She nodded slowly, her mouth a flat line that he hated. "Opportunity. I get it. So you think if you'd been here, this wouldn't have happened?"
He shrugged, looked away.
They'd talked before, at length, about his protective tendencies, especially where his sister was concerned. His fears that Carrie and her daughter Scarlett could be hurt or in danger while he was gone overseas were part of the struggle he'd had when he'd wrestled with being with Alessandra in the first place.
He thought he'd overcome the need to be here, on the Triple H. But this situation had brought those fears right back. He couldn't help feeling that if he'd been on the premises, this wouldn't have happened.
Alessandra uncrossed her arms, paced several steps toward him with arms akimbo. "You weren't on a top secret mission, Gideon. Whoever did this could have picked up the phone and gotten you on your cell at any time. If they were in trouble, they should've asked you for help. Not taken the cash and tried to cover it up. This is not your fault."
He looked at her, forced himself to let go of the stress and guilt and betrayal he'd felt all afternoon, and really looked at the fiery princess, riled up on his behalf. He reached for her, and she came into his arms easily.
He could let go of his tension—some of it at least—but he still couldn't help feeling that this was at least partly his fault. His responsibility. And he'd been gone.
But holding Alessandra close, burying his face in her hair... He couldn't imagine pushing her away a second time, especially not when they were supposed to be celebrating their engagement. She was his. She'd agreed to be his wife.
He couldn't let her go, but he also had a responsibility to his family and to the Triple H.
What was he supposed to do now?
* * *
"What is that smell?" Robbie asked from his slouched seat at the small kitchen table.
Ethan knew what the smell was. Skunk.
He moved past the boys at the cramped kitchen table in their single-wide and headed for the back door. He only had to crack it to see their golden Labrador, Peanut, sitting at attention just outside, wanting to come in.
And just cracking the door let in more of the awful stink.
He shut the door quickly.
"Did you let Peanut out?" he asked the boy, turning back to the table.
Sam didn't look up from the comic book he had spread across the other end of the table. "I did a while ago."
The boys had an open bag of potato chips and Oreos between them on the tabletop. With both of them and their football bulk slouched there, there was only room left at the very corner.
Ethan was having a hard time picturing Princess Mia seated there.
And an even harder time imagining his brothers behaving politely while she tutored them.
Was this tutoring session just asking for trouble?
When he'd made the teasing comment at the football game last weekend, he'd never expected her to agree to help. He'd even tried to dissuade her, but it seemed once she'd set her mind on it, he wouldn't be able to talk her out of it.
He'd planned to stick close and make sure his brothers showed the proper respect, but with their golden lab smelling up the entire trailer just by sitting on the back porch, he didn't see how he could do that. He could lock Peanut in the dairy barn, but that'd cause him no end of trouble in the morning when the cows revolted against the smell.
"Did you check the back gate?" Ethan pressed Sam. The gate had a faulty latch, and if it didn't get closed tightly, it came open. Now it appeared the dog had gotten out and found a disaster. His brothers' irresponsibility was nothing new, but this timing was the worst.
He could just picture the princess holding a handkerchief over her nose and mouth and trying not to gag as she helped his brothers.
This was a disaster.
A knock sounded at the front door. Crap.
He threw an encompassing glance at them. "Behave. I mean it. Remember, you playing football depends on your grades."
They'd been argumentative and defensive about the incident with their teacher and the subsequent detention. And he'd spoken to them at-length over the past days about what it would mean for their college careers if they didn't get football scholarships, and if they didn't get these grades up.
But now Robbie made a face, as if mimicking Ethan. Sam snorted softly.
Ethan suppressed a sigh. What could he do but open the front door?
It was only a matter of steps in their fifteen-by-seventy-two foot trailer. He'd tried not to think about the disparity between what Mia was used to and what she'd find here. He didn't want to be ashamed of his circumstances, not when he'd fought tooth and nail to provide for his family.
But that didn't stop heat from burning his face as he pulled open the door.
"Hey," he greeted her. One of her security goons was on the step just behind her. At least with someone burly like that on the premises, his stepbrothers weren't likely to get in real trouble.
"I've got a small problem. You can probably smell it."
Her nose scrunched, obscuring her freckles and creating an adorable crinkle between her eyes. "What is it?"
"Skunk. My stepbrothers... My dog got out of the yard and apparently met up with one. Let me introduce you to the boys, then I'll disappear out back to give her a bath. I didn't mean to leave you on your own."
She reached out and touched his forearm, stopping his rushed words. "No worries. Can I come in?"
His face went even hotter as he moved to let her pass. He made quick work of the introductions in the kitchen and then left Mia and her bodyguard inside with his stepbrothers and walked out the back door. He was a little afraid to read in her expression what she really thought of the tiny trailer.
Peanut lay on the edge of the small back deck, her chin on her front paws. When he walked over to her, she looked up at him with morose eyes.
"You're a mess, girl," he said with a sigh.
And then he left the porch behind, casting one last look at the trailer. "And so am I. C'mon."
