She didn't want to keep remembering the hurt that had pierced his eyes just before he'd shuttered his entire expression. Or how quick he'd been to say, I'm sorry.
The whole thing had been her fault.
She couldn't face the swirling thoughts. She stood up abruptly. "And if you want to talk about lying, why don't you let me in on the big secret that you've been holding onto since Glorvaird?"
Color leached out of Alessandra's face. "What?"
Mia was shaking now, but she couldn't stop the words from spewing forth. "You and Gideon keep having conversations that stop when I walk in the room. You haven't looked me in the eye since we left the palace."
Alessandra's gaze skittered away. The stylist started to come back into the room, her arms full of tulle, but Alessandra waved her off. She ducked away.
Alessandra pressed her hands together in front of her waist, a sign of tension that Mia knew and recognized. She waited her sister out.
After a long exhale, Alessandra looked her in the eye. "Father told Eloise about an—an affair. From when we were small. We have a half-sister somewhere in the states. Eloise asked me to find her. She dropped off the grid years ago."
Mia sat back down, stunned. That was the last thing she'd expected. She'd known there was a secret, but she hadn't given real thought to what it was.
An affair? A missing half-sister?
"When were you going to tell me?" She forced the words out past lips that felt numb.
Alessandra shrugged, her hands pressing together so hard her knuckles were white. "I was trying to figure out the best time."
Mia stood up, unable to keep looking at her sister. Betrayal fired through her veins and tears threatened. "I'll wait in the car."
"Mia—"
But she didn't wait to hear whatever else Alessandra was going to say.
#
Two days after the kiss that wasn't, Ethan was worn slick. The one thing he wanted most was to fall into bed and forget the last three days had happened.
He still couldn't reconcile what had happened those last few minutes he and Mia had been together.
But he also couldn't forget the look on her face when she'd asked him to go to the ball.
Was he crazy to even consider going? He knew he'd stick out like a mutt in a room full of Persian cats, but even so, he'd dug to the very back of his closet, to the box of his dad's things that Carol hadn't thrown away or sold. There wasn't much. A ball glove. A handful of baseball cards that had sentimental value.
And his dad's suit.
Ethan had shrugged into the charcoal-gray suit coat to test the fit and found that he must have the same body shape as Dad, because it fit perfectly.
Now he sat on the end of his bed and looked at the suit that he'd hung up in the doorway to his closet.
It was a timeless style, a simple cut, but even so, it looked dated. But Ethan had paid the electric bill and water bill earlier today and knew there was no money for a frivolous expense like a tuxedo rental, not if he and the boys wanted to eat.
It would do, and hopefully it wouldn't shame Mia too much if he wore it.
It wasn't as if he expected her to stay by his side during the fancy event. No doubt there would be expectations of her, since her sister was the guest of honor, and he knew she was helping manage the event.
Besides, she'd been completely silent on text messages since she'd run off the property Tuesday night. He'd gotten used to receiving one or two texts from her a day, little messages that were more friendly than anything.
That she hadn't texted him in two days was telling.
Maybe she regretted inviting him. Maybe she didn't want him to attend at all.
"Ethan!" Sam's voice rang out from the hallway.
Ethan wanted to ignore him, wanted to throw his arm over his eyes and lie down on the bed, but Sam burst in the door without waiting for an invitation to come in.
"There's nothing to eat."
He took a breath before answering. "Where's Robbie? You guys can borrow the truck and head to the store."
Sam shrugged. "Somewhere off with Hank and his buddies. I'm dying here."
Ethan knew that his brother would keep whining if he didn't get what he wanted. Maybe it was taking the easy way out, but he got in his truck and headed to the grocery store.
An hour later, he'd worked his way through the shopping and was finally on the home stretch. The checkout stand.
Of course, there were only two checkers and three people in both lines, and so he was barely holding on to his patience as he inched up to the conveyor belt.
And his eyes caught on a familiar face on the cover of one of the tabloids in the checkout stand rack.
Mia.
He looked away immediately, forcing his eyes to the bright afternoon sunlight streaming through the front window panes. Someone had painted an ad on the large glass, but it was faded and chipped off.
He didn't want to know why Mia was featured on a tabloid cover. He didn't.
But he couldn't keep his gaze from drifting back to the magazine.
It was a grainy picture, but he could clearly make out her features as she sat across a small table from a man in a suit and tie. They were holding hands. His eyes went to the caption.
The Kissing Princess.
That was her nickname? He felt as if ice trickled down his spine. The kissing princess? Really? When she'd pushed away from him the moment he'd even thought about kissing her?
Heart thumping, he knew he should look away from the magazine, but he couldn't. He edged slightly closer so he could read the print beneath the caption.
Two former beaus fight to win the princess back—who will win her heart at the upcoming engagement ball?
Two who? Men she'd dated? Men she'd been in love with? The tabloid seemed to indicate these men would be at the big engagement ball. One was a...he squinted at the small print...duke. The other one was a popular international soccer player.
