Allie stared longingly at the three pizzas lining the counter. The cooking staff had prepared them for the photographers to shoot, and the smell was unbelievable. Who knew pears and blackberries could go on a pizza? This adventure had already taught her all sorts of things about the world beyond the diner walls. She couldn’t believe she was going to have lunch with some of the hottest men on the planet.

Speaking of superstars …

Allie ran her hand over her silky locks. The makeover session had been fun. They didn’t try to cut her hair, but added a shine spray to what she’d done with a flat iron that morning. With a brushing of mineral powder and a lip stain that was supposed to last through eating a pizza, she’d been pronounced ready to meet Mark, Beau, and Anthony.

Her stomach tumbled.

A beautiful woman with a baby bump came through the front doors. She moved like a model, all poise and posture, heading straight for Kate. George put his phone in his back pocket. She’d given him the silent treatment when he offered to see how long that lip stain could really last.

“All right.” Kate lifted her hands to get their attention.

Allie sat up taller.

“What we’re looking for here is a big entrance. Can you do the whole scream and flutter your hand bit?” she asked Allie.

Allie made a face. “Are you for real?”

“I can tell it’s not your MO, but this video will be used to raise awareness for Teens on Target. A little theatrics can go a long way.”

Allie thought of the kids who had painted her building. They’d given up a Saturday to beautify Atlanta, and for her—even if they didn’t specifically know her. The least she could do was flutter. “Yeah—I mean, if it will help the kids.”

Kate relaxed. “Thanks. The guys are almost ready.” She took two steps away and pressed her phone to her ear.

George rubbed his hands together. “This is gonna be epic.” He glanced over her and licked his lips.

You’re a pig. Allie stuffed her hands in her pockets. At least, she tried to stuff her hands in her pockets. The tight jeans made it a struggle. She offered up a quick prayer that the extra hotel room had been made available. Turning to the pregnant woman who had taken a seat at the nearest table, Allie said, “Hi.”

“Hello.” Her words had a soft accent to them, making her sound as exotic as she looked.

“I hope I look as good as you when I’m pregnant,” Allie blurted.

“Thank you. Are you married?”

“Me? Oh no. I mean, I was, but he turned out to be a tool.”

“Really?” The woman cocked her head.

“Yeah. Anytime I wanted to throw money away, I used him. Well, more like he used me.” She paused. “Maybe I was the tool.”

“No way—you’re too good for the likes of him.” She flicked her hand as if flicking away Reed.

If only getting rid of him had been that easy. “Enough about me—tell me about this little one—boy or girl?”

“I haven’t found out.” She leaned in, drawing Allie closer with a wave of her hand. “To tell you the truth, I’m scared to death to be a mom.”

Allie placed a hand on her shoulder. “You’re going to be a great mom.”

She blinked. “You’re just saying that because you are good. You don’t know.”

Allie laughed. “I do too know. You’re kind. That’s one of the biggest requirements.”

She looked down and rubbed her belly. “I needed those words. Thank you.”

“Anytime. Did you win a raffle too?” asked Allie, hoping they could spend the afternoon together. Meeting one super-hot guy would be hard enough, but three of them was just overwhelming. Until this moment, she hadn’t given much thought to what she’d say, but now the idea of making small talk for an hour and half was daunting.

The woman gave her a quizzical look.

“Okay,” called Kate as if there was a room full of rowdy customers instead of the three of them. “It’s time. That curtain will open and you’ll have your little freak-out and then you can order whatever kind of pizza you want and eat. After that, we’ll sign autographs and you’ll be checked into the hotel.”

“I thought we’d have more time,” grumbled George.

“That’s all the time allotted for today,” Kate said while looking at her pad as if the discussion weren’t worth arguing over.

Allie took mental notes of how Kate handled George’s whining. Too often, she’d been bowled over by customers as they asked for an extra dollop of whipped cream or—heaven forbid—gravy, and ended up paying for the extras out of her pocket. Not anymore. She was going to adopt Kate’s technique and put an end to the pushers and takers in the café.

Kate counted down from three, and the curtain parted to reveal three of the most beautiful men Allie had ever seen. First was the athlete, Anthony. He wore a tight-fitting Braves shirt that accentuated his muscles and complemented his dark skin, along with a pair of jeans.

