Seven

How could Charlie feel simultaneously glad to be working alongside Prince Smolder and mortified?

After all, he'd helped her shop yesterday. Even waited outside the dressing room to comment on her choices.

Ugh.

Surely he had a thousand better experiences in his royal life than something as simple and... ridiculous as that!

But he'd never given off any sense of wishing to be anywhere else. In fact, the way he looked at her a few times, well...

she wondered if he wasn't even enjoying himself. Which seemed even more ridiculous, because any man of her acquaintance would

rather take a fork to the eye than go clothes shopping with a female.

Or even shopping at all.

It was probably because of the clothes. Her cousin Penelope always said men responded to the way women wore clothes. But surely

a prince was used to much prettier clothes on much prettier ladies than... well, her .

Then they'd gone to Weber's, found Arran some boots, and walked through Ransom Community Park eating hotdogs and talking about

their childhoods.

Like friends.

Friends!

And now here she was, laying stone on a patio, surrounded by mountains, and having another "friendly" conversation with Prince Arran of Skymar.

Much like they'd had for the past three days.

The more time she spent with him, the more he kept proving her first impressions wrong. To beat it all, he kept doing "princely"

things like holding doors open for her, gently putting a palm to her back when crossing uneven terrain, and walking on the

curbside of the road. He even brought coffee to her one morning.

Of course, Luke did similar things for Ellie.

And occasionally Dave offered to go get her a coffee.

But the guys usually treated her the same as the rest of the team, which meant like one of them. Not Arran. Even when she

was wearing her sweatshirt and mortar-stained jeans, he somehow made her feel very feminine.

It was instantaneously unnerving and comforting. And... attractive.

She shook her head and carefully situated the next stone Arran handed her into the mortar on the patio.

"This work is hard, but"—Arran gestured toward the half-finished patio of multicolored fieldstone—"what a result!"

"I've always loved stone." She slid the trowel over the "mud" to clear off the excess from the stone. "It has a natural beauty

to it."

"Then you'd love Skymar." He lowered himself to her level, offering another stone. "Stone buildings, streets, and fences aplenty."

She created a hole large enough so the slightest suction could settle the stone in place. "Does our world look bland to you,

then?"

"Not at all. I've found the atmosphere and people..." He paused and tipped his head toward her. His mussed hair and hint

of stubble on his jaw forced the phrase "Sexy Sovereign" back to mind. She diverted her attention back to the stone as he

continued.

"I've found it all a welcome and needed reminder of what matters most in life. I think you know enough about me now to realize that in my past, I'd become stuck in a self-destructive way of thinking to douse my pain. And in the end... well..." His shoulders sagged and he looked off into the distance. "It brought me here."

The longing, the regret in his voice, pulled at her heart, so she offered a lighter turn. "Well, I know Luke and Ellie are

glad to have you." She raised a teasing brow. "Not to mention a few... um... churchgoers?" Her snicker, snort and all,

shook free as she referenced Luke's humorous recounting of Arran getting mobbed by mothers at the local church looking for

a date—or a husband—for their daughters.

"Heaven help me." He groaned. "You've heard?"

"You're fresh meat."

"What?" His smile widened.

"Single male from a good family?" She slid her gaze up and down him, followed by a low whistle. "Fodder to all southern mamas

in search of the perfect man for their daughters."

He rocked back on his feet, his frown deepening. "After the service there were so many of them, most with high-pitched voices

and overpowering perfume."

A belting laugh burst out and she tried to cover it, but instead she plopped some mortar on her face along with the movement.

"Ack! Look at me, so ladylike." She sighed and rolled her eyes.

He crooked his lips and tugged a handkerchief from his pocket, offering it to her. "My grandmother used to say that what makes

a lady is on the inside, Charlotte." The way his voice warmed her name almost distracted her every time he said it. "We only

need to show on the outside what you already have on the inside."

She took the proffered handkerchief. "And what is that?"

