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“Why do you think I keep Braxton and Ollie around?” He gestured to his bodyguards.
“To protect you from all your adoring female fans?”
“You’re the only adoring female fan I want.”
He was too smooth. Of course he was. He was a prince.
“Let’s go shopping.” She couldn’t let him know how much of an ‘adoring female fan’ she was. She slid along the building, careful not to touch him. He looked amused, but thankfully he let her go. He walked her to his car, parked out in the open to tempt any would-be thief.
His guards climbed into a Porsche SUV parked behind his car.
“Why do you have your swanky million-dollar car parked on the street half the time when you should leave it in your high-dollar, secure parking garage?”
“I’ve been planning on my girlfriend accompanying me to dinner.” Clicking a button, he stepped up next to the passenger door as it smoothly slid open for him. He held it for her, giving her a significant, melt your heart kind of look.
“You have a girlfriend? That will be awkward when I show up on your arm at your brother’s wedding.”
He chuckled at that and helped her into the tan and black-accented leather seat of the low-slung race car. Leaning down low, he said softly, “Nothing could be awkward with you on my arm.” He winked, straightened, and shut the door.
Ellery deflated into the softest leather she’d ever touched. She wasn’t sweaty at the moment, but her dried sweat would get on this perfect car.
Derek slid in and she said, “You know how awkward I am. You’ve seen me on interviews and commercials.”
“You’re not awkward with me.” He slid sunglasses on and looked over at her. “You’re witty, unselfish, and brave.”
Her stomach swooped, and she had absolutely no response. His compliment touched her. She felt witty and brave around him. Most would probably say she was unselfish caring for her mom, but it meant a lot that he thought that. She wished he was some playboy who dated all the women who chased him so she could write off his compliments, give a snippety response, or have another reason, besides her own issues, not to trust him. He wasn’t. He was a great guy.
When she didn’t answer, he said, “Now I’m all for shopping for dresses with you if you like, but Arianna, my family’s stylist, has already been informed you’re coming. She told me you’re a size six in dresses, seven and a half in shoes …”
“How did you know that?”
“I didn’t. Arianna is a magical genie. She will have all kinds of dresses, shoes, jewelry, casual wear, toiletries, makeup, whatever a prince’s girlfriend might need, waiting for you in your suite at the castle.”
Emotion rose in her throat. He was so classy and considerate. She shouldn’t have even stressed about the awkwardness of going into Bloomingdale’s. She should correct him about the ‘prince’s girlfriend’ thing, but she didn’t want to. The idea of being his girlfriend had her as warm as the relief that she wouldn’t have to be an eyesore at the wedding, buy the wrong things, or spend her hard-earned money on clothes, shoes, or jewelry. The commercial had been quick money, but harder for her than hours of personal training.
“That is wonderful. Thank you. I hate shopping.”
He smiled. “You are a rare gem, Elle.”
He had to stop saying things like that. She wasn’t a gem at all. Why would a prince appreciate a woman who didn’t like to shop? He was a puzzle to her. A perfect puzzle.
“Sadly, we have no choice but to shop for food. Tomorrow is the Sabbath, and I try to cook and do most of my food prep on Sunday afternoon to make the week not quite so busy. This week, it’ll be food to get my mom through.” Her life was vastly different from his. She’d heard he had a personal chef who delivered meals to his penthouse when he was there, though he spent most of his time at the gym. He was perfectly fit and adept at all the ninja challenges, he’d probably buck all the trends and be the first person to win the finals twice.
“The grocery store it is, and then we’ll pick up your favorite takeout and head to your place so I can meet your mum.”
The electric supercar slid out onto the road with hardly a sound.
Ellery Monson was in a five-million-dollar race car with the most handsome prince of the century … driving to the grocery store.
“What store do you prefer?” he asked.
“Market Basket,” she murmured.
“Navigate me to Market Basket,” he told the car.
The car smoothly told him instructions, but there was no screen on the dash. This vehicle was too effortlessly beautiful and classy for a screen.
“You can’t park this exquisite car at Market Basket.”
