And he hadn't been able to keep from falling in love with her. He never planned to tell her. It just was. Part of him, intrinsic to his being.
He loved Princess Mia.
He made his way from the dairy barn to the trailer, pausing to give Peanut a belly rub at the back porch.
He could hear the boys tussling inside before he opened the back door. They'd been edgy and difficult all week. He'd tried talking to them. Tried to bring up the tutoring again with no results.
He sighed, hand on the doorknob. He'd told them he'd be gone for the evening, and they'd had their laugh at his expense. Like everyone else in town, they'd seen the tabloids and knew that Mia had rich, famous suitors at her neck and call. They couldn't understand his friendship with the princess, but that didn't matter to him.
Mia had asked him to go tonight, so he would.
He opened the door to see Robbie take down Sam in a combination football tackle and chokehold—except Sam was wearing a familiar gray suit coat.
Was that—?
"No!" Ethan shouted as he watched in horror. Amidst his brothers wrestling, one sleeve ripped completely off of his father's suit coat.
Robbie and Sam straightened. Neither had the good grace to look abashed. From where he stood, Ethan could see the inside lining of the jacket hanging loose, torn in two places.
The suit pants were crumpled on the floor, a discarded chocolate bar melting atop them, no doubt staining the material irrevocably.
"Are you—? What the—?" He couldn't even get a fell sentence out past the knot of anger lodged in his throat.
"What did you do?" he finally managed.
"Aw, Eeth," Sam said. "We saw this hanging in your closet and thought it would be fun to try it on."
He fisted his hands at his sides, shaking from the rush of adrenaline and anger and despair. "You knew I was planning to go to Mia's ball tonight."
Robbie laughed. Actually laughed. "You were planning to wear that old junk suit?"
"It was my dad's," Ethan said.
"Uh, yeah," Robbie said, "and it's way outta style."
Ethan was unable to find words. No matter if they disagreed with the style or would laugh at him all day long, the suit was his. Not theirs. What right did they have to touch it? None.
"After everything I've done for you, everything I've given you—this is how you repay me?"
Robbie laughed again, a cruel sound. "Everything you've given us? Like what? This dingy trailer and rice and beans five times a week? Like how you can't even afford to get us a truck of our own? And how you constantly nag us to clean up and do our homework? You call that taking care of us?"
The words hit Ethan like a physical punch. Before he could respond, Robbie said, "C'mon Sam."
He jerked his thumb to the door, and Sam followed him, discarding the ruined suit coat on the floor as he did so.
They left, and the silence that remained seemed deafening.
Ethan moved on numb legs to pick up the pants and suit coat. He knew before looking that there was no way they could be repaired, even if he had more than the two hours before the ball was scheduled to start.
He laid them out on the worn sofa anyway.
And felt like crying. This suit was one of the last things he had of his father, and it was utterly ruined. Completely demolished.
It wasn't just the suit, it was losing his dad. Losing the dream of the life he'd wanted.
Suddenly, the unfairness of it all pressed down on him. No matter Robbie's rude, ungrateful words, Ethan knew he'd done his best by the boys. So what if they ate simple meals? At least they ate. They had a roof over their heads, even if it was a mobile home and not a fancy brick house.
Still shaking with anger and hurt, he made his way out of the front door and sat on the stoop, where he'd sat with Mia a week ago, where he'd promised himself to be her friend and not to expect more.
If he didn't show up at the ball, she was going to be disappointed. Maybe even hate him a little, since he'd promised to be there. He'd be just as bad as the other men who'd let her down.
She was heading back to Glorvaird in a couple of days. Tonight was one of his last chances to see her. Who knew when she'd come back again.
His stepbrothers had ruined everything.
He clutched his head in his hands, pressed his elbows to his knees. Stared at the step between his work boots, trying to figure out some kind of solution.
The sound of tires on gravel drew his gaze up. Whoever it was, he wasn't in the mood for company.
He was shocked to recognize the veterinarian's work truck.
She met him near the steps. "Doesn't look like you're getting all gussied up for that fancy party."
He shrugged helplessly. "You heard about that, huh?"
"You left your phone on the back counter in the office earlier in the week. I might've seen a text from your princess about it. What's keeping you from it?"
His princess. Oh, how he wished.
He went inside and brought the ripped jacket and soiled pants out, held them up for her to see.
"Wow. Your stepbrothers?"
He nodded miserably.
But there was a suspicious twinkle in her eyes as she went back to her truck and ducked inside the driver's side door. "I had my suspicions that those two might try to ruin this for you," she called over her shoulder.
She had? He hadn't seen it coming at all.
And then, "That's why I brought this."
She turned and lifted a garment hanging inside transparent plastic. A tuxedo.
His heart starting beating again. "What's this?"
"James"—her adult son—"bought it for his wedding and hasn't used it since. I borrowed it. And these." She held up a pair of black dress boots, slicked and shiny in the afternoon light. "Y'all are about the same size."
His throat tightened. "I can't—"
"It's on loan." She moved forward and thrust the garment bag into his hands, leaving him no choice but to take it.
