Prince Not So Charming: A Royal Love Story

by Tawny Taylor

  Since I’d returned to Dawson, I’d suffered the lack of reliable transportation. My car ran. Every now and then. Not regularly enough. As a result I’d put more miles on Clay’s truck and Harper’s car than my own. And I’d grown really, really tired of relying upon Clay or Harper.

  If I had anything to say about it, that would be changing. Soon.

  In the meantime, I needed to get to town.

  I checked outside. Two vehicles sat in Clay’s miles-long driveway: Clay’s truck and Harper’s car. My car was at Silver Sage. With any luck it had been torched too. At least I’d be able to collect some insurance money if it was.

  Praying Clay left Harper’s keys in the ignition, I headed toward her car first. She wouldn’t be upset if I borrowed her car for an hour or so. She was, and always would be, the best friend I could ever have. And I hoped someday I’d be able to pay her back for all the kind things she’d done for me over the years.

  “Thanks, Harper,” I whispered as I plopped into the driver’s seat. Sure enough, the keys were there. I cranked on the engine. Before shifting into gear, I checked around me, thinking I might see Harper and take her to town with me.

  No such luck.

  Alone, I drove into town, nerves jangling. I was too busy praying there was insurance to listen to the radio. In fact, my mind was so occupied I pulled up in front of Hardin’s office before I even realized it. I cut off the car and scurried up the front steps.

  Inside, I checked in with his receptionist and took a seat to wait. My heart was thumping hard and fast. My palms sweating. I wished Clay or Harper had been able to come with me. I could use some moral support. Of course, I could’ve waited until Clay woke up to do this. I knew he would have come with me. Gladly.

  If only I wasn’t so frickin’ impatient.

  But impatient I was. And so I would have to face this alone.

  The little bell above the main door tinkled, and naturally I glanced that way to see who had arrived.

  Of all people, it was Carrie, Clay’s sister. She snapped a quick look my way before checking in with the receptionist. Then she took a seat one chair away from me and beamed, “Hey. Fancy meeting you here.”

  “Yes,” I agreed.

  “Glad to see you survived.”

  “Survived what?” I asked. Had news of the fire traveled that fast already?

  “Being the live-in nursemaid to my moody brother, of course. The last time I saw you, you were taking over my post at his bedside.” Carrie tipped her head. “What did you think I meant?”

  “Oh yes. That’s right. I forgot. I thought you meant… well, haven’t you heard?”

  She scrunched up her pretty face. “Heard about what?”

  “Someone set my house on fire last night.”

  “No! I hadn’t heard. Which surprises me. News travels so fast around here.” Leaning toward me, she set her hand on my knee. “That’s awful! What happened? You say someone set your house on fire? Do you know how did it? Are you okay?”

  “Yes. I’m fine. I wasn’t home. It was arson. But I don’t think there are any suspects yet.”

  “