A Princess in Maine

by Jen McLaughlin

  Chelsea started shaking her head furiously. “No, I wasn’t cutting you out. I wanted to keep you clean until I knew this was a real thing, and then once I—”

  “You should have come to me right away,” Jeremy interrupted, crossing his arms.

  It was taking all his control not to shout.

  All. Of. It.

  She crossed her arms, too, echoing his position. “In my defense, you usually tell me I’m wrong about being in danger…until I have proof. So, this time, I was getting the proof.”

  That, right there? Pissed him the hell off.

  All the times she had come to him, all the times she was convinced that someone was after her, he always believed her, no matter how unlikely it might have seemed. He always gave her the benefit of the doubt, but now she implied that she couldn’t come to him with her worries because he made her feel like they were too crazy?

  Hell, no.

  He went out of his way to make sure she had everything she wanted. When she asked for a pool, he gave her a pool. When she wanted to avoid serious topics, he didn’t bring them up. When she wanted to postpone their honeymoon, he shut up and let her, even though it hurt that she could so easily brush his feelings aside, especially when all he ever did was worry about hers all the damn time.

  But, now, when she was scared someone was after them, when she needed help, she went to someone else…instead of the man she married, the ex–DEA agent with experience shutting down this kind of shit, the one who had sworn to protect her life?

  Yeah. He wasn’t okay with that.

  Just like that, the tenuous hold he had on himself snapped.

  “You can’t be serious.”

  She frowned, but didn’t say a word.

  Typical Chelsea.

  He held his hands up. “You tell me that your ex is back and is breaking into our home—an ex that we know is locked up behind bars—and I rush to the DEA to make sure he is, in fact, still in prison. For you. Because I believed you.” His voice rose with every word, but there was no stopping it. “But when you suspect that someone we already knew was after us once might be after us again, then you need some fucking proof before coming to me, your damn husband?”

  Her face fell and, for a second, he felt guilty for yelling at her, but there was no stopping it now. He’d been keeping a tight hold on his anger about their honeymoon, and that grip had slipped the second she admitted to blackmailing the Sullivan family. Then it positively shattered when she said she assumed he wouldn’t support her when she needed him most.

  “Jeremy. You don’t understand—”

  “You’re absolutely right. I don’t understand.”

  She wrung her hands. “You’ve told me, over and over again, that I’m too cynical. Too hard. Too cautious. So I tried to be less so, for you, and now you’re mad at me?”

  “You weren’t being less cynical. You were hiding it.” He shook his head. “That’s not the same thing, Chels.”

  She came closer, biting down on her lower lip. She looked so impossibly beautiful, kneeling on their bed, with that vulnerable look in her eyes. It was something she normally hid from the world. “I just wanted to be sure before I bothered you with my paranoia. That’s all. As soon as I knew my fears were based in truth, I was going to bring them to you. I swear.”

  “How long have you been holding this threat of yours over their heads?” he asked slowly.

  She hesitated, then finally admitted, “Since the day we gave them the book back. We all took portions of the left wall, since Dad couldn’t remember where it was. I found it, hid it in my shirt, and excused myself to the bathroom. I snapped pictures of the pages, then went back into the room, and then I pretended to find it in the wall.”

  He swallowed a curse. All this time, she’d been threatening a crime family, and she hadn’t told him? What if they’d come after him for it? He wouldn’t have been expecting it.

  He cleared his throat and said, “I’ve always been here for you. Always been in your corner. I thought you were in mine, too, and that we had an equal partnership and marriage. Now I’m not so sure. So tell me. Are you in my corner, Chelsea, or are you too damn busy being in your own?”

  She stared at him, her mouth parted slightly.

  Chelsea was speechless.

  Chapter 19

  I stared at Jeremy, not knowing what to do. He’d never gotten angry at me like this before. I loved Jeremy with all my heart, and normally I could talk him down from whatever he was feeling, but maybe I’d been doing it all wrong. If he felt I wasn’t in his corner…

  Maybe I was just as bad at this marriage thing as my father.

