Three

"What exactly is ‘roofing a house'?" Arran asked from the passenger seat of Ellie's car.

Arran's head still ached, but his heart ached worse. The idea of failing so expertly within the first hour of his planned

reformation, wounding an innocent woman, and sorting out how to crawl out of this monstrous hole of his own creation loomed

so large, it felt impossible.

What he needed was a little time. Reflection. A few days to work out a plan.

Not... whatever it was that sent him careening up a mountainside for some "project" of his brother-in-law's.

"Am I putting an actual roof on a house?" he asked.

"The shingles." Ellie pinched her lips tight in a failed effort to tame her smile. "The top of the roof has to be replaced."

He accepted this information with a nod. "Manual labor, I can do."

"Your ability has never been in question. You've proven it years before this situation with Angelica." The tenderness in Ellie's voice

drew his attention back to her. "The goal is to get your head and your heart in the right place, to match whatever future

you choose. Royal or not."

Her declaration, spoken in a gentle way, hollowed out his chest even more, nailing the earlier epiphany into painful clarity.

He'd never considered any other life.

"Here we are."

The car rolled to a stop in front of a large house made of white stone and windows, all poised in a clearing overlooking the

treetops. Layers of mountains spread on all sides, revealing threaded colors of red, orange, and yellow overtaking the evergreen.

The world in full autumn glory.

It was magnificent.

And reminded him of home.

"At least you'll have a nice view while you work." Ellie tossed him a grin as she exited the car, and Arran followed. "Maybe

it will inspire a proper perspective too."

"You used to be funnier." His brows rose in challenge, but she laughed.

"And you used to be more laid-back."

Arran opened his mouth to respond, but a noise from above caught his attention.

"Just in time."

Arran followed Ellie's gaze and cupped his hand over his eyes to shade the sun. Luke Edgewood, green ball cap on his head,

stared down at them from the housetop.

"We just finished removing the shingles and are ready to start the real work." The man's grin broadened. "But don't worry. I always start off real easy for the pampered folks."

The tip of Luke's grin disappeared into his close-shaved brown beard at the challenge, which bristled every competitive bone

in Arran's body.

So this is how his new brother-in-law wanted to work.

Arran pulled his borrowed cap out of his back pocket and crammed it down on his head. "Point me in the proper direction, and

I'll happily show you what I can do."

"I like the sound of that." Luke gestured with his chin. "The ladder's on the side of the house."

Arran bid Ellie goodbye, found his way around the side of the house, and with more of a struggle than anticipated, climbed the wobbly ladder.

The view took on an even more spectacular appearance without trees blocking the horizon, but it also highlighted how exposed

their position was.

And high.

A welcome cool breeze wafted over the tops of the trees, bringing the scent of pine... and a little waver to Arran's stance.

He pressed his feet into the roof to attempt to ground himself. Which sounded ridiculous when on a roof.

"Good to see you, Arran." Luke walked toward him as if simply stepping across pavement instead of a slanted rooftop. "We can

certainly use another hand up here."

"Seems that's what I'm here to do."

Luke rested his palms on his hips and studied Arran from cap to boots. "Well, you look the part." One of his dark brows rose.

"I reckon the right attitude will take a little longer."

The wink he added at the end somehow doused the edge of Arran's discomfort. "The work is that rigorous, is it?"

A measuring look, which somehow made Arran stand a bit taller, crossed Luke's face and his grin widened. "You may walk funny

for a few days, but I have high hopes you're gonna be just fine." Luke held Arran's gaze long enough to hint that the man's

words meant something a little deeper than not plunging to his death, and Arran embraced his current situation with a bit

more hope than a moment before.

Could this man take him at face value? Even knowing his past as Luke did?

Luke's honest confidence somehow transferred over to Arran.

Perhaps his brother-in-law wasn't such a bad sort after all.

"That's Dave." Luke waved toward a burly man nearby, his ginger hair and beard in contrast to Luke's darker features. "If I'm not around, he can answer your questions, but don't expect a conversation. He's not much for talking."

Dave nodded and turned back to his work.

Luke started across the roof, presumably for Arran to follow... with much less confident steps. "He's taking over the business

while I'm in Skymar with Ellie next year."

At one point, as Arran unknowingly veered too close to the edge of the house, Luke grabbed him by the arm and tugged him away.

"Careful there." He patted Arran's shoulder. "I promised Ellie I'd take good care of you, so you'd better watch your step."

