Chapter 9

Garrett

Lola is the strangest woman I’ve ever been on a date with, but despite that—or maybe because of it—she is absolutely fascinating. So fascinating that I find myself trailing her out of the patisserie like a lost puppy—with Bastian pulling up the rear—and I don’t even mind. How can I when every second with her is an adventure? I never know what she’s going to do or say next.

Which would be a problem if I were still the Crown Prince, whose every word and action has to be planned out ahead of time. But since I’m just the spare these days, it’s perfectly acceptable. God knows when Kian was the spare, he did way less princely things than go out with an unpredictable woman.

If only Michael could see me now, looking on the bright side of this whole demotion thing. He’d be so proud.

Lola stops right outside the door of the patisserie, where Bryce and Samuel are waiting for us, and pops open the top of the pastry box. “Pick anything you want,” she tells them with a grin. “Except the caramel macarons.”

“But caramel macarons are my favorite,” Bastian teases.

She narrows her eyes at him. “Well, then, you should have made that known inside the bakery.” But she reaches into the box and pulls one out. I’m certain she’s going to hand it to him—and I think he is too—right up until she pops it into her mouth with a grin.

She chews for a few seconds, then covers her mouth with a hand and says around a mouthful of cookie, “Now you can have anything in the box. Including the last caramel macaron.”

“I think I’ll go for the fruit tart instead,” Bastian tells her.

She swallows, then makes a little clicking noise with her mouth. “Smart move, my man. Smart move.”

I laugh. I can’t help it. She’s just so utterly removed from any experience I’ve ever had before that I don’t know what else to do. I’m part awestruck, part spellbound, and surprisingly all in. Maybe Michael was right—maybe finding something that I want besides the throne is exactly what I need to start to heal. Then again, I’d settle for something as simple as being able to sleep for more than an hour at a time…

Lola waits as the others grab their coffees and desserts, then she once again takes off down the street without a word. And, once again, I’m left trailing after her, wondering what the hell she’s up to now. Not that I’m complaining—considering how fantastic her ass looks in her tight black pants, I am more than happy to follow wherever she decides to go.

I catch up with her after a couple of minutes, and we walk in companionable silence for the next six or seven blocks. Despite it being a resort destination, I’ve only been to this town a few times, so I don’t have any real idea of where we’re going. Lola seems to have a purpose, though, so I’m content to let her lead. My whole life I’ve always had to be the one in charge, and there’s something kind of nice about ceding control of this date to her. Something kind of nice about just waiting to see where she will take us.

It turns out she’s taking us to a park at the edge of the town square. The park is closed—it closes at dusk—but that doesn’t stop Lola. Of course it doesn’t. Instead, she says, “Hold this,” and hands me the pastry box. Then she kicks off her heels and throws them over the gate before shimmying after them like a parkour master.

“Here, hand me the pastries,” she says, reaching over the gate for the box. “And the coffees.”

Behind me, one of my detail lets out a choked little sound, and I glance back to see the three of them wearing huge, shit-eating grins. The traitors. I shoot them all a glare, then turn back to Lola. “I’m pretty sure members of the monarchy are supposed to obey all citywide ordinances.”

“This from the man claiming squatter’s rights the other day?”

“That ordinance is still on the books, thank you very much. As is the one closing this park at seven tonight.” I point at the sign she is willfully ignoring. “Maybe we could enjoy our dessert back at my villa, or—”

“Your villa? Are you trying to get into my pants?”

“I am…not?” It comes out sounding like a question, so I clear my throat and put a little more conviction into my voice. “I mean, I would certainly like to get into your pants at some point in the not-so-distant future, but right now my only objective is to keep us from being arrested. So…”

More choking noises come from behind me, but I don’t bother turning around to see who it is. Because, seriously, at this point who can blame them? Right now I’m about as far from smooth as I can possibly get. I take a moment to be grateful Kian isn’t here to see this disaster.

“So, what you’re saying is, you’re afraid?” Lola asks.

“Excuse me?”

