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“Well, we thought so. But no.”
“And you thought the chicken was worth the same amount as a diamond bracelet that I assume you thought was real at the time?” Now I’m losing my battle with my attempt to not grin.
“I did not. We thought the chicken was his beloved pet. Which would have made the chicken infinitely more valuable, no?”
I snort. “Maybe. If it had been his chicken.”
He nods. “Exactly. But since it wasn’t, he had no qualms swinging a plastic baseball bat at me while driving along beside me on a motorcycle, knocking me and the chicken off, and inflicting a wound that required sixteen stitches.”
My eyes are wide. “You could have died.”
“Yes. Which is why I punched him hard enough to require him to see a dentist the next day.”
I shake my head. “The article says fifteen stitches.”
He shrugs. “They were misinformed.”
And now I just laugh out loud. “That’s the part they got wrong?”
He’s grinning widely. “They might have missed a couple other things.”
“But you were in Morocco in a strange, exciting, and dangerous situation with stolen goods and a motorcycle crash?”
“Yes.”
“What the hell are you doing with me?” I ask him, honestly.
Immediately, he steps closer, and his voice drops to a husky, lower tone. “Being a much, much better man.” He lifts his hand and cups my face. “Anyone can get drunk, mouth off to the wrong people, get involved in a motorcycle chase, and steal a chicken.”
I lift a brow.
He gives a self-deprecating eyeroll, but then says, “You’re related to the Autre, Louisiana Landrys. Don’t tell me this story is that crazy to you.”
I laugh. “Fair.”
He sobers. “The excitement and rush I feel with you is unlike any I’ve ever experienced. And…I feel it every fucking time I see you. It’s absolutely amazing to me that I get to have this, you, every day, Abigail.”
I feel that same rush as he says those words. Damn. This is all so surreal, but yet, it’s so real. I have my hands in dirt and on various plants every day. My muscles are sore every night from working on the farm. I see a rainbow of colors, and smell the scent of plants, dirt, fertilizer, flowers, and fruit all day. I taste fresh produce I harvest and carry only a few yards into the kitchen. Every single one of my senses tells me this is as real as my work, my passion has ever been.
And this man…he can simply smile at me, and I feel every single cell in my body respond.
Torin watches me as he lifts a berry to his mouth and takes a bite. Then his eyebrows rise. "Damn, that's delicious."
I give him a smug look. "I know. I'm very good."
He lifts the strawberry to my lips, and I take a small bite. Then he rubs the berry over my lips before leaning in and kissing me, licking the juice off before sliding his tongue into my mouth. We kiss deeply and are interrupted only by the sound of clearing throats.
We pull apart, turning to grin at three of the stable hands who have come into the barn.
"Sorry to interrupt Your Highnesses," one of them says, giving us a short bow.
I laugh. I know very well that when they're out here working with him, they call him Torin.
"No worries, gentlemen," Torin turns to me, then leans over and hoists me over his shoulder. "The Princess and I were just leaving."
The guys are laughing as they say, “Hey, can we keep some of the strawberries?"
Torin keeps walking. "Nope. The next batch is all yours, but we’re going to need these."