Next was Beau Mckay. Though he was seriously good-lookin’ in his well-fitted jeans and button-up shirt, Allie was surprised to see a touch of gray at his temples and wrinkles around his mouth. In his movies, he still appeared fresh out of acting school, though his skills were far beyond a beginner.

Lastly, though certainly not least, was Mark Dubois. It was a good thing Allie had started on the other end of the trio, or her eyes would have never gotten past Mark. His hair, longer on top and shaved on the sides, was boy-next-door adorable, while his turquoise blue eyes electrified her heart, shocking the organ into palpitations. His broad shoulders and trim waist were draped in easygoing faded jeans and a white T-shirt that pulled across his muscles. Holy moly, the guy was face-fanning hot.

Speaking of face-fanning, Kate was waving at her to get on with the freak-out.

For the teens. “Eeeeee!” Allie did a little hopping dance and then went right ahead and fanned her face. She needed it more than she would admit out loud. She sighed heavily, placing her other hand over her heart.

Her squeal startled George into action. He stepped in front of Allie and thrust his hand out for Anthony to take. In no time, he was pumping arms like he was running for governor.

Allie held back, letting him have his moment. After all, neither one of them would be here if he hadn’t bought that raffle ticket in the first place. Plus, she wasn’t sure what to say. Hi, I’m Allie, would you like gravy on that? was all that came to mind.

When he got to Beau, George slapped him on both shoulders. “I can’t believe it’s you. Say the line—go on, say it!”

Beau’s mouth twisted wryly. How many times had he performed this for fans? Poor guy. Allie shook her head. Wait, this was Beau Mckay—Atlanta’s self-proclaimed player. Poor little rich guy indeed.

Dipping his chin and lowering his voice, Beau said, “You only cross that line once.”

George threw his arms in the air. “Yes! That was awesome.”

Beau chuckled. Gesturing to Mark, he said, “This is my good friend Mark Dubois.”

“Of course!” George stepped forward and gave Mark a man hug he wasn’t quite ready for. Mark pounded him on the back, and George coughed hard. Allie bit her cheek to keep from smiling.

“You’re my favorite on-screen cop.” George stared at Mark like he was a real hero and didn’t just play one in the movies. “I mean, you must really shoot. You handle a gun like you’ve been trained.”

“He does,” stepped in Beau. “Mark, tell him about going through FBI training while you two order pizza.”

Mark smiled, but his tight jaw and cocked shoulder told Beau he was in trouble.

“Anthony, you coming?” asked George, too excited to let this baseball guy out of his sight.

She watched Mark walk away, a very happy moment indeed, for his backside was just as beautiful as his—

“And who might you be?” Beau put his arm around her waist.

Allie looked up and into his alluring hazel eyes. He’d turned on the on-screen charm he used to seduce women, and she played along … for the kids. Giggling, because the room was tipping, she placed her hand on his well-defined chest. “I’m, like, your biggest fan.” She quickly removed her hand and pressed her palm over her mouth to stop twittering.

Beau’s smile warmed considerably. “Let’s get a table.”

“Don’t you want pizza?” Allie really wanted pizza. She was lightheaded enough from lack of food, and all these muscles in one area weren’t helping.

“I’ll have them bring some to the table.” He pulled out her chair and motioned to one of the servers in a white chef’s coat.

Allie twisted in her seat to watch the guys watch their pizza cook. Mark turned at the same moment, and their eyes met. A sweet charge shot through her belly and she froze in place, worried that if she moved she’d wake up in her bed. Mark winked, and she melted against the chair. That was so not fair. No man should have that kind of power at his disposal.

A server appeared with several pizza pies, which he placed in front of them. “Can I get you a drink?” he asked Beau.

“I think the lady should order first.”

“I’ll take a water, please.”

Beau chuckled, the cleft in his chin deepening. “I’m buying, so order whatever you want.”

“Thanks, but I don’t drink.”

He shrugged, ordered beers for the rest of the table, and turned his full attention on her again. “Hi.”

“Hi,” she half whispered, uncomfortable under his attention. Not uncomfortable like she was with George. That was repulsion mixed with the panic of having a spider in your hair. This uncomfortable feeling came from knowing he could see right through her act. Like he knew she wasn’t some fancy-pants woman.

The other three took their seats around the table, with Mark ending up on her left. He smelled of some manly cologne and leather. Heaven help me. Where does a guy pick up the smell of leather? Beau was bad enough with his cocky grin and expensive cologne, but she could write him off as a man looking for a fling.

