The Swedish Prince (Royal Romance 1)

There’s something about this man’s shape, maybe even his vibe, that calls out to me. Impossibly broad shoulders. Long legs tucked under the stool. Only the nape of his tanned neck exposed along with his shiny, golden-brown hair, his face buried by his arms. He’s a big guy, a guy that’s not from here, well over six feet tall and…

Oh my god.

“Oh my god, I think that’s him.”

“What?” Annette asks.

I stare at her with my mouth agape, noting the look of suspicion on her face. “I think that’s him.”

“Him who?”

“The guy. The naked guy.”

“Mr. Magic Dick?”

I roll my eyes and lower my voice, my body somehow lowering against the table as I speak. “I didn’t say it was magic, just that it was large.”

“Same thing, sweetheart,” she says.

I look back at the guy passed out at the bar and this time it’s all clicking into place. This is him. I’ve seen him naked, I can recognize him clothed.

What the hell is going on? What are the odds that I’d see him here, tonight?

Well, actually they’re pretty good since Tehachapi doesn’t have a thriving nightlife scene.

“You’d think a man of his size, and I mean his height, get your mind out of the gutter, would be able to handle his liquor a little better,” Annette comments and as she does so, my eyes drift up to meet the bartender’s. She’s someone I went to school with, two years younger, and though I don’t really know her she’s looking at me pleadingly, like she needs help.

I should probably stay in my seat but something is compelling me to check out this situation a little closer. Probably because this stranger has made his second appearance in my life and once again it’s in a state of vulnerability. Not that he seemed overly vulnerable when I saw him naked, actually it was more like he was owning the moment.

Yet, here, I feel like I need to do something, like I’m the one who’s responsible for his ass. His very firm, gorgeous ass.

“I’ll get you another beer,” I tell Annette as I get up.

“Uh uh,” she says. “Make sure you get yourself something too.”

I’m driving so one glass of wine is my limit.

I make my way over to the bar, smiling at the bartender. “Could I get another Bud Light?” I ask her before sneaking a glance at the guy. Now that I’m closer to him, I feel a rush of energy run through me, a feeling that takes me by surprise, like every nerve in my body is alive and dancing.

“Sure,” the bartender says then glances at him warily. “Do you know him?”

“He’s staying at the hotel I work at, that’s all I know,” I admit. Well, that and the fact that he looks fantastic naked. “I’m guessing he had too much to drink?”

She shrugs as she gets me the beer. “I guess so. When he came in here he seemed fine. Ordered a glass of vodka on the rocks and that was it. Next thing I knew he was just fucking passing out right there. I’ve shaken him a few times but he just groans.”

Hmmm. A little concerning. “He didn’t talk to you about anything?”

“No,” she says, sliding the beer my way. “Asked for the drink and that’s all. Definitely not from here though. Has an accent. Scandinavian for sure, which makes it weirder. I spent a few weeks in Sweden and Norway last year and let me tell you, those people can handle their liquor. This guy, not so much.”

A customer appears at the other end of the bar, getting the bartender’s attention and leaving me alone with the drunken Scandinavian mystery man.

I should get this beer right back to Annette who is watching me expectantly, but I take a few extra seconds to take him in.

My eyes slowly absorb all his details. The gleam of his hair, bronze and gold intertwined with the rich brown, just long enough that you could give it a good tug, to slide like silk through my fingers. The nape of his neck, lightly tanned with fine blonde hairs, a spot that seems achingly exposed and secretly sensitive, that disappears into the collar of his black leather jacket. It fits his broad shoulders like a glove, the leather seeming both soft and well-crafted. As my attention drifts down to his dark gray jeans and boots, I’m realizing how well-tailored and expensive all of his clothes look. He doesn’t seem like the type of person who would stay at La Quinta for fun. Someone better suited for the fancier hotels and places. A businessman.

But what business could he be in?

Porn. With that dick, it’s gotta be porn.

“Hey,” I find myself saying softly, reaching over to nudge his arm with my elbow. A low rumble emits from him but he doesn’t move. “So I’m the girl who walked in on you naked earlier today and I just wanted to apologize. It wasn’t intentional.” I pause, aware that there’s a chance he might be listening, also aware that Annette is still staring at me questioningly from across the bar. “To clarify, this happened at the hotel. I was the maid and you were, well, you were walking out of the bathroom totally naked. I guess you didn’t hear me. Why were you listening to music anyway? What music was so important that you had to stick in your earbuds and strut around like you were at home? Speaking of home, where the hell are you from?”