  I had no clue what to do or say right now, and it wasn’t a good feeling. I understood why he was upset with me, but I had been trying to protect him. In an ironic twist of fate, my over-cautiousness had landed me in a pool of trouble with my husband.

  After a long period of silence, I broke it. “I love you, Jeremy.”

  At first, I thought he wasn’t going to say it back. And that made me ready to kick some ass, because no matter how angry we were at one another, those words should never be left unsaid. “I love you, too, Chels, but you should have come to me. Reach out to Paul all you want, but I should have at least been included in the conversation.”

  The pain in his voice knifed through my chest. I’d upset him, and it hurt. Tears blurred my vision, and I had no idea why. I wasn’t a crier. I could count on one hand the amount of times I’d cried. Maybe even half a hand. So why now? Why here? “I’m sorry, Jeremy. I just…” I swallowed, my vision blurring even more, and choked on a sob. “I just wanted to be sure.”

  And then…I lost it.

  Legit lost it.

  His eyes widened with shock as I sobbed into my hand, covering my face. Within seconds, he was on the bed with me, and I was in his arms as he held me close. His mouth drifted over my cheeks, kissing the tears away, and his hands cradled my face tenderly.

  For the first time in days, I felt safe.

  “Chelsea. Shit. Don’t cry. Shh. Don’t cry.”

  I hugged him, holding on tight, refusing to ever let go, and buried my face in his shoulder so he couldn’t see me. No one should ever see me like this. Weak. Lost. Pathetic. “I didn’t mean to cut you out. I was just…I’m sorry. Please don’t leave me.”

  “Leave you?” he asked in horror. “I’d never leave you. You’ve always had me, and always will. You and me together forever.”

  I nodded, swallowing a sob, and kissed him. I pulled him closer, and he gave me what I wanted most in this world. Him.

  Without him, I was lost, like a tiny fish swimming in the middle of a frenzy of sharks, and just as defenseless. His mouth fused with mine, and his hands roamed over my body, chasing away all the fears, doubts, and pain. He kissed away everything that was bad in the world, and left only the good. Only him.

  He broke the kiss off and trailed his mouth down my body, slipping his head between my thighs. I closed my eyes and lifted my hips, needing the release that loving him gave me. The world could go up in flames around us, but as long as he was beside me, I’d be okay. It was a scary thing, giving this much of yourself to another person like that, but if I was going to do it with anyone, then Jeremy was the guy.

  He’d never let me burn.

  His mouth moved over me, and I lost myself in his touch, his tongue, his hands. When I came, stars burst in front of me. And he was there, lifting himself over me, and positioning himself between my thighs. He caught my face, holding it lovingly in his hands as he kissed me, and thrust inside me with one hard, long stroke.

  I cried out, arching my back, and closed my legs around his waist, memorizing the way he felt. His skin was rougher than mine, his thighs were hard against my softer ones, and his body was buried inside mine. He started to pull his hands away, but I caught them. “No. Don’t let go.”

  He lowered his forehead to mine, kissing me sweetly. “I’ll never let go, Chels.”

  And he didn’t. />
  Not once.

  Chapter 20

  Three days.

  That’s how long it had been since our big fight, and my consequential meltdown afterward. I still wasn’t sure why I’d been an unending fountain of tears, but for now, I was chalking it up to the crushing reality that Jeremy and I would always be dealing with hidden dangers. Being an O’Kane came with a legacy. And that legacy was trouble.

  Changing my last name to Holland didn’t change that.

  It never would.

  Paul had confirmed what we already suspected. The Sullivans were watching the inn. Paul’s guy wasn’t sure what they wanted, or when they would strike, but an attack would come.

  Until then, we were on Sullivan watch.

  Jeremy settled into his chair across the main dining room table from me, resting his foot between mine like he always did. Grace sat beside me with a cup of lemon tea, but she’d barely touched it. We’d been too busy going over changes to the seating chart, and we hadn’t finished yet. Seating at a royal wedding was a pain in the ass.

  “What time is Prince Phillip arriving today?” Jeremy asked, picking up his coffee, directing his question toward Grace.