"Thank you." She couldn't know how much this meant to him. That someone had noticed. That she'd gone out of her way to make this kind gesture.
She'd saved his day.
Maybe she did know, because her eyes now held a twinkle that looked suspiciously like unshed tears. "And Ethan? Comb your hair."
#
Gideon waited with Alessandra in a small dressing room upstairs in the McMansion they'd rented out for the ball.
An engagement ball. He'd known better than to argue about it, knew that because of his fiancée's royal blood, there would be expectations.
He'd just as soon have gotten together with their closest friends and had a party over a pile of wings or grilled hamburgers.
"It's packed out there." Alessandra turned from where she'd been peeking through a crack in the outer door, closing it softly behind her. The huge skirt of her royal blue dress swished softly as she moved toward him. She smoothed it nervously, her long white gloves contrasting with the dark fabric.
He'd only seen her in a tiara once before, but she wore one tonight, with her hair swept up in a complicated twist high on her head. Her shoulders were bare and showed off a glittering sapphire necklace that probably cost more than his entire spread.
"That's good, right?" He'd bulked up the event security with a team he'd assembled from local law enforcement and some SEAL friends who were on leave and able to help him out.
He couldn't resist checking his phone. No new messages, which should mean everything was running like it should be. No one had tried to hop the security fence. Nothing suspicious was showing up on the series of security cameras he'd spent the week installing.
He slipped the phone back into the inside breast pocket of his jacket, but not before he caught Alessandra's frown. "Sorry," he said, with an unrepentant grin. Maybe he'd gone overboard, but he refused to take chances, not after what'd happened to Alessandra before.
"Do you remember the steps to our dance?" she pressed.
He moved forward, pant legs br
ushing against the hem of her dress as he got close enough to take her gloved hand.
"Stop worrying." He gave her hand a squeeze.
They'd had a private instructor visit the Triple H, and he'd learned a complicated waltz over the past two weeks. Here in a bit, when all the guests had arrived, Mia would announce them as a couple, and they'd make a grand entrance down a wide, curving staircase that led to the ground floor of the mansion. Three large ballrooms emptied into the grand foyer, every surface covered with marble. He and Alessandra would have a special dance together and then, according to his future bride, all he had to do was stand in a receiving line with her and greet their guests. Maybe mingle a bit later. Shake hands and smile.
He wasn't sure he believed it would be that easy, but he'd worked difficult missions and intended to see this one through.
Alessandra smiled tremulously at him. "Are you sure—really sure—you don't want to back out? We haven't been seen together publicly before now, so if there's any chance you want to call it off—"
"I don't." He cursed himself for the abrupt words he'd spoken two weeks ago that had made her believe he might not be in this for the long haul. "I love you, and we're getting married next spring."
Her lips trembled minutely. She sniffed delicately. He knew the stylist had taken a long time—over a half hour—to get her makeup just right. She wouldn't want to ruin it by crying.
He squeezed her hand again. "I'd kiss you if I weren't worried about messing up your lipstick. Your stylist is a little frightening. All those little metal tools..."
She smiled, like he'd hoped she would, the tense moment past.
They still had to find out who the thief was. There'd been some issue with the digital video, and the bank had had to request a backup copy. It was supposed to arrive first thing Monday morning.
Then there was going to be a reckoning on the ranch.
#
Ethan stood at the top of a secondary staircase in the huge mansion that someone called home. He'd arrived early enough to check in with the scary security dude at the front door—thank God Mia had gotten his name on the list—and to witness Mia announce the happy couple, who'd proceeded down the large main staircase like royalty—which Alessandra was—and then danced a complicated dance to the live violin and cello music playing from the center of the house.
From across the room, he'd only been able to catch a glimpse of Mia, who wore a powder-blue gown. Separated by probably a hundred and fifty guests in their fancy tuxedos and long dresses, he hadn't been able to get the crowd to part for him to make his way over to her. Then she'd disappeared completely.
So he'd climbed these stairs to see if he could spot her from above.
He'd checked his cell phone several times, in case she was trying to locate him. Then he figured she might not have her phone on her with that fancy, frilly dress. Did something like that even have pockets?
One ugly whisper that sounded suspiciously like his stepmother's voice reverberated in his mind. She doesn't really want you here.
He tried his best to ignore the insidious voice, but it was difficult. Especially in light of his stepbrothers' actions from earlier in the day.
Then he spotted her. She moved effortlessly through the crowd, greeting those around her with the smile that never failed to make him week in the knees.
She looked up, caught sight of him. She was still halfway across the room, but he clearly saw the way her smile changed. Became more real somehow. A special smile, just for him.
He saw her lips form his name as she started toward the staircase.
Heart pounding in his ears, he made his way down the steps to meet her. The unfamiliar boots were a size too small and pinched his feet, but the cut of the borrowed tuxedo fit well, just enough room for his shoulders in the jacket.
He'd had to stop someone in the parking lot and get help with the bowtie.
But neither pinching shoes or tie issues mattered as he took in the light shining from Mia's eyes as she closed the last few feet between them.