She wiggles her eyebrows at me. “Are. You. Afraid?”

“Afraid? No. Of course I’m not afraid. I just don’t think it sets a good precedent for the man who is second in line for the throne to go around flouting laws, even if they are just city ordinances. It gives the impression that I think I’m above the law and I don’t. I’m not.”

“Flouting the law? By climbing a park fence?”

“It’s the principle of the matter.”

“Is it really?” She crosses her arms, giving me a look that can only be described as taunting. “Or is it that you don’t know how to climb a fence?”

“Of course I know how to climb a fence! I’m a prince, not an imbecile.”

“You sure about that? Because from where I’m standing…”

“You don’t actually think you can goad me into doing this, do you?”

“I don’t know. Can I?”

“I’m not a child.”

“Hmmmm.” She tilts her head to the side and studies me for a few seconds. “Okay, then.” She grabs the bottom hem of her blouse and pulls it up and off in one clean sweep.

This time it’s not only my security detail making choked noises. “What are you doing?” I demand.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” She reaches for her waistband.

“Stop that!” I don’t mind her getting naked—hell, I’m more than happy to watch any striptease Lola wants to put on. But not in full view of my security detail, or anyone else who might happen to be walking by.

I don’t think anyone followed us from the restaurant—since the kidnapping, citizens and reporters alike have been pretty respectful of my non-public time. Especially since Bastian and Samuel are really good at intimidating anyone who chooses not to be as respectful. But that doesn’t mean some guy isn’t out walking his dog or stumbling home from a local bar. The last thing I want is for Lola’s beautiful, naked body to be plastered all over every social media platform in the world.

She obviously doesn’t have the same concerns, though. “Stop what?” she teases as she unbuttons and unzips her pants, then starts to tug them down. “Is getting naked in a public park also against city ordinance?”

“Apart from topless and nude beaches, public nudity is frowned on pretty universally, I think.” I watch as she slips her pants down her curvy legs and prepares to step out of them. “Okay, fine. Here, hold this.”

I thrust the pastry box over the fence at her, followed by our coffees. Then I grab hold of the top of the fence and push off, vaulting over it in one clean sweep that has me landing next to her on the other side.

It’s dark, but I can see her face well enough to know that this time she’s the one who is all agog, eyes and mouth wide open as she stares at me. Looks like those seven months of painstaking physical therapy were worth every drop of sweat.

“Now, will you please put your shirt back on?” I ask, dusting my hands together before taking the food containers back from her.

The shock doesn’t last long. “Technically, you didn’t climb the fence,” she says, but still, she hands me back the food and picks up her blouse.

“Don’t be bitter.” I reach out with my free hand and grab one of her glorious curls, rubbing it between my fingers as I try not to notice the black currant and honeysuckle smell of it. Of her. I haven’t wanted anyone—or anything—this badly since my rescue came through. Or, more precisely, I haven’t let myself want anyone or anything this badly since I was freed—except the throne.

The thought is as unsettling as it is captivating—kind of like Lola herself, and I can’t help wondering what would have happened if I’d met her before the abduction. Would her free-wheeling, take-no-shit attitude have attracted me as much then as it does now? Or would I have been too busy being The Crown Prince to even bother with her?

“Don’t be sanctimonious.” Still, she grins at me as she pulls her blouse back over her head. While I’m mostly relieved that she’s covered again, there’s a part of me that wishes she weren’t. That wishes I didn’t have to worry about a simple game becoming fodder for worldwide gossip headlines.

“So,” I say once she’s finished getting dressed, “now that we’ve broken at least three laws getting into this park, why are we here exactly?”

Lola tosses a mischievous look over her shoulder as she starts down the nearest path. “You’ll see.”

“Of course I will.” For a guy who’s used to leading, I’m spending an awful lot of my time following this woman. Not that I mind. Her take-charge attitude is sexy as hell.

As I trail her through the park, I hear the unmistakable sounds of my security detail scaling the fence behind me. Now that I’m responsible for three more people breaking the law, I really, really hope we don’t get outed on any of the gossip channels.