Mark was something else altogether. He was … interesting.

Taking a deep breath, she reminded herself that today was about living like the other half, about being in a fairy tale, and by darn it she had on her sparkle pants. She was on the verge of introducing herself to Mark with a confident handshake when Beau leaned forward.

“Anthony, Mark, this is Allie and she doesn’t drink,” said Beau.

Allie gave them all her brightest smile. “I do eat, though. Pass me a slice, will you?” She directed her words to Anthony—the least threatening of the three because of the ring on his left hand.

She should have sat by him. Way less pressure over there.

George would have killed her, though. He was as enamored as a fifteen-year-old boy and just as ready to shove her to the ground for talking to his Anthony. He took a large bite and then talked around the food. “How’d spring training go this year, Anthony?”

The guys leaned over the table, reminding Allie of her older brother and his friends. She leaned back, enjoying the meal, content to let George have his moment. At least with him here, she didn’t have to make conversation.

Just as she took a large bite of pizza, Mark turned to her and asked, “Are you a baseball fan?”

Choking, she took a sip of water to clear her throat. Mark Dubois was looking at her with his vibrant blue eyes, guarded though they were. Although what he thought he needed protection from she didn’t know. Nor did she understand how she got that vibe from him so easily. Taking in his broad shoulders and sinewy forearms, she assumed he could protect himself just fine without having to put up walls.

She wouldn’t mind being protected by those arms. Stifling a giggle, she took another drink of water before she realized she hadn’t answered him. “I’m sorry, what did you ask?”

* * *

Mark inclined his head. When the curtain had opened and Allie squealed, he’d brushed her off as another crazed fan. But when their eyes met across the restaurant, he’d practically tripped into her gaze. That had never happened before—not to him.

“Do you like baseball?” he repeated, wondering if he’d stuttered. He might have; his tongue was thick.

“Sure, go Braves.” Her fist punched the air and stayed there. After a moment, she tucked her palms under her legs.

“What do you like to do?” he tried again.

Glancing up at him from lowered lashes, she practically whispered, “I don’t really know.”

Interesting. Was she a workaholic? Was she dating someone? “What’s your job?” Usually the fans were the ones peppering him with questions, but he couldn’t stop them from coming. Allie glowed. Not in the glimmer-and-gloss way that Aspen liked, but there was this light that she put out in the world. He couldn’t explain how, and yet she was shining away like a beacon.

“I’m a waitress.”

A waitress? He looked her over. She didn’t look like any waitress he’d ever seen. “Not your dream job?” he ventured.

“Heavens no.” She reached for the crust left on her plate and tore off small bits, her hands trembling.

Her response left him wondering what she would do if she could do what she wanted. Did she have a dream job? Did she have dreams? “What do you do on your days off?”

Allie stared at him. “Do you really want to know? I mean, you don’t have to talk to me if you’d rather talk to them.” She gestured towards the guys.

Mark stared back. He hadn’t met a person so unassuming in his life. “I really want to know,” he replied, leaning closer.

“All right, then.” She glanced up and then quickly away.

He wanted her gaze back, wanted that link to her, and found himself frustrated that she’d taken it away.

“I work as the maintenance person for the building I live in. So I clean out drains and stuff like that.” She made a funny face.

Mark chuckled and put his arm across the back of her chair.

“I also conduct the children’s choir at my church.” Her eyes went wide. “It’s not my church. It’s God’s church. But I go there.”

“That sounds like …” Mark searched for the right word to describe wrangling a bunch of children. “A lot of work.”

She laughed lightly, the sound sparking deep inside him, awakening feelings he hadn’t felt for a very long time. He leaned back in his seat, startled at the zing of attraction that went all the way to his toes. He studied her, wondering how a woman’s beauty could be as effortless as it was downright gorgeous.

“Oh, there’s work involved, but those kids are the best part of my week. They’re so sweet and love to sing and move, and they’re so full of love. They don’t care if you’re a washed-up, divorced waitress or a bloomin’ billionaire—they just want to spend time with someone who thinks they’re wonderful.” She ducked her head. “I’m rambling.”

“No, you’re talking and it’s … nice.” Mark scooted as close to her as he could and still remain on his chair. He took a long swig from his drink to relieve the sudden dryness in his mouth. “What’s your favorite song to sing with the kids?”

“‘Build an Ark,’” she replied without hesitation.

