Page 52 of Princessa
“Does it snow here in the winter?” I looked to Grayson, curious about winters there. Savannah got cold with rare bouts of light snow, but nothing mammoth.
“Sure does. It’s one of our lucrative seasons, in fact. Skiing is prime here and so is our month-long Christmas festival in December. That’s when we bring out a horse and carriage and parade around town, chatting it up with the locals. Pass out gifts. Partake in the bake-off.”
“Bake-off?” I snorted. “You actually bake something?”
“Why do you look so aghast? Of course I bake something.”
I lifted my brows. “What do you bake?”
“A gingerbread house, of course.”
Visions of a shirtless Grayson, baking in his kitchen, flour smeared all over his face and chest, popped to mind.
“Seriously?”
“Yes, he’s quite serious. I’m the one who helps him carry the beast to to the car and then over to the judges’ table every year,” chimed in Finn.
My mouth fell open. There were several layers to this man; each one closer to his core revealed just how admirable, kind, and all around amazing he was. “Have you won any of these bake-offs?”
“Four, out of the seven years I’ve been participating. I mean, competition is stiff. Nicola and Mya’s pecan pie beat my entry last year.”
“Wait. You compete against your staff?” It just kept getting better and better.
“Yes, if they choose to enter. Nicola and Mya—not sure if you picked up they are best friends—had been making this delicious pie for years. I convinced them to enter it in the competition and they beat me.”
“What’s the prize?”
“Cash. Every year the amount varies and each time I’d won, I donated it back to the pot for the next year’s prize. So, since my precious gingerbread house won two years in a row, Nicola and Mya made out with a ton of cash with their win.”
Holy, shit. He was everything. Just everything.
My gaze back out the window, I began to imagine a life with Grayson, one beyond our current phase—which was new and invigorating in itself. But I wondered how we’d make it work. Clearly he had an entire life in Andorra. Duties. Royal responsibilities. If he wasn’t planning to marry Iris Godiva, who then would be his princess?
Me? Yeah, right.
I mean, I knew he brought me,the lady in his life, over to meet his mother and father, and then he’d said he loved me, but was it because he actually had future plans for us?
You’re the first woman he’s ever brought to the palace, you know.
The memory of Nicola beaming as she said it, played vividly in my mind.
Bella, you’re a dream come to life and I know there’s no one like you, no one I’d rather spend the rest of my life with.
Those were the words Grayson whispered before I fell asleep.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I sucked in a deep breath. I didn’t want to get my hopes up only to be disappointed in the end. I’d been down the road with someone I expected to propose, and all those hopes imploded.
My phone buzzed and I could tell by the ringtone, it was a text from Emma. I fished my cell from out of my purse.
Emma:Just checking in! Henri and I are going over some of the menu. He’s demanding that an ice sculpture of a fish—with a replica of his face, mind you—be part of a sushi bar. Seriously. Do people still do this shit???
I giggled. Henri was like the perfume industry’s version of Sir Elton John. He was talented, sweet as pie, and way over the top.
Me:Tell him we don’t do sushi bars or ice sculptures at events anymore. Show him the chic selection of one-bite appetizers, including the sushi bites. They may be perfect for the launch.
Emma:OMG! Sushi bites!! Winner, winner, sushi dinner! How’s it going over there? Have you noticed any alpaca farms? Are the king and queen as regal as they appear in magazine articles?
Me:They are amazing. Andorra is amazing. No alpaca farms.