We follow the path for about five minutes before Lola turns to the right. Seconds later, a giant fountain comes into view. “Seriously?” I demand. “We did all this for a fountain?”

“Not just any fountain! This is la Fontaine des Muses!”

“I can see that.” I gesture toward the women carved into the base of the fountain, illuminated even now that the park is closed.

“Wow, don’t sound so enthusiastic.” She plops down on the wide rim of the fountain that’s obviously meant to double as a bench. “Do you not like the muses or something?”

“I like the muses just fine,” I answer, even though I’ve never thought about them one way or the other before. “I’m just trying to figure out why this fountain is any better than the one across from the patisserie. You know, the one that isn’t behind a locked gate?”

“Are you telling me that I finally know something about this country that the great Prince Garrett, His Royal Hotness himself, doesn’t know? Have I finally hit on something that your encyclopedic knowledge of Wildemar hasn’t covered?”

“I’m going to go with yes. Short of the fountain on the palace grounds, I’m going to say my education is sorely lacking when it comes to fountain lore here in Wildemar.”

“Fountain lore!” She laughs a little, clapping her hands. “I love it!”

I settle myself next to Lola on the bench, figuring I might as well join her since this night has definitely proven that I’ve got no chance in hell of beating her. “So tell me, oh wise one. Why exactly is this fountain so special?”

“Because the locals have a tradition.” She reaches into her pocket and pulls out two coins, handing one to me.

“Throwing a coin in the fountain? That’s the big tradition?”

“It’s not just throwing a coin in the fountain! You have to kiss the coin three times and then throw it over your right shoulder. If it lands in the uppermost tier, then your fondest desire will return to you.”

“Return to you? What if you never had it to begin with?”

“Then it probably isn’t your fondest desire. You can only really want something or someone that badly if it’s already been yours—at least in some capacity.”

I think about the crown, about all the work I’ve done to be worthy of it, and wonder if Lola is right. I want it so badly because my whole life I’ve always assumed it would be mine. I shove the thought away. Lola was supposed to be a fun and interesting distraction, not a reminder of everything I’ve already lost.

As if she senses that she suddenly made everything way too heavy, Lola pushes up until she’s standing on the bench, her back to the fountain. “Are you ready to do this?” she demands.

“I think I’m going to sit this one out.” I hold the coin out to her. “You make two wishes.”

“Nope.” She actually puts her hands behind her back. “No one can have two fondest desires. You’ve got to choose and I’ve already chosen, so…”

She kisses her coin three times and then tosses it over her shoulder with the same careless joie de vivre she has when she does everything else. It goes soaring past the center tier and all the way over the fountain to land somewhere in the grass.

“Oops.” She grins at me.

“Here, take mine. Try again.”

“Nope, fair’s fair. It’s your turn.”

I don’t want to do this. It’s stupid. Ridiculous, even, how much I don’t want to do this. Not because I don’t have a fondest desire, but because the one I do have is so huge, so overwhelming, that losing it has devastated me—even more so than being abducted and tortured did. I’m terrified that wishing it back might kill whatever small part of my soul I still have left.

But I’m not about to wuss out, not when Lola is watching me, all bright eyes and I-dare-you-to-do-it. With a grimace, I do as she instructed and kiss the coin three times, then turn my back to the fountain.

“Let it rip!” Lola crows and I do, tossing the stupid coin over my shoulder like this whole thing doesn’t matter at all. Which it doesn’t, I remind myself as the coin makes a small splashing noise.

“Can we have dessert now?” I ask, trying not to sound as testy as I feel. It’s absurd for me to feel this annoyed about participating in some local tradition, but I do. I am.

“Don’t you want to know where it landed?” she asks, eyes roaming over my face in the dim light.

“Not even a little bit.”

She thinks about that for a second, even opens her mouth like she’s going to argue with me. But in the end, she just shrugs and lifts the lid on the pastry box. “Lemon tart?”

It’s just one more reason I like this girl so much more than I should.