He could easily guess the subject matter, so he asked, “Why?”

“Because it has a great message and an upbeat tempo so the kids can wiggle and dance. We made up all these movements. It’s fun.”

Mark discreetly admired her long hair and thin frame. He could imagine her being silly and singing about Noah and two-by-twos and rain, but he very much wanted to know if the image in his head resembled the real deal. “Let me hear it.”

“Oh, I couldn’t.” She turned rosy red. Her eyes darted to the guy she’d come with. He was showing Anthony a scar on his forearm and bragging about sliding into third base.

“Just a few lines,” Mark encouraged quietly. “I have a daughter, she—maybe she’d enjoy learning the song too.”

She sucked in as if she could draw courage through her breath, before nodding. He’d sing this song a thousand times with Chloe, just to remember the blush on Allie’s cheeks.

Allie cleared her throat. “I can be like Noah …” she began. Her voice was pure and sweet. Gaining confidence as she went, she did little hand movements for each line, her eyes dancing and her body swaying, putting on a performance that drew in the guys on the other side of the table. Their conversation stopped.

Mark had the insane desire to move with her. No wonder the kids loved her. She was—he stopped dead in his thoughts—real.

Allie wiggled her fingers and waving her hands to imitate rain. When she finished, the whole table clapped and she turned bright pink—just like he thought she would. The sight made his heart pound against his rib cage.

“Do you sing professionally?” asked Beau.

“No. Well, I did a few musicals in high school and at the local theater, but that was a long time ago.” She fumbled with her napkin, clearly uncomfortable being the center of attention.

“Beau, what’s your latest movie?” George asked, and the conversation changed.

Mark nudged her with his shoulder, the contact zinging right to his gut and then bouncing around. “You should try performing somewhere. At least karaoke—it’s obvious you love to sing.”

“Thanks, but that ship sank a few years ago.”

“You could—” Mark was cut off by Kate, who appeared in front of their table.

“Has everyone had enough to eat?” She didn’t wait for a response. “Okay then, let’s come over here and get those autographs going.”

George pouted like a five-year-old as he got out of his seat. Mark reached out to put his hand on the small of Allie’s back and yanked it back at the last second. Stuffing his hands in his pockets seemed like a good idea.

She checked her phone.

“Are you in a hurry?”

She tucked the phone guiltily into her back pocket all covered with sparkles—yeah, he’d checked out her backside. He was a guy, okay? “Just excited to get to the hotel and soak in a tub.”

The conversation with Kate about the additional hotel room came to mind. Had Allie asked for the extra room, or was that George? Probably George. He’d dropped several hints about making lunch a standing monthly get-together or meeting up for a game sometime.

Mark glanced down and found a baseball in Allie’s hand. For Anthony, no doubt. And there would be a T-shirt or glossy photo for him to sign too. He’d been temporarily blinded by her cute choir director performance. But in the end, Allie was just like everyone else who wanted a piece of him. At least he’d seen a flicker of truth in her. But, he cautioned himself, a flicker wasn’t enough to sustain a relationship of true value.

Except his gut told him that Allie was different in all the right ways.

* * *

Allie handed the baseball to Anthony. “Can you make that out to José, please?”

Anthony poised the sharpie over the ball. “Sure. Is that your son?”

“He’s my friend’s son. He’s the cutest kid in the world and he’s probably your biggest fan.” Excitement to give José the baseball built inside her chest and bubbled out as a laugh. “He’ll probably sleep with it. This is going to make his year.”

“Has he been to a game?” asked Anthony.

“He has a hard time sitting still.”

“Sounds like a kid; you should take him,” said Mark. He’d stuck close to her side and at one point Allie swore he’d touched her back. When she turned, his hand was in his pocket. Maybe she’d only been hoping for the contact.

Allie shook her head slightly. “He has autism and a few other health problems. Getting him to his social group is a major effort. He couldn’t sit in the stadium seats for long.”

A deep line appeared between Mark’s brows. “Where’s his social group?”

“At Aaron’s Home for Autistic Children. They have a craft class on Fridays that he loves.”

Anthony handed her back the baseball. “Maybe I could help with that.” He gestured to the pregnant woman Allie had talked to about being a mom. She’d hung out in the corner with Kate and a few of the other staff members during the lunch. Maybe she was Anthony’s personal assistant. That would explain the funny look she gave when Allie asked if she’d won a contest too. She glided over to their group—seriously so graceful.

