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CHLOE
I never knew that freedom had a flavor.
But right now, it tastes like passion tea lemonade, chocolate pancakes, and a hint of sea breeze.
It tastes … blooming brilliant.
“More lemonade?” The waitress—a smashingly gorgeous gal wearing her blonde hair back in a tie,Lucyprinted on the name tag pinned to her purple T-shirt—holds up a pitcher of the pink liquid.
“Ooo, yes.” I set my fork on my plate. “Please.”
As the drink pours into my glass, my gaze lingers over the railing of The Green Robin’s raised deck, at the boardwalk, sand, and Pacific Ocean waves below. The breeze rustles my long curls and welcomes me back.
When I came to Hallmark Beach, California, just last week—visiting with my brother’s fiancée Lauren and her friend Shelby, who is getting married here in July—there were not this many other visitors. Oh, don’t mistake me. The entire town is still charming, quaint, the kind of place with zero traffic lights and a million friendly smiles. But this time around, the boardwalk is overrun with people.
Mums walking babies in prams. Runners taking advantage of the beautiful late-March weather. Friends gathering on the beach with coolers and netballs (or volleyballs, as my American friends would say). Lovers strolling hand in hand, not a care beyond being present with the one they love.
How I wish I had that luxury—but the manIfancy will never be mine. Still, if I can forget about that, about him, my whole being agrees that it’s simply lovely in this town. The best part is sitting here, alone, no cameras in my face. Nobody watching, or judging, my every move.
Nobody caring who I am.
“I just have to say”—the waitress’s voice breaks into my thoughts, and my gaze pivots back to her—“you look familiar.”
Drat. People don’t often identify me as the princess of Kentonia, but that doesn’t matter to my parents or my lovable but slightly overbearing brother Topher who insist that I travel with a bodyguard for those times—like now—when I am recognized.
Can I help it that just yesterday, my bodyguard Tia had to rush home from where we were staying in San Diego thanks to a family emergency, leaving me completely free to do as I pleased? No, I cannot, though I probably could have stayed put. Instead, I decided to enjoy my freedom while I could, until my father or brother inevitably sends one of their favorite crusty old henchmen to become my shadow.
So, I came here—and I regret nothing.
Of course, I have a reason beyond the simple pleasure of improving my tan or window shopping. Before I can dive into that reason, though, two things must occur:
One: I have to convince Prince Topher that this is the best idea ever and that he should trust his brilliant sister who loves him more than her favorite pair of red Jimmy Choos. (Hint: that’s a lot.)
And two: I need to convince Lucy here that I am not in fact the princess of Kentonia (even though I am) and that I don’t deserve any more scrutiny than any other of her customers this wonderful Tuesday morning (which I really don’t).
“I look familiar?” I smile broadly at Lucy. “Guess I just have one of those faces.”
Lucy taps her delicate chin. The woman has excellent bone structure, and despite the fact she isn’t wearing a stitch of makeup, her skin is flawless. “No, no, I remember now,” Lucy says, a Southern accent floating around the edges of her words. “You were here with a group of girlfriends last week, right? With Shelby Phillips?”
Oh. Blowing out a breath, I nod. “Yes! You’re so right.”
Lucy’s forehead scrunches. “I thought y’all left, but I must have heard wrong.”
Maybe small towns are like palaces, where gossip rules the day. Hopefully they weren’t talking about it because they know I’m a princess. Topher won’t want me to stay here if that’s the case—andpoof!There would go my entire plan.
I pick up my fork and push my mostly eaten pancakes around on the plate. “People were talking about us?” I try to keep the question casual.
“Oh, not like that.” Lucy turns and leans against the railing. I’m a wee bit surprised she’s still talking to me, but it’s the middle of the week and the restaurant is not terribly crowded at the moment. “My uncle Burt knows Shelby and I met her once before. And my aunt Janine owns The Purple Seashell—you know, the local inn?”
Oh, I know it, considering it’s the only place to stay in town unless you count a few house rentals and condos. Thankfully, it’s tasteful and adorable, and has a prime location at the northern end of Main Street, right on the sand where the boardwalk ends. “That’s so fun that you’ve got family here.”
“That’s not always the word I’d use for it.” Lucy’s lips twitch at what’s obviously a joke. “So are you alone, then?”
For now. I glance at my mobile on the table. It still hasn’t buzzed—surprising, since I texted Topher at midnight last night upon arriving in Hallmark Beach. Asked him to call when he had a moment. Of course, being a prince who is training to become king keeps him very busy. Add on his upcoming wedding to American fitness instructor Lauren Everly and the man’s hardly got two minutes to rub together.
This is the only potential wrinkle in my plan—Topher’s ability to participate. And it’s not exactly aminorwrinkle.