  She shifted next to me. “Five o’clock.”

  “Before he gets here,” I said, “we need to finish the place cards. Speaking of which, Jeremy, will you run into town and grab me some new calligraphy pens? My favorite one died last night. We also have to put some finishing touches on the centerpieces, finalize the seating chart, and go over rehearsal dinner plans. I’d like to finish them before the prince comes.”

  “Of course,” Jeremy said. “You want the one with the fat black handle, right?”

  I nodded as I watched one of the guards through the window. He was doing a perimeter sweep. We’d hired a small security team in addition to the bodyguards to make sure that the Sullivans’ plans wouldn’t affect the wedding, although Paul’s guy thought they weren’t planning anything for a few months.

  Still. You could never be too careful.

  Grace stood. She looked a little pale this morning. Maybe she hadn’t been sleeping well, either. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go finish getting dressed. I’ll meet you back down here in half an hour.”

  “Of course,” I said immediately. “See you then.”

  Grace walked out, and Jeremy and I were alone.

  I sagged against the back of my chair. “Paul still hasn’t called me back. What if something happened to him?”

  He didn’t question my paranoia. “I’ll stop by his place on my way—” The back door in the kitchen opened. The door was always locked and had a very specific sound when it was opened with a key, and this time it sounded completely different. Jeremy lurched to his feet and immediately placed himself between me and the threat. He lifted his shirt, just slightly, and rested his hand on his holstered gun he’d bought after he left the DEA. “Stay back.”

  But I stood, too, grabbing my phone as quickly as he clutched his weapon. I dialed 911, and hovered over the Send button. It was kind of sad that we had this whole “react to danger” routine down. Footsteps came around the corner, slow and steady, and Jeremy cocked his gun.

  My brother came around the corner; I let out a soft breath. “Paul? Why the hell did you just come through the back door?”

  “Well, that’s where employees come in, right?” he asked sheepishly. He rubbed the back of his neck, smirking as Jeremy relaxed his hold on the butt of his gun. “He knows?”

  I nodded.

  Paul nodded in approval. “Good.”

  “You haven’t really answered my question yet. Why’d you come through the locked back door, instead of coming in the front?” I asked, eyeing the lock-pick kit in his hand.

  I used to have one just like it.

  Dad gave one to each of us on our thirteenth birthdays.

  I kind of missed mine.

  “I was trying to declare my employment, I guess. Since the Sullivans are watching the inn like we suspected and you’ve been stressed out enough as it is…I…uh…” He glanced at Jeremy, his cheeks going red when he saw my husband watching this clearly uncomfortable conversation. “…I’m coming to work for you. Not because I want to, but because I love you.”

  My jaw fell. Legit fell.

  Paul had never told me he loved me. Never.

  Even Jeremy looked shocked.

  Paul rubbed his jaw, his cheeks matching his red plaid shirt. “I refuse to sit back and watch you struggle with these assholes for another second. So…I’m here to help out, and when the time comes, to help fight them. If you’ll still have me.”

  Jeremy choked on his coffee.

  Paul rocked back on his heels.

  The phone rang.

  No one moved.

  It was as if the Sullivans had heard Paul’s proclamation.

  Holy crap.

  Chapter 21

  After a moment passed, Jeremy was the first one to react. He walked across the room, picked up the phone, and said, “McCullagh Inn. How can I help you?”

  As Jeremy handled whoever was on the other end of the phone, I found my voice and took a step toward Paul. “You’re working for us. Seriously?”

  “Yes.” Paul flexed his jaw and brushed nonexistent lint from the front of his shirt. “I don’t know if I’ll stay, but I’m here until we figure out this Sullivan—”

  “What?” Jeremy said, his voice rising as he headed for the table. “Are you all right? Is everyone okay?”

  My stomach twisted as he turned and came back, only to do it again. “Oh, no.”

  “What is it?” Paul asked, his voice low as we both stared at Jeremy.

  “I don’t know, but it’s not good. He’s pacing.”