Ethan closed his eyes.
Who was he kidding, thinking she could be attracted to him? These guys were... There was no competition. He wasn't even in the same stadium—the same hemisphere as a duke or a pro soccer player.
"Hon, you ready?" The checker's voice cut through his mental fog, and he started loading his groceries onto the conveyor belt. He moved numbly, kept his eyes downcast on the food, on giving his hands something to do.
He'd tried to stay realistic about being Mia's friend, done his best not to read anything other than friendship into her desire to spend time with him.
Where exactly would things go, even if she were interested in him romantically? She was a princess! He was stuck here taking care of his stepbrothers for at least another two years. Even after that, what could he offer her? A piddling living operating a dairy?
What a laugh.
He paid for his groceries and pushed his cart into the parking lot.
And his cell phone dinged the text message chime from his pocket.
Mia: I need to see you.
His hands shook as he stuffed the phone back into his jeans' pocket. He was still raw from the other night, from her withdrawal.
And what he'd read in the tabloid somehow made things worse.
He didn't know whether he could answer her or not. He loaded the groceries in his truck and drove home.
#
When Ethan pulled into the drive, his headlights swept across the front of the trailer, and he spotted a small figure huddled on the front step.
Mia.
Her arms were wrapped around her knees, and her hair cascaded down her shoulders in a golden stream.
His stomach flipped, and he scrambled to find some sense of equilibrium. He hadn't answered her text, so hadn't expected to see her.
Where was her security escort? He craned his neck to see a headlight and part of the bumper of what looked like a farm truck hidden near the barn, further down his drive. Had she somehow ditched them?
What was going on?
He stepped out of t
he vehicle and filled his arms with two bags of groceries from the truck bed. Maybe if he kept things short, she'd leave. He was exhausted. Had already dealt with his stepbrothers enough for one day. He didn't know whether he could face more rejection from her.
But when he reached the step and got a good look at her in the twilight, he saw the silver tear tracks down her cheeks.
And the tension he'd been holding slid away in a wave of worry.
He set the grocery bags on the top step and reached for her. "Mia. What's wrong?"
She came off the steps and into his arms. She shook, still crying. Tucked her face into his chest.
Whatever had happened, it had obviously hurt her badly.
And he was man enough to push aside his own hurts.
He held her, letting her get the emotion out.
After a moment, she moved back slightly, using both hands to wipe moisture from her face.
He let her lead. When she sat on the step again, he sat next to her, leaving the groceries on the ground. His frozen foods would last, for now. He didn't hear Sam moving around inside. Maybe his stepbrother was into a video game or something. If he was that hungry, he could come outside and unload the groceries himself.
Mia inhaled, her breath shaky, still unsteady. "Sorry."
His own throat was thick from emotion. "My dad told me it was okay to cry."
She smiled a watery small smile.
Remembering those last days was still painful, though muted now by the years.
"What's going on?" he asked.
And then words burst from her like another flood. A half-sister she'd never known about, her older sisters keeping secrets.
She was hurt. Felt betrayed.
And even if he couldn't identify with her feelings exactly, he could remember the emotions he'd experienced when Dad had died. He put his arm around her shoulders, wanting to comfort.
And that seemed to set her off again. Her sniffle turned into a soft sob. Her face crumpled, and she turned into his shoulder.
"I-I don't even d-deserve for you to be s-so nice to me!" she wailed, her words muffled in his shirt.
This time her sobs abated more quickly, and she sat back again, though still tucked into his arm.
"I'd like to explain," she said after a hiccough.
He shook his head, and his chin brushed her hair. "You don't owe me anything." And he meant it.
"Well, I'm going to anyway." The stubborn tilt of her chin told him she was on her way to recovering from her shock. "You've been a good friend to me. Better than anyone else."
She breathed in deeply, a little steadier now. "About a month ago, I made a promise to myself."
She looked down, her hair falling over her cheek and blocking his view of her eyes.
He waited.
"I promised I wasn't going to kiss anyone again until I was sure it was the man I would marry. You see, I have this habit of falling in love too easily. With the wrong guys."
The bottom dropped out of his stomach. What was she saying? Was she admitting he was a wrong guy?
He forced himself to listen.
"My sisters have always been close to each other. And my father has always been distant. Since I was a teenager and started realizing what love could be, I wanted it. Wanted someone to love me just for me, not for my crown or for what benefits a relationship could bring them. I wanted someone who just wanted me," she finished in a whisper.
The depth of her desire was evident, though she wouldn't look at him, and he couldn't see her eyes.
"And every time I thought I'd fallen for someone who was right, it turned out not to be all wrong. They all just wanted something from me."
What a horrible feeling, to believe the person you loved was using you.
"And every time it happened, I realized I'd given too much of myself to those—to the men I thought I loved. So I promised myself, no more kissing."
Now it made sense why she'd pulled away. She had this vow to uphold.
He swallowed hard. He didn't know if Mia lumped him in the category with those other jerks, but he did know one thing. None of them deserved her. And he would never push for what she wasn't ready to give.