He chuckled and led the way at a slower pace. "The rest of the team is working on another project south of town, so it's gonna

be the three of us until Charlie joins us after lunch."

The three of them? For an entire roof? Arran's gaze trailed the length of the space. Was that normal?

Another breeze drew his attention to the kaleidoscope of autumn color.

"Not a bad view for a workday, is it?"

Arran pulled his gaze from the horizon. "Not at all."

"As long as that pretty view doesn't pull you too close to the edge." Luke waved toward Dave again as the man moved over the

roofline, hammer in hand, body bent as if searching for something. "Since we already stripped the roof, we have to search

for loose nails, roof damage"—he raised a finger with each item—"or rot that may need repairing before placing on the new

roof."

Arran didn't fully comprehend all the word choices but got the basic meaning.

At least he hoped, because the last thing he wanted to do was prove more imbecilic than his actions had already shown.

He stifled a groan.

Brilliantly imbecilic. He ought to write a book: How to Make Ten Imbecilic Choices Within Hours in a New Country .

Luke pulled a hammer from the tool belt around his waist. "Ever swung a hammer?"

"A few times."

"Welp, this is a great way to get warmed up." He gestured with the hammer toward the massive roof. "Just go along this side.

If you see any nails sticking out, you'll either drive 'em back in so they're flush with the roof or pull them out if they're

loose." He pressed the hammer into Arran's outstretched hand and reached into the front pocket of his tool belt. "Here are

some nails if you have to replace any."

Maybe Arran overestimated his skill set. Walking on a roof poised atop a mountain, attempting to locate loose nails without

falling to his death as the breeze gave a mocking ruffle to his hair, tempted fate.

"Make sense?"

"Aye." Arran scanned the space, keeping his gaze from Luke's in case the man could mind-read fear. "I believe so."

"Good." Luke gave a curt nod. "It's not the steepest roof, but why don't you stay near the midline of the house, for starters?"

Arran dipped his head, and Luke walked off to work with some sort of large black sheets of... paper?

Four hours later, Arran's body ached, sweat rolled over every part of his skin, and his vocabulary had expanded with new words

like tar paper , drip edges , and flashing . Despite his love for more strenuous sports like mountain climbing, they'd failed to sufficiently prepare him for the rigor

of holding one's balance on a roof while simultaneously attempting not to tear the tar paper or knock a fellow worker to his

death.

Roofing also increased Arran's prayer life by volumes.

As Arran sat for a moment, finishing off a bottled water, Luke joined him, his own water in hand. "You might want to take your time getting out of bed in the morning. Your thighs aren't going to be happy with you."

Who needed to wait for the morning? Arran's body already ached from neck to ankles. Even his ears hurt.

"I'd take an ibuprofen or a few Tylenols tonight too." Luke raised his water to his lips. "It'll help for tomorrow. Besides,

you'll need to be ambulatory by Thursday, at least."

"Thursday?" A sudden dread doused his newfound sense of comradery.

"Shucks, I thought Ellie would've told you." He took another drink of water, in no hurry to abate Arran's curiosity, it seemed.

"It's the first fundraiser for The Mistletoe Wish, the charity you've been roped into as part of your time here."

Ah yes! One of the stipulations of his penance.

Earn an income.

Become involved in a charity.

Discover who he was and what he wanted (his own personal addition).

The first two were already in the works.

The daunting third? Well, time would tell, but as he looked out over the horizon, he embraced the desire to prove to his sister,

brother-in-law, and the poor woman he'd accosted last night that he was a better man than his first impression.

Luke stood and Arran pushed through his sore muscles and followed. "What about this fundraiser, and..." Arran's grin twitched,

seeking some levity to counterbalance the sudden desire to wince at the pain shooting up his legs. "Did you say ‘mistletoe'?"

"Don't get any ideas, Romeo." Luke raised a brow. "The word mistletoe was chosen because of what it stands for, not for the smooching it inspires."

"Stands for?"

"The idea comes from our Appalachian-Scottish heritage. You see, because mistletoe can withstand harsh winters, it was revered

as a symbol of resilience, protection, and love. Which fits what we hope to instill in the children served by the charity."

He walked over to the edge of the roof and dropped his bottle over the side and into a rubbish pile they'd been collecting

throughout the day. "But Charlie will be able to tell you more about it. She's the reluctant coordinator this year."

Oh, so this Charlie was a woman?

And resilience, protection, and love? Worthy aspirations. Heroic, even.

"So, a Christmas charity?"