"You're kind. And your kindness is a big part of who you are. Anyone can see that by the way you interact with others. And

you're smart, resourceful." He waved a hand toward her. "A hard worker."

"In carpentry."

"Carpentry doesn't make you any less a lady." His expression gentled. "It is something you do , but not who you are . And this weekend you certainly showed off your ability to dress the part of a lady, should you wish it."

A flush of heat rushed with power-drill speed into her cheeks. "Being poised and coherent during a speech might be a nice

addition."

He tilted his head, studying her with those striking blue eyes of his. "I want to discuss The Wish and your speeches sometime.

When could you meet this week?"

Her thoughts still clung to the way he'd complimented her and then completely validated her job and personality at the same

time, so it took her a few seconds to catch up with his request. "Right. We need to do that." She blinked back to awareness.

"Saturday?"

"Perfect. Text me details?"

"I... I don't think I have your number."

"Ah, right." He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his phone. "Do you mind putting in your number?"

She stared at him. Prince Arran was asking for her phone number.

A wonderful flood of delicious warmth tingled up her body. Attraction?

No sirree.

Besides, he wasn't asking for her number in a romantic way.

At all!

He wanted her number as a colleague. That's it. Maybe even as a friend.

And that was good. Fine!

"Sure. Yes." She wiped her fingers on the handkerchief and then took his phone, quickly adding her number.

"And it's fine if I text you mine?" He took back the phone.

"It would make the communication happen a lot easier if you did." Good . Her sarcasm had come to the defense.

"A sense of humor can suit a lady too." He winked as she offered him the handkerchief, carefully tugging it away.

"Hey, are you two over here holding hands or working?"

Charlie looked up to see Luke approaching, a rascally expression on his face. Heat invaded her cheeks all over again. Family!

"I think the protocol is to exchange mobile numbers first, and then the hand-holding can commence," Arran replied, nonplussed.

And then... he shot her one of those lopsided grins. "Step one is complete."

"Gross." Despite Luke's exaggerated grimace, the twinkle in his dark eyes only intensified Charlie's mortification.

"The only hand-holding he's needed was the initial stonework placement." She smiled in mock sweetness. "Otherwise, his hands

have been too busy for holding."

Luke rolled his eyes, as if he didn't believe a word of it, before looking down at his watch. "Aren't you and Ellie meeting

this afternoon?"

Charlie froze. "Oh, right. Dancing talk." She pushed to a stand and dusted her hands on her jeans. Praise God for small means

of escape. "I lost track of time."

"Lost?" Luke heaved a heavy sigh. "That's the whole reason I came over here, really. You looked so lost in Arran's eyes, I

figured I'd better come rescue you before I had to send a search party."

Her glare bounced off his smirk.

"You're merciless, Luke." Arran chuckled, warm and much too entertained. "Charlotte is too levelheaded to set her sights on

a rogue prince."

Her level head and his crooked smile were not playing fair, actually.

"Riiiight." Luke drew out the word, then shifted his attention between the two of them before gesturing back the way he'd

come. "I'll clean up my tools back at the rock wall and then come take over Charlie's spot here with you."

With another humor-filled look in Charlie's direction, Luke moved back across the floor, careful of his steps on the wooden planks they'd marked for safe passage over the stones.

"I'll see you tomorrow." She offered Arran a side wave and made to step back when he caught her by the arm.

"You never told me how to avoid the southern mothers at church."

Her grin resurfaced, her sarcasm rising above the effect of his nearness on her internal temperature. "I'm afraid there are

only two remedies."

His brow tipped in question.

"Death." She squinted her nose with her frown. "Or... not being single."

***

Charlie walked by her laptop for the fifth time, stopping in front of it to stare at the search screen. After a humiliating

dance lesson with Ellie, her curiosity had gotten the better of her, and she not-so-subtly asked for more details about why

Arran came to Mount Airy.