A half hour later, he wasn't sure who'd gotten the bigger bath, him or Peanut. After a tomato juice rinse and two shampoos, she smelled moderately better. Of course, she'd shaken excess shampoo and water all over him numerous times, when his reflexes hadn't been fast enough to stop her.
Now he smelled like wet dog.
He'd taken off the worn chambray over-shirt that had borne the brunt of most of the soaking and now wore a T-shirt and jeans that were only mostly damp.
Half of the deck was bathed in late afternoon sunlight, and Peanut lay stretched out on her side, soaking up its warmth. He stood nearby, leaning against the railing with his arms crossed.
Should he go inside? There would be no sneaking past his stepbrothers or the princess. The place was too small for them not to notice when he opened the back door. But at least he could clean up a little in his bedroom, get a clean, dry shirt.
Before he'd had time to think a decision all the way through, the back door opened and Robbie's head poked out. "Hank's here. Sam and me're going to hang with the guys for a while."
"Wait!" Their friends were here? This tutoring session had been planned for three days! Ethan squared off toward the door. "What about your tutoring? Mia came out here to help you two. You can't just run off."
"It's been like a half hour, Ethan. We're bored, and we're going."
Before Ethan could take more than a half-step toward the house, Robbie had slammed the door closed, leaving Ethan outside, alone.
Frustrated. And embarrassed by his stepbrothers' actions.
He ran one hand through his hair, bracing himself to go inside and apologize.
He was reaching out for the door when it opened again, this time Mia danced outside and almost right into his arms.
He jerked back up a step. Didn't know if she saw his fumble as she turned to make sure the door latched.
"I guess they're already gone?" He didn't really have much hope that they'd st
ayed, not since she'd come outside.
"Yes."
He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. "I'm sorry if they were rude to you."
"They weren't really," she said, and he narrowed his eyes, trying to gauge whether she was stretching the truth. "They weren't all that attentive."
He exhaled, frustration with his brothers and embarrassment warring in him. "I'm sorry," he said again.
She shrugged, and smiled. "It's all right. I really came to see you, anyway." She rendered him speechless and open-mouthed as she turned to look at Peanut. With her back turned, he could admire her knee-length skirt, the tights, and the slate-colored sweater that hugged her curves.
"Is this the guy—"
"Gal," he managed in a strangled voice.
She gave him a sassy look over her shoulder. "The lady that got attacked by a mean old skunk?"
Peanut raised her head, tail thumping the wood deck beneath her. When she realized Mia was approaching, the dog got to her feet.
He cleared his throat, tried to find some shred of dignity. "She probably hunted it down. That one has a nose for getting into trouble."
"Aw, she seems sweet."
Peanut sat obligingly to be petted, almost as regal as Mia was as the princess scratched behind her ears and beneath her chin.
"She is," he agreed. "Mostly."
"Hmm." This time when she glanced over her shoulder, an ornery smile lit her eyes. "Like her owner."
* * *
Mia knew she shouldn't take such pleasure in seeing that blush climb in Ethan's cheeks, but she couldn't help herself.
The dog's fur was soft and damp beneath her hands, and she gave the animal one last pat before she turned to Ethan. She'd already asked her security detail to wait in the car.
"I believe I promised you some of my secrets," she said.
She didn't really want to divulge her family's drama to Ethan, but fair was fair, and she wasn't ready to head back to the Triple H yet. Something had happened between Gideon and Alessandra two days ago. They were still engaged, still apparently happy, but there was some tension between them, and Alessandra wasn't talking.
It made for long, quiet evenings on her own.
"You don't owe me anything," Ethan said. He settled against the railing in a loose-limbed, relaxed pose.
And that was just another thing to like about the dairy farmer. He didn't keep count of favors owed. There was no scale to balance, like her former boyfriend, the duke of Regis, who'd always expected something from her.
Ethan was like no one she'd ever met before. Last Friday night, when the wind had turned cold, he'd tucked her into the fleece blanket he'd brought along.
It had taken her ten minutes to talk him into sharing the blanket, when his hands had been white with cold as he'd tried to tuck them into his jacket pockets. And when the blanket had been wrapped around both of their shoulders, enclosing them in warmth, she'd waited.
He hadn't tried anything. Hadn't put his arm around her. Hadn't held her hand. Hadn't tried to sneak a kiss.
None of the men she knew would've missed a chance like that.
His hesitation had made her lean into him on Friday, blaming the blanket for the need to be close, when really, it had been all her.
She knew he was attracted to her. At least, she thought so. Even if she discounted the blushes as something else—embarrassment or humility—every once in a while, she caught him looking at her with an intensity that could only be attraction.
Was he really that honorable? Or did something else hold him back?
She settled next to him at the railing, close enough that their shoulders brushed, but she faced outward.
"This is really pretty," she said, getting her first long look at his property. A long, low white barn was nestled into the landscape across the way. A white rail fence spread back onto the property, and black and white cows dotted green fields beyond.
"Thank you." He turned to match her stance, though he stood straight while she leaned against the railing. "But it's nothing like it used to be when my dad was alive."
