. Come home with me. You’re not helping anyone being so far away.”

“Maybe not, but I’m also not putting anyone in the line of fire.”

The beefy man from the Divi appears carrying a paper sack. “Logan, at last,” Cal says, taking it from him.

Logan hands him the bag, and his blue eyes move to me.

“Mr. Thomas,” I say with a smile.

“Hunt,” he corrects in that low, serious voice, no smile, always on guard.

“But in the Divi you said—”

“I simply dropped my last name.”

Cal lifts out two paper boxes and opens them to reveal fried fish and chips. “Looks like cod,” he says, holding out a French fry.

I take it and pop it in my mouth. “Oh!” I grab my drink and take a quick sip. “They’re blazing hot!”

“Sorry—I just picked them up.” Logan says, reaching out as if to help me.