She'd caught a few hints in discussions, but the details stung with renewed clarity.

A woman.

The woman Arran dated for two years before everything ended on the night he proposed. Then it became clear she'd only used

her connection with Arran to advance her career in film.

And his heart had been so broken, his trust so crushed, he'd attempted to drown his hurt in all the wrong ways. Pulling away

from his family, engaging in superficial relationships, and ignoring his responsibilities.

Only in the past few months, the family noticed a turn in the right direction. Real healing, and at Arran's initiation.

So the man she'd laid rock with and even—cringe—shopped with was the real Arran St. Clare, and he'd finally been released from the curse of heartache to transform from a rogue back to a prince.

Hmm... very fairy-tale-like, if she thought about it.

Ugh. She shook her head.

Steer clear of fairy-tale thinking.

Dangerous.

NOT real.

She stared back at her computer, tapping her fingers against her chin.

No. She didn't need to Google Arran.

Seriously, why would she indulge in something so silly? With a shrug to her inner voice, she slid down into the chair and

typed in "Arran St. Clare."

Dozens of links popped up, the first listing his full name: Arran Diederik St. Clare, Prince of Bredon and the Western Isles . She blinked. Somehow, the title made his "prince-ness" a little more real.

What would dating a prince be like, anyway? Ellie mentioned how careful she'd been when dating Luke, sharing how, though the

choice of a spouse was personal for a royal, it also had some bearing on the monarchy.

So, when Arran chose to propose to his ex-girlfriend, he'd weighed those options.

And she'd not chosen him back, but instead had used his affection for selfish gain. Her heart ached at the very idea.

Arran's photo on the screen stared back at her, in full crooked-grin charm. Very princely.

Seriously, what little girl at some point in her life didn't secretly wish to marry a prince? It seemed pretty common.

She narrowed her search terms, looking for who he was before his heartbreak.

Videos and photos showed Arran serving alongside his family, his smile quick to respond. Often, he was one of the first of the royals to move toward the kids, kneeling down to talk with them, bringing out their laughter. He cut ribbons, played sports, served in the Skymarian military, worked alongside people within the community, and gave speeches.

Good speeches.

And then... a post popped up about his split from Angelica, which led to another post and another. His entire demeanor

changed. No longer did he approach people but rather stayed in the shadows. He appeared aloof; his joy vanished.

And then there were photos of him at wild parties. Headlines of the Rogue Prince followed ones of his ex-girlfriend enjoying

the glamorous life of Elstree, Tanalyn, and even Hollywood.

Charlie paused a video of Arran looking at her from the screen. A wounded Arran stared back at her.

A man hiding his pain behind fake happiness. A plastic smile. Nothing like the man who'd helped her with shopping or building.

She pressed a palm to her chest, rubbing at a sudden ache.

The wounds she carried through her childhood had soaked into the person she'd become. Self-doubt plagued her choices, as her

mother's condemning words loomed in the back of her mind. Even though she knew the truth, sometimes memory crowded out the

truth...

And then she let insecurities win.

She looked down at her baggy sweatshirt and pants, a contrast to the new looks Ellie and Arran had introduced.

Sure, sweatshirts weren't inherently bad. In fact, she liked them.

But had she also used them to "hide" herself? To keep from disappointing a possible suitor? To prevent failing? Was she afraid

that if someone saw her as a viable dating option, he'd reject her because she wasn't enough?

She flinched as a thought came to mind. Like her mother had.

Her gaze rose to meet the Arran on the screen. She understood heartbreak. Fear. "Pretending" in order to ease the pain.

This news about him hit her. Instead of raising all the red flags in her mind, it did the opposite. It touched all the bruised,

lonely places in her heart from one walking-wounded to another.

Sure, his life was light-years different from hers, but maybe he wasn't so different at the heart level. Perhaps he needed

to know how beautiful a faithful and reformed heart truly was.

That he was seen too.