His words were even, but she heard the underlying emotion.
"My stepmother was forced to sell off quite a bit of our land. Which means we don't have enough grazing pasture for full capacity. Which means it's hard to make a profit. You can see there are repairs that need to be made but..." We can't afford it. She heard the words he didn't say.
She saw that the barn needed to be painted. And some of the fence drooped, as if it needed to be replaced.
Ethan sounded defeated. It was slight, but there. The inside of his family's trailer was older, out of date. Tiny. The entire thing was smaller than many hotel rooms she'd stayed in before.
But everything was neat and tidy. She remembered herself as a teen—all right, and sometimes now—how her clothes ended up all over the place. Of course the palace had staff that cooked and cleaned up after the royal family. Ethan managed it all himself. Without, it seemed, much help from his stepbrothers.
"I think it's amazing what you've done for your family, all on your own."
He shook his head slightly, but she persisted. "It is."
He didn't make another denial, but she saw the twist of his lips that said he didn't think he was amazing at all.
They stood in comfortable silence for a few moments. She sighed. "My family can also be...difficult."
She didn't like to talk about it. Had barely broached the subject with the men she'd dated before. But somehow, Ethan's patience as he waited for her to elaborate made it easier to keep going.
She told him all of it. Father's MS diagnosis when she'd been ten and feeling that she didn't really know the man, only the crown. Eloise's near-fatal car accident years ago and how it had turned her sister into a beastly person. That she and Alessandra didn't have the close relationship that she wanted.
The only thing she didn't tell him was her dating past. She was a little ashamed of how easily she'd let herself fall in love with those other men.
Though in the face of her deepening feelings for Ethan, she wasn't sure she could call those old flings love. Not really. Now, her previous feelings seemed more like infatuation.
Somehow, while she'd been talking, Ethan's hand had closed over hers on the railing. She'd been the one to link their fingers together, wanting the closeness of that more intimate clasp.
He didn't offer her platitudes, just held on.
Alessandra's engagement ball was ten days away. At Eloise's prodding, Mia had promised she would come home soon after.
But how could she just walk away from someone as special as Ethan? She wanted to see him again.
Now she leaned toward him, pressing into his shoulder and looking up at him. Their hands remained linked.
"Are you planning to come to the engagement ball?" she asked softly.
He exhaled what might've been a bit of a laugh, his lips twisting until he looked down on her and must've realized she was serious.
"Me?" He seemed incredulous.
"Yes, you." She bumped him with her hip. "Everyone's invited."
"Everyone like the governor of Texas and Brad Pitt and..." He raised his eyebrows as if daring her to contradict him. Or to go on with the list, she wasn't sure.
And she realized she desperately wanted him there. He would be the only real friend in a sea of people who wanted things from her. There'd be press, who'd already started sniffing around town, looking for more news about the kissing princess.
"I think Brad declined the invitation. Which is really too bad." Her lips quirked. She turned toward him, still clinging to his hand, which forced him to face her as well.
"Please, will you come? For me?"
He stared down at her, and she couldn't decipher his expression. Uncertainty? Confusion?
"There'll be dancing, right? The fancy kind, like...waltzing?" He asked it as if he didn't even know if waltz was the right term. He shrugged slightly, almost helplessly. "I don't know how to dance like tha
t."
"Well, then. I'll show you."
* * *
Ethan had only meant to find an excuse—any excuse—for Mia to rescind her invitation to her sister's engagement ball, but instead he found himself with his arms full of slender woman.
This was...uncomfortable. She was too close, and he was afraid he still smelled like wet dog.
It was also heaven.
The sun had set while she'd talked about her family, sharing with him in a way that no one had since his dad had died. Now only a sliver of light showed on the western horizon, and the flood light halfway between the barn and house was the only other illumination. Every once in a while a car passed on the two-lane road out front.
It made things feel more intimate than they probably should have. He breathed shallowly, wondering if he should call this off completely.
She stepped back slightly and touched his shoulders, then ran her small hands along his upper arms, positioning them the way she wanted. Then she pushed down.
He lowered his arms, thinking that's what she wanted, but she tsked at him. "No, no. You've got to have strong arms to lead your partner. Not noodle arms. Try again."
He raised his arms back to where she'd had them, and this time when she pushed down against him, he resisted her and kept his arms in place.
"Good." When she smiled up at him like that, he felt about ten feet tall.
And then she stepped forward, into the circle of his arms, and his brain and ability to speak floated right out of the top of his head.
She tucked his right hand around the curve of her waist before resting her left hand on his shoulder. Her other hand came up to clasp his.
His mouth was so dry he couldn't tell her that this was a recipe for disaster and that they'd better stop now.
They were so close that her temple brushed his chin as she settled fully into his arms. He swallowed hard.
"The waltz is a simple pattern," she said softly, as if she sensed the intimacy of the moment as well. "One, two, three. One, two, three. Pretend we're standing in a box. You're the man, you'll lead. That means you'll move forward, and I'll follow you."
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