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“Plus, as a prince, I have to sip the princess’ mocha to make sure it’s not poisoned.”
“I’m not a princess and you’re not a prince.”
“What are you saying?” He laughed. “You don’t consider me your Prince Charming?”
I laughed as I shook my head, but the words stayed in my mind. Did he consider himself my Prince Charming? Did he want to be my Prince Charming? And what did that mean? Did it mean he wanted to be with me? Did he want to be in a relationship with me? Did he one day see himself marrying me?
Of course, I wasn’t going to ask those questions right now. We’d had a couple of kisses and one night of fun. We hadn’t even had sex yet. I definitely didn’t want to be that girl that was asking the hard questions when our situation didn’t really call for it.
“Come on.” He grabbed my hand. “Let’s go.”
“Okay. I’m coming.”
He held up a stack of papers and showed them to me.
“So I have my eye on four different horses. We’re going to go and have a look at them before the auction starts. Everyone has a chance to inspect the horses, and I want your feedback and opinion.”
“Sure, but I don’t really know what makes a good yearling better than another.”
“Temperament,” he said, “plus their pedigree. We can see who in their family has actually won races.”
“But won’t those be the most expensive horses?”
“Yes,” he nodded, “but here’s my thought. We see the traits that they have and we look for those same traits in other horses that aren’t as expensive and we bid on them.”
“Ooh, smart thinking, Wyatt Hamilton.” I looked at him with respect to my eyes. “You’ve really given this a lot of thought.”
“Of course I have,” he said, seriously. “I have $150,000 and that’s a lot of money. My whole family has gone to bat for me and they trust me, and I really want to make sure that I do them proud.”
I squeezed his hand. “You will, I promise.”
“You’re so sweet. Now come on, let’s go and see.”
“Okay.”
“Oh, that breakfast was absolutely delicious,” I said rubbing my stomach as we left the hotel.
“Thank you for sharing those Dutch apple pancakes with me. I shouldn’t have eaten them, though,” he groaned. “I feel absolutely stuffed.”
“But that’s good. At least you won’t get hungry later on.”
“That is true,” he nodded. “Okay, are you up for walking, or should I get us a cab?”
“How far is the walk?” I asked him suspiciously. I didn’t really feel like walking, but I should walk off the breakfast. I’d probably eaten about 2000 calories.
“Let me check.” He pulled up his phone. “It says that it will be a 15-minute walk. Is that okay?”
“15 minutes walking fast or 15 minutes walking slow?”
“It’s just over a mile.”
He looked at me and I looked at him with wide eyes.
“Sadie, a mile is nothing. You were on the cross-country team in high school.”
“Yeah, but I just ate a whole …” I paused, “well, a half Dutch apple pancake, and an omelet with hash browns and white toast, and I had that mocha and orange juice.”
“So you’re telling me you don’t want to walk it off?”