  “I’ll do whatever it takes to make this happen. If you need me to drive and get them for you, I will.” He was silent, his hand fisted at his side, and then: “Yes. Absolutely. We can do that. Just let us know.”

  I looked at Paul.

  He shrugged.

  Jeremy hung up, his back to us, and I waited. “Son of a bitch.”

  “What?” I asked, walking up to him, done being patient. It didn’t fit me well. “What happened?”

  “That was Violet, the florist. She was robbed last night.”

  “Oh, my gosh! Is she okay?”

  “Yes. But to make matters worse, the thief pulled the plug to the cooler that was holding all the flowers for the wedding. So they’re wrecked.”

  I covered my mouth and said, “No.”

  Jeremy said nothing intelligible. Just a few curses.

  “What’s the big deal?” Paul asked, looking confused. “Can’t we just run to Hannaford and buy some more? I’ll get them.”

  I dropped my hands and scowled at him. “No, we can’t just buy some more at a freaking grocery store, Paul.”

  “They’re special-order flowers from Talius,” Jeremy explained much more calmly. He wrapped an arm around me and hugged me close as he kissed my temple. “Violet thinks she can get her hands on more. There’s a shop in New Hampshire that imports from Europe, so she’s going to let us know what they say after she reaches out to them. I offered to drive down to get them for her, if they have them.”

  “I’ll go instead. As your newest employee, it should be my job,” Paul offered, eyeing me cautiously. “Besides, you should be here. Taking care of Chelsea.”

  I stiffened and pulled free. “I don’t need someone to take care of me.”

  “Spare me the ten-minute speech about being an independent woman. We all know you’re strong, but he’s your husband. Whether I believe in love and marriage or not”—he dragged a hand through his hair—“it means something, and he should be with you. You know you want him there, too, so stop acting like you don’t. You’ve loved him since you were ten.”

  I stared at him, mentally plotting his death.

  Unfazed, he cocked an eyebrow back at me.

  My anger faded quickly, though. He was right. The fact that he was the one sayi
ng it, though, and not me, came as a bit of a shock. Maybe Jeremy and I were rubbing off on him, and erasing some of the damage Dad had done. “Okay. Thanks,” I said.

  The phone rang again, and Jeremy hurried to answer it. “McCullagh Inn.” As he listened, I watched the muscles in his face relax. He smiled. I held a hand to my throat and grinned, too. Crisis averted. “Thank God. I’ll have my guy go get them right away. What’s the address?”

  He jotted it down, and I turned to Paul. “The Sullivans were probably behind this robbery, but there’s always the chance that it could be someone else who’s trying to stop the wedding. If it is, we have no idea how far they’re willing to go. So be careful. I love you too much to lose you.”

  Call me crazy, but I almost wished it was the Sullivans. At least with them, we knew what to expect.

  The same couldn’t be said for a crazy assassin.

  “I’m always careful,” Paul muttered, not meeting my eyes.

  Jeremy hung up, and came over with a piece of paper. “Are you sure you don’t mind going?”

  “Of course not.” Paul took the paper and tucked it in his back pocket. “Should I leave now?”

  “Yeah, the owner is going to be there, waiting for you. It’s paid for, so you just have to pick it up, and then bring it to Violet’s shop. Sound good?”

  Paul nodded once.

  “Oh, and Paul?” Jeremy called out.

  He stopped mid-stride. “Yeah?”

  “Welcome to the team,” he said, his voice gruff as he tossed the key at him. “Next time, don’t pick my lock.”

  Paul caught it effortlessly, and then he was gone.

  We stared at the door, then turned toward one another.

  “We’ve got this?” I asked hesitantly.

  “We’ve got this,” he said, a hell of a lot more confidently than me.

  I had a feeling it was all for show.…

  But I didn’t say a word.

  Chapter 22

  Later that night, Jeremy settled down on the couch beside me, wrapped an arm around my tense shoulders, and glanced at Grace and the prince, who sat on the couch across from us in a similar position. Grace tapped her foot impatiently, and Phillip hadn’t moved…unless you counted blinking as movement. Michelle stood close by, as usual.