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“How about church tomorrow?” she asked, then wished she’d bit her tongue.
“I would love to go to church with you tomorrow,” he smoothly answered, covering any awkwardness. “Can I take you and your mum out to lunch after?”
“We’ll cook you brunch,” she said, though she wished she hadn’t. That meant he’d still see where she lived, but at least she could stay up tonight running loads of laundry down the stairs to the basement laundromat and scouring the apartment while she waited for them to finish washing. Tomorrow she could wake up early and cook and bake and maybe impress him with her homemaking skills? Gah! What did a wealthy prince care about the girl he was dating being able to bake a decent loaf of sourdough?
“Thank you. What time shall I pick you up for church?”
“It starts at ten, but my mom won’t fit in this car with us.” She laughed unsteadily, but at least she was trying to keep it light.
“No worries. We’ll steal Ollie’s SUV.” He gestured his head toward the Porsche.
“Okay.” She paused, then said quietly, “Thank you, Derek.”
Their gazes met and held, and she could see he wasn’t thrilled she’d begged off eating together tonight, but at least they had a plan for tomorrow. She didn’t know how to date, and especially how to date a prince. If she couldn’t even eat dinner with him, how could she fly to his country and participate in some swanky wedding? It seemed like a dream to pretend to be a princess until you actually walked into the situation and stood out like a red pimple on a model-gorgeous face. What had she roped herself into?
“Let me carry your groceries to your door and grab you and your mum’s dinners from Braxton and Ollie.”
She nodded, not sure how to refuse that.
She, Derek, and Braxton carried the sacks of food up the three flights of stairs and set them by her apartment door.
Braxton lifted a hand and eased back to the stairwell. He kept Derek in his line of sight, his hand resting on his suit jacket. Did he think one of her neighbors would spring out to attack Derek and he’d have to shoot them? She looked around at the dingy, once-white walls and the scuffed cement floor and water damage on the ceiling, and she didn’t really blame Braxton. She was comfortable here and usually felt safe, but the apartment hallway looked like the place in movies where the good guy was attacked.
“Thank you for dinner,” she said to Derek. She wanted to thank him for being so understanding but worried that would give him an opening to ask about her issues and fears and embarrassments.
She yanked her keys out and nervously tried to fit one in the deadbolt key hole, but her hands were shaking. How humiliating.
Derek wrapped his warm palm around the back of her hand and gently helped her open the lock.
“Thank you,” she murmured, pulling her hand free and shoving the keys back in the pocket of her running pants.
“I’ll be here at quarter to ten,” he said. “Or do I need to come earlier? Is your mum in a wheelchair?”
“Not yet. And if it’s a good day, she’ll be fine on the stairs.” She bravely met his gaze. “If it’s not a good day, she won’t come to church.”
“Oh. I’ll pray it’s a good day then.” He flashed her that irresistible smile. Her mom was going to flip out over him. What was Ellery doing, letting herself or her mom indulge in these fantasies? She was not some Disney princess story.
“Thanks,” she managed. She was out of breath, out of sorts, and she needed to get inside or she would lean up and kiss the ninja prince.
Instead, she leaned down and grasped as many bags of food as she could. Derek squatted down too, obviously intent to help her haul them in.
“Derek,” she breathed. “Please don’t. I’ll see you in the morning.”
He straightened, staring at her and rubbing at his jaw. “You are the most puzzling woman I’ve ever known.”
“Think of me as a tricky balance obstacle—always trying to keep you on your toes.”
“Are you Spinning Bridge or Razor’s Edge?” He studied her deeply. He could obviously tell there was a lot more to her defensiveness and inability to trust anyone than she wanted to share.
“Razor’s Edge, definitely.” She tried to turn the doorknob, but her hands were too full. Derek reached around her, brushing her side with his arm as he turned the knob and held the door for her. She glanced around the living area quickly, breathing a sigh of relief that her mom was already in bed. It was only eight o’clock, so that wasn’t exactly a good sign.
Setting the bags inside, she turned, holding the door with her hip, and grabbed the rest of the food. Derek hadn’t moved. He was studying her, thankfully not staring into the dimly lit apartment.
“Thanks for the Indian food,” she said brightly. “Tiki Marsala may be my favorite food on earth.”
“You’re welcome.” He gave her the most forced smile she’d seen on his handsome face.
“Good night.” She pushed through the door and let it close behind her. Setting the bags on the floor, she leaned against it and listened. It was a good minute before his footsteps retreated.