Her dress was something else. The pale blue made her skin luminescent, and she hadn't been joking when she'd mentioned the layer of fabric that he could easily see himself tripping on or stepping on if they really did try to dance. She was almost like a planet of her own.
He was definitely trapped in her gravitational field.
He stopped short, not wanting to muss her dress or the way her hair was perfectly styled, partly up and partly cascading down her back in soft curls.
She seemed to have no such compunction, because she threw herself the last two feet toward him, leaving him no choice but to catch her. He held her trim waist loosely between his hands, breathed in the sweet flowery perfume and just Mia beneath. Her huge skirt pressed against his legs, and he locked his limbs, afraid to move an inch and risk stepping on it.
He heard conversations cease nearby. Probably the who's who that was here wondered who he was to get a hug from the princess.
"You came," she whispered.
"You look... beautiful," he returned, his voice catching. This amazing creature counted him—him!—as a friend. Someone she wanted by her side. He still couldn't fathom it.
Her eyes shone at the compliment, and he was stunned all over again by her beauty. Inside and out.
"They're starting another waltz next," she said, "and I'd really like to dance with you."
"Are you sure?" he asked. "That might be a recipe for disaster."
She slid him a glance as she finally moved slightly away from him. "I'm sure. Come on."
He followed her.
Couples had arranged themselves on the marble dance floor in one of the huge ballrooms. Mia's dress was definitely the widest, but he glanced side to side, taking in the countless floor-length skirts. There were a lot of people, especially considering they represented obstacles that he needed to watch out for.
The last thing he wanted to do was embarrass Mia by bumping into someone else or tripping her in that infernal skirt.
She seemed to read his mind as the musicians drew out a long note. "Keep it simple. Trust the music," she said softly, her chin tilting up. "I trust you."
And when she said something like that, he'd willingly throw himself off the cliff. The music started in earnest, and he followed the count. He found that if he kept to the small square that Mia had taught him and threw in a quarter turn every so often, it wasn't that hard.
He didn't step on her skirt. They didn't run into any of the other couples.
And he might be sweating through his undershirt, but having her smile up at him like he was worth something made him feel like he was flying.
#
With the happy couple busy greeting their guests and the party going smoothly, Mia didn't want to waste another minute she could be spending with Ethan. After all, the palace had already scheduled her flight home for Monday morning.
So she dragged him out to the terrace, where a beautiful rose garden was putting out its final blooms of the season. She knew Gideon's security team had a presence out here, but they'd leave her and Ethan alone, if they knew what was good for them.
"That wasn't so bad, was it?" she teased. He'd done remarkably well with the simple waltz, and she'd been proud to be on his arm.
These past two weeks had been the happiest days of her life. Oh, there'd been bumps. She and Alessandra still hadn't patched things up, and she'd avoided two calls from Eloise.
But spending time with Ethan...discovering the kind of man he was…had been incredible.
She'd fallen for him. Hard. Her feelings were deeper than anything she'd experienced with anyone else.
He looked back to where the light spilled from the French doors that opened onto the terrace. Most of the partygoers remained inside, hoping to speak to Alessandra and Gideon, or to catch a glimpse of the other rich and famous guests, but some couples had meandered into the quiet darkness. Hopefully none of the invited press was out here, though she'd learned she could never be
too careful.
"Are you sure you shouldn't be mingling? I don't want to keep you from your..." He made an uncertain gesture with one hand.
"Brad Pitt? I told you he declined the invite."
He smiled, but it faded too quickly. "I don't want to monopolize your time, if you're needed elsewhere."
And that was one of the reasons she'd fallen for him. Because he put her needs—and everyone else's—above his own.
"If you're worried about the duke and the soccer player," she said carefully, aware of what the tabloids had reported. "I said my hellos earlier. I would rather spend this time with you. I want to be with you." She finished with an honesty that would have been hard for her in the past.
Something intense flared in the depths of his eyes.
His selflessness was also why she hadn't spoken of the future. She wanted Ethan in her life, but she knew he was committed to raising his stepbrothers through their high school graduations. He'd told her some of his past, and people from town had been more than happy to fill in the rest. His stepmother's insistence that he devote all his spare time outside of schooling to maintaining the dairy. How she was the one who'd mishandled the property and sold it off to pay for her own extravagances.
Mia refused to add to his responsibilities or complicate his life. Surely, she could find reasons to visit the states—and Ethan—as often as possible. Which meant she needed to get over herself and talk to Alessandra and Eloise. Her sisters could smooth things over for her with travel plans and the international royal agenda.
But she also wanted tonight.
#
Ethan tried not to feel the magic of the night. He really did.
But he was already in love with Mia. And when she looked at him like that...
He knew that whatever was happening between them was just for tonight. It had to be.
He shifted his feet, his toes pinching.
"What's the matter?" Mia asked.
"Borrowed these boots." He shrugged. "Might have a blister in the morning, but it was worth it to dance with you."
She glowed in the moonlight. "We can do it again. Just take off your boots. No one will see your sock feet out here."
He made a face, but the boots were really starting to hurt, so he took them off and placed them on a nearby stone bench.
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