I stare at him for a few more minutes, watching his back rise and fall. Finally, he makes a breathless sound and he moves his head back and forth until it settles with the side of his face tilted toward me, eyes closed.

I’m struck by the intimacy of the moment, dazzled by how gorgeous he looks up close. It was hard to focus on his face earlier for obvious reasons, but now I feel like I can really drink him in.

Though his jaw is strong and wide and dusted with stubble, there’s something almost innocent about the way he looks. Maybe everyone looks this sweet when they sleep but his eyelashes are definitely enviable and his full lips seem curled into a soft smile, contrasting with the hollowness beneath his sharp cheekbones.

Even fully clothed and passed out drunk on a bar, he’s still the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen.

“Guess I’ll be calling the cops later,” the bartender says with a sigh, breaking the spell as she comes over to me and stares at the sleeping giant with disdain.

“Why? What did he do?”

She folds her arms and gives me the are you kidding me look. Suddenly I know what April is going to look like when she’s older. “The guy is huge. And I might be tougher than I look but I’m not about to drag his ass out of here by myself at the end of the night.”

“But he hasn’t done anything wrong,” I say feebly.

“If you want to take care of him, be my guest,” she says before turning her back to me.

I take another glance of him and head back over to Annette.

“What. On Earth. Were you doing?” she asks as she snatches the beer out of my hand. “That wasn’t just getting me a beer.”

I shrug and slide into my seat across from her. “I don’t know, I wanted to see what the situation was.”

“And?”

“And I don’t know. He’s drunk.”

“I can see that.”

“But something doesn’t fit here,” I tell her, jerking my chin toward him. “The bartender says he had one drink and it was lights out. Plus, she says he’s all Scandinavian and shit and probably drinks vodka for breakfast. Then there’s the fact that he’s rich.”

She cocks her penciled brow at me. This has her attention. “Rich?”

“His clothes are expensive, he’s well-put together.”

“And so what’s a rich man doing in Tehachapi?”

I shrug. That part has me stumped. “I don’t know. Passing through maybe.”

“And Scandinavian?”

“That’s what the bartender thinks. Swedish or Danish or something.”

She purses her lips and looks me over.

“What?” I ask, automatically feeling defensive over the way she’s looking at me.

“You’re taking far too much interest in this person.”

I frown. “Earlier you were talking about his magic dick.”

“I didn’t expect to see him here. Honey, I’m just looking out for you. Don’t get involved with someone staying at your hotel.”

“How am I involved?” I ask incredulously, throwing my arms out for equal measure. “I’m a concerned citizen.”

She shrugs and settles back in her seat, the bottle at her mouth. “He’s none of your concern and you’ve always been one to go out of your way to help people but honestly, you’re already spreading yourself too thin.” She pauses and then says. “Did I tell you what Hank said?”

Hank is her soon-to-be ex-husband and he’s never not saying or doing something. She launches into the latest tirade which I make myself listen to. I know she needs a friend and an ear as much as I do.

But my eyes are almost always finding their way back to the drunk foreign dude. I find myself wondering how he got so drunk–someone that tall and well-built isn’t a lightweight–then why he’s here in Tehachapi with his Scandinavian accent and pricey clothes. And, yeah, my mind keeps bringing up the image of him naked. Over and over again.

Maybe it’s the sob story or the fact that neither I nor Annette have been out in a while, but she has more beer and I end up having another glass of wine that she so graciously bought for me. By the time we’re ready to go, the bar looks close to closing.

I’d been keeping an eye on the guy all night. He didn’t move at all. Now it looks like he has to and the bartender is shaking him awake while shooting me a worried look, as if it’s also my problem now.

“Can you take him back to the hotel?” she shouts across the room at us as we’re heading to the door. “Or I’ll call the cops to give him a lift.” It almost sounds like she’s threatening me, like the fact that I’d met the guy earlier in the day meant that he was somehow mine.

Annette snorts. “Honey, this ain’t our problem. We don’t know him.”