“Did we give away all the VIP tickets yet?” Anthony asked.

She placed her hand on Anthony’s arm. Not in a possessive way, but in an I-can-hardly-stand-being-so-close-and-not-touching-you way. Allie glanced down to see their matching rings. Oh! Not his personal assistant, his wife. She watched the two of them discuss the ticket situation all while having a whole other conversation—one that asked how she was feeling, she replied that she was tired but happy to be here, and he said I love you—all without speaking a word.

Allie pressed her hand against her chest, where an ache for someone to love like that opened a hole. She’d thought Reed would be her one and only forever and always, but he wasn’t. Giving up that dream of someone to love had been harder than giving up that no-good cheat.

Allie stole a glance at Mark. Falling into eye-conversations wouldn’t be difficult with him. Her cheeks burned. She shouldn’t even entertain thoughts like that about him. Different universes.

“I think we have a few left, why?” asked Leticia.

“There’s a kid named José who needs to see a home game.” Anthony brushed his wife’s hair over her shoulder.

Surprised by his generosity, Allie waved her hands. “You don’t have to do that, really—the baseball will be more than enough.”

“Nonsense, let me get your address and I’ll have them sent over. They’re box seats.”

Allie held up her hands. “What does that mean?”

“It means he’ll have a couch to watch the game from,” said Anthony.

“That’s really so sweet of you.” Allie knew she was gushing, but there was no stopping the torrent of gratitude. “He posts the schedule on his bedroom door every season and marks who won and who lost, and he talks about the players like he knows them. He’s going to flip out.”

“Are you going with him?” asked Mark, his eyebrows drawn together.

“Me? No way. His mom should go.” Allie laughed. “Who do you think taught him all the players’ names?”

Mark frowned.

Allie glanced at the group. George looked like he could lock her behind bars forever. Oops. “Selina is one of my heroes—the kind of person who’s handed a tough life and thanks the good Lord for the privilege.”

The group stood there, staring at Allie. She folded her shoulders in, embarrassed.

“Did you have something for me to sign?” asked Beau, stepping into her personal space. She smiled. Beau’s attention was flattering—kind of nice to know a guy who dated supermodels wasn’t repulsed by an everyday waitress, but he wasn’t what she was looking for.

“I didn’t.” Allie furrowed her brow. “I feel horrible. I didn’t think I’d upset y’all if I didn’t bring something for everyone.” She didn’t mention that she’d given her two other slots to George. He was happily chatting up Mark about sports cars.

Beau grabbed a napkin. “How about José’s mom—maybe she’d like an autograph?”

“I think she’d swoon.” Allie laughed.

“Maybe I should give her this in person, then.” Beau’s charm went up three notches.

“That might trigger a heart attack.”

“How old is she?”

“She’s in her late forties.”

“That’s a little older than I usually date—but …” Beau’s hazel eyes danced.

“Probably a good idea to steer clear; she could be more woman than you can handle,” Allie teased back.

To her surprise, Beau hugged her. He had to bend down to get his arms around her, and the experience brought to mind being hugged by a bear, he was so darn big, but the sentiment behind the contact was sweet, brotherly even.

She turned her head on Beau’s shoulder and met Mark’s gaze. While Beau may be easy to joke with, Mark was the one who truly put her at ease. At ease enough to sing in front of men who took the stage for a living.

Yes, Mark’s strong jaw, piercing blue eyes, and overwhelming physique left her mind spinning and her temperature rising, but his sincere interest had drawn her into a place she hadn’t intended to go. Goodness sakes, she’d never be able to go to a Slade McCoy movie again without melting into a pool of popcorn butter and desire.

“Do you want me to sign something too?” Mark asked. There was an edge to his question that took her off guard.

Despite knowing this would be her last conversation with the famous movie star, Allie couldn’t help but blush. “Sorry, I’m all out of napkins.”

Mark’s shoulders fell—like she’d hurt his feelings. Poor famous Hollywood star. There were probably fifty women outside right now who would love to have his autograph. Little ol’ Allie Gray couldn’t hurt his feelings … could she? She watched him from the corner of her eye as he thanked Kate and the others who made this all possible.

Kate ushered George and her through the growing number of fans and into the limo. Allie glanced over her shoulder for one last glimpse of the life she was never meant to live but had been gifted for one afternoon. As nice as they all were, Mark was the only one she would have stood outside a restaurant in the Georgia heat for the opportunity to see again.