"Sure is. The towns of Mount Airy and Ransom get involved. Thursday is just the beginning of a set of fundraisers. You're

helping set up the booth at the Ransom Fall Festival. It always happens the weekend of the carnival."

A festival and a carnival? Arran's muscles rejoiced in unison. He could manage those.

"Booths run up and down Main Street, with the carnival set up just at the edge of the town. With all the tourists and visitors,

it's a great time to raise money for The Wish."

"I've always enjoyed a good carnival."

"Don't get too comfortable." Luke tossed a look over his shoulder as he moved across the roof. "I imagine Charlie will have

plenty of work for you to do."

Luke's gaze caught on something below. "Speaking of... she just pulled up." Luke started moving toward the back of the

house without further explanation. "Good time to ask her more about it, if you want."

A festival certainly added a bit of silver lining to near-death experiences on a roof.

Arran followed Luke and Dave down the ladder, his movements much slower than four hours ago. They rounded the front of the

house to find a woman with her back to them, pulling a few boxes of pizza from a little red truck.

Why did the truck look strangely familiar?

"Sorry I'm late, boys."

The woman turned, and heat fled every part of Arran's body.

The ball cap over brown hair.

The unusual silver eyes.

The heart-shaped face and little chin.

He'd seen her before. Though he didn't recall the white bandage across her nose.

"Oh no, Charlie." Luke rushed forward, tugging the pizza boxes from her arms. "Did the doc say it was broken?"

Arran pulled his attention from the woman's striking eyes, his brain piecing together where she fit into his sketchy recollection.

Broken?

The memory rushed to the front of his mind with full force.

He'd slammed his head into her nose, hadn't he? His stomach seized as he replayed the incident in his mind with bone-aching

clarity.

Charlie was... Charlotte. Luke's cousin.

"Only a hairline fracture." She turned back to the truck.

"No!" The word erupted from Arran in a shocked breath. He stepped forward as she spun around, a carton of canned drinks in

her hands. "Was that because of me?"

Her averted glance proved the truth he feared.

"I'm so sorry." His throat closed around a groan, and he took the carton from her. "Please forgive me."

Something flickered in her gaze before she shrugged off his apology. "I know it was an accident, okay? Let's move on."

"But if I hadn't behaved like a cretin in the first place, this never would have happened."

She studied him, a curious crook to her grin. "I'll be fine." She dismissed him with a glance. "You boys hungry?"

What must she think of him? An utter failure and rake, is what.

And her response only secured his decision.

He'd prove to them all who he truly was: a man worthy of his position as a royal, a worker humble enough to learn a new skill

and faithful enough to keep working, and—his gaze fastened on the woman—someone who knew how to treat a lady.

Despite first impressions.

It was the least he could do.

"Doc thought I ought to keep my feet on the ground for a few days, Luke." She laid out a few plates on a makeshift table of

"sawhorses," as Luke called them. "Said my nose needs a bit more healing before I add heights to it."

"Take as much time as you need."

"I'll keep working on orders from home, then." Charlotte—Charlie—took a can from the drink container and opened it with a

click . "Which reminds me, Arnold down at the quarry said he can deliver your stone to the Foxes' place at the beginning of next

week."

"Good." Luke nodded, turning his attention to Arran. "That will be our next project. Laying stone for a patio and chimney.

Tough work, but real pretty." He took a can and handed it to Arran. "By the time we finish with you, Arran, you might even

trade in that crown for some overalls and a hammer."

"Or go running back to the castle as quickly as you can," Charlie muttered, tossing a slice of pizza on a paper plate and

handing it to him, her slender brows high. "Is paper alright for you, Your Highness?"

Another memory from last night lanced through him. "I'd rather you call me Arran, my lady." His charm bounced right off her glare. "I am truly sorry about last night, Charlotte. I hope I can make a better impression in the future."

She gestured toward her face with her drink, one brow arched. "As long as your next impression doesn't leave a mark."

He winced and Luke burst out laughing. "You two better learn how to get along because you're going to be spending a lot of time together, especially with The Wish."

Charlotte folded her arms across her chest, making her lack of faith in him fully known.

"Now, Charlie, Arran's got a whole host of experiences with navigating social functions and speaking in front of folks." Luke

sent him a reassuring look. "And he's here to prove he's fit to help serve those kids and families too."

Charlotte's raised brow told Arran three things:

Charlotte Edgewood wasn't too keen on his help.

He had a long way to go to change her mind about him.

Silver eyes were fascinating.