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Lindsey: He did not live in Louisiana the whole time. And Cara is his country. And he’s not just some guy. He’s our prince! No. The engagement needs to happen here.
Jen: I guess we’ll see. They’ve been over there for a long time. You don’t think…never mind. I don’t even want to put that out there.
Lindsey: Well, now you have to. What are you thinking?
Jen: You don’t think they’re considering staying there, right? Or buying a house or land there?
Lindsey: Why would you say that? He’s our prince. How could he stay there?
Jen: I don’t know. I just saw a report that he was on a ranch outside of Shreveport two days ago. Maybe that was just…for fun? But he has a ranch here that he loves and I was just wondering if he’s staying there this long to look for property? Maybe just someplace to stay when he’s there?
Lindsey: I don’t even know what to say. Why would he need a place to stay? Especially in Shreveport rather than near New Orleans where his family and friends are? And he needs to be here! Oh my God, Torin, Linnea, one of you has to be listening to us! You need to come home! Tell us what is going on!
Jen: This is why I didn’t want to bring it up. But on the bright side…at least we’ll have a royal wedding to look forward to, right?
Lindsey: Well, we’d better!
Jen: The palace has released another statement! Quote, “the royal family already considers Her Grace a part of the family and are enjoying seeing the reports and photos of the prince and duchess together as much as everyone else is.”
Lindsey: I swear to God, I’m more invested in this than I am my own dating life.
Jen: Oh, hold on, you have a dating life? Now you need to start talking!
Lindsey: And that’s a wrap for us today! Tune in tomorrow! Just wait ’til we tell ye!
Chapter 14
Abigail
“Abigail! You in here?”
I’m crouched in front of the lower-level shelves, checking on the new seedlings we started last week in the smallest of our greenhouses.
It’s small enough that it really only takes one of us to keep up on the plants inside and since I’m the one who loves and knows the most about tropical plants—this is where my beloved cacao and coffee trees are—I’ve kind of adopted this greenhouse as mine.
I stand and wipe my hair away from my cheek with my forearm, trying to keep my dirty gloves off my face.
“Yeah!” I call back to Austin, one of my fellow ag engineers.
“Delivery for you.” He comes around the end of the aisle with a huge box.
My mouth falls open. He’s not carrying a brown cardboard delivery box. It’s a box wrapped in cream paper with gold swirls and a gold ribbon crisscrossed over it with a huge gold bow on top.
“What is this?” I ask. “I didn’t order anything.”
Austin has a very serious girlfriend named Veronica. This is not a gift from him.
I hope.
“Someone sent it to you,” he says with a grin. He props the box on one hip as he swipes a gloved hand over the wooden table next to us, dusting potting soil to the floor. The space on the table is hardly clean when he sets the box down, but at least there’s not a quarter inch of dirt underneath the box.
“Apparently, there were very explicit instructions about how to deliver this,” he tells me. “It had to arrive today. Had to be unwrapped in the office so that this is all that showed up for you. And then it had to be brought directly to you no matter where you were.”
I stare at him. “Really?”
“Yep. And I won the contest to get to be the one who brought it down here.”
“There was a contest?” I ask, now staring at the box. My heart is racing. I never get surprise gifts.