Maybe she should have had him sign the back of her shirt just so that when she was back to being a waitress at a run-down café, she could remember how it felt to have Mark DuBois’s undivided interest tingle over her skin as she sang.

* * *

The inside of the limo was dark and Allie’s eyes took a moment to adjust. When they did, she found George leaning way too close, a conspiratorial look in his eye. “That was a great time.”

“It was. Thanks for the tip.” Allie leaned her head against the seat, soaking in the clean carpet scent and the feel of rich leather against her skin. Leather, like Mark. He must have leather seats in his car and that’s how he picked up the scent. Sensuous warmth ran through her veins as the pictured him driving off, wearing his shades, his strong jaw flexing as he maneuvered deftly through downtown traffic.

George leaned his shoulder against hers, jerking her out of her daydream. “I have a girl on standby, but if you say the word, you can stay the night with me.”

Ew! “No, thank you.” Allie scooted closer to the door.

Kate cleared her throat. “There are a couple points we need to go over.”

“What about you, sweetheart? Wanna spend the night at the Ritz?” George winked, his ears wiggled.

Kate stared him down until George slunk into his own corner of the car. When he was sufficiently subdued, Kate continued, “The room is covered, but you’ll need to give them a credit card for incidentals.”

“No way!” George bolted up in his seat. “They aren’t covering room service or anything? Cheap sons of a—”

Kate cleared her throat.

Allie pressed her fist to her stomach. Her credit card had disappeared with her ex-husband. The bill, however, showed up on the fifteenth of every month. The company shut down the card, but there were still a couple thousand dollars’ worth of charges to clear up. In the meantime, she couldn’t qualify for a new one.

Now what was she going to do? With her apartment covered in noxious fumes, she’d be sleeping on the side of the road.

“You have a hundred-dollar limit for incidentals. Any amount over that will need to be covered by you.”

George grumbled but didn’t argue further.

Allie faced the window, where the girl staring back at her turned green. The car slowed to a stop in front of the Ritz.

Kate pointed to George. “This is your stop.” She turned to Allie. Her face had a softness that she didn’t offer to George, and Allie was grateful she was still on Kate’s good side. She might not be after she explained her credit card situation. Sleeping in the bathtub was looking like a viable option.

“If you’ll wait here, I’ll be back in just a moment.”

Kate was back in less than five minutes. Her steps were lighter than before, no doubt happy to be rid of the officer because he wasn’t much of a gentleman.

“Whew.” Kate swiped the hair off her forehead. “We’ll get you all tucked in for the night. I’m sorry we couldn’t get you a room here.”

“It’s okay, really,” Allie assured her.

Kate plucked at her skirt. “The hotel is … less than ideal. We can drop you off at home if you’d rather take a cash voucher.”

Allie shook her head. “My apartment building is being fumigated and I can’t go back for twenty-four hours. I’m really grateful for the spare room—I don’t care what hotel it’s at.”

“You might once you see it,” muttered Kate.

Allie brushed her worries aside. She would lock herself in the room and not come out until morning if need be. Anyplace was better than the street. “Listen.” She scooted forward in her seat. “I have a confession.”

“What’s that?” Kate cocked her head.

The words tumbled out. “I don’t have a credit card. I promise I won’t eat so much as a bag of nuts and I won’t turn on the television. I’ll just take a bath and go to bed early.”

Kate waved her off. “I’m not worried about you. George would have cost us the whole budget and then some if I’d given him free rein, but you’ll be fine. Use the hundred dollars—order some macadamia nuts or whatever they have to offer.”

Relief washed over her like warm bathwater on a cold day. She hated having this credit issue hang over her. Facing the issue again had taken all the confidence she’d gained talking with Mark and smashed it deep down inside where she lost sight of who she could have been. Reed shouldn’t have that much influence over her anymore, and yet somehow, someway, he managed to darken even her fairy-tale afternoon.

What she needed was a big dose of Mark. She blushed just thinking about him. Unfortunately, the clock had struck midnight and she’d turned into a pumpkin. Or maybe she was the mouse, timid and vulnerable. Either way, she wasn’t the princess.

They pulled to a stop outside of a two-story hotel with a broken front door and window units leaving stains under every window. Gritting her teeth, she steeled herself to sleep with the lights on to keep the cockroaches at bay.

She was back to her reality, and she might as well get used to it.