He squeezed her shoulders lightly. She tipped her head and tucked into the space between his neck and shoulder, apparently spent.
He just held her, trying to ignore the pounding of his heart.
Mia might put off a joyful, vivacious personality, but there were hurts beneath that he'd never expected.
He'd been wrong to want something from her. All she needed was a friend.
I promised I wouldn't kiss anyone... Unless it was the man I planned to marry.
He would never be that man. A princess would never marry someone as dirt poor as he, someone with no prospects.
But he could be the friend she thought he already was.
#
Alessandra sat in the darkened living room, curled into the couch.
Mia had refused to speak to her on the long ride home from Dallas, ignoring every overture and only looking out the window.
After a few tries, Alessandra had given up.
She'd messed things up with Mia.
The awful thing was, she probably felt a lot of the same things her sister felt. Betrayed by her father. Hurt.
And then there were the questions. Had her mother known, before she'd died? Why hadn't they been enough for Father?
What was their sister like? Did she know about them?
Mostly, Alessandra felt guilty. She blamed herself for not telling Mia sooner. She should've told her sister back in Glorvaird, or even better, forced Eloise to bring her into their chat when Alessandra had found out.
Weren't their relationships fractured enough? She'd known keeping secrets wouldn't be healthy for them, but she'd done it anyway.
She was so stupid.
The light went on in the hall, and she shrank even further into the couch, hoping that whoever it was—one of the cowboys, probably—would pass on by without seeing her.
"Alessandra?"
No luck. Gideon strode into the room, as if he'd sensed her hiding there. Should've gone up to her bedroom while she'd had the chance.
Things had been strained between them since the other night.
Are we making a mistake here? he'd asked.
And it had broken something inside her, hearing those words. She'd been blissfully happy.
Ignorant maybe. Hadn't had an inkling that Gideon continued to struggle with leaving his family behind for months at a time.
Again, she felt stupid. How could she not have realized?
Gideon's protective nature had been one of the things about him she'd first fallen for. He'd made her feel safe, even when she'd been running for her life.
It wasn't realistic to think he'd be able to just turn it off, even though he'd made a huge sacrifice to be a part of her life.
She didn't think she'd made a noise, but he rounded the couch and came right to her.
He sat next to her, not quite touching.
She stretched the sleeves of her long-sleeved T-shirt to cover her hands and used the material to wipe beneath her eyes.
"Allie-girl," he said roughly, the nickname he rarely used.
"I'm okay." She tried to put on a brave face. She went for a smile, but she felt it wobble a bit.
She knew Gideon had put enormous pressure on himself to find the thief. He was worried about Carrie, too. She didn't want to add to his burden.
But his big, warm palm came to rest at her lower back. He exerted gentle pressure, pulling her to him and, weak as she was, she crawled into his embrace.
"I heard from one of the security detail that you and Mia had a fight," he said into the crown of her head. "She found out about the missing princess?"
She nodded, misery leaching over her anew.
He held her for a long time, not speaking. Then, finally, "I'm sorry for how all this played out."
Her stomach clenched into a tight little ba
ll. Was he going to say that being with her wasn't worth all the trouble? Had be given up on them?
"This theft really hit me hard, and I've handled things all wrong. Especially with you. I'm sorry."
She couldn't help the tears that welled in her eyes, though she wished she could stem them.
She swallowed back a sob. "I'm sorry I didn't realize you were still struggling with the reality of being with me."
"I'm not." He said the words instantly, as if it were his gut reaction. It made her feel marginally better.
He exhaled, his breath ruffling the fine hair at her temple. "If I'd had my head on straight in the beginning... If I hadn't made excuses when you told me you wanted to be together, you wouldn't have a question in your mind right now. I don't regret choosing you, Allie-girl. I love you."
Hearing his words made her tear up again. "I love you too," she said through a tight throat.
"We'll get things figured out here," he said. "Maybe make some changes about how things are run. Everything will settle down."
She should be reassuring him, but he was doing that for her.
"Whatever you need from me," she told him, "I'm here."
He squeezed her lightly. "Mia will come around."
She hoped so. She needed to heal the rift with her sister.
Chapter Six
Late afternoon, the day of the ball, Ethan wrapped up with the dairy cows. He was filthy and in desperate need of a shower.
And there was a small part of him that was excited. Anticipating seeing Mia in her fine ball gown.
Over the past week, the couple of texts they'd shared each day had escalated into phone calls. Sometimes hours-long calls that had him staying up past his usually-early bedtime.
He found he didn't miss the sleep.
After her revelation about the vow she'd made, they'd kept things carefully in the Friend Zone. There had been no more practice dances. No more embraces.
She'd told him all about her life in Glorvaird. About her passion for working with battered women. That she couldn't cook a bit. He'd told her everything he remembered about his dad. About how difficult it had been to give up his college dreams. That he'd always wanted to be a veterinarian, but probably never would.
She was the best friend he'd ever had.
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