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I could go on all day about fishing and trapping with Papaw, and Ben would listen with rapt attention.
I still feel self-consciously hillbilly when I catch myself yammering on and on about this sort of stuff. “Sorry,” I say, shaking my head.
“For what?”
“Babbling.”
“Don’t apologize. I would not have asked you to join me for dinner if I didn’t enjoy listening to you talk.”
In all my dating history, no one has ever expressed anything like this to me. No one has ever made me feel this seen or special.
And then I have to remind myself that this is not a date. I’m doing him and myself a favor by having adventures with a new friend rather than holing up alone in my pajamas on my day off, as I usually do.
“Maybe it’s my second glass of wine talking, but it’s been a long time since I was this relaxed. I’m glad I met you, Ben.”
The man shifts in his seat, looking like he suddenly got a bit of bad crustacean.
“Hailey.”
“Yes?”
“I have to confess something to you.”
I lean forward and gesture with my wine glass, and give him a wink. “It’s always a doozy when someone starts with that instead of jumping in. Me, I prefer to rip the Band-Aid off. Let ‘er rip.”
He sucks his lips into his mouth, then exhales. “Hailey. You must prepare yourself for what I’m about to say. You may not believe me; I can provide proof if that’s the case. But I ask that once I reveal what I’m about to reveal that you remain calm and, if you are able, try not to call attention to us. To me. Or to yourself. Things could get very uncomfortable for you as well as me.”
“I’m growing uncomfortably old listening to your preamble.”
“Apologies,” he says.
“No, no. Keep going. I like watching you clench your jaw when you’re trying to be serious. It’s not cute or pretty at all, by the way. Very masculine.”
I may be tipsy.
This wine is so, so good.
The man rests his hands on the live-edge table and squeezes, taking a deep breath. “Very well. Here it is. I’m Prince Torben Haart of Gravenland. That’s where I’m from, next in line to the throne, son of the king. And further, I’m here in America to find a wife.”
He underscores this by peeling off his silly mustache. Finally!
Our server buzzes by, and I flag him down. “Yes, ma’am?”
“My dinner companion needs a glass of water, please. And do you have any antacids?”
He takes one look at Torben and turns back to me, nodding. “Right away, ma’am.”
When the server departs, I lean across the table. “Breathe, honey. I know who you are.”
He sits back in his chair and studies me. “You know?”
I nod. “I’ve known since the first time you almost crashed into my tollbooth.”
“Excuse me?”
I can’t tell if he’s outraged or offended.
“You kept a secret from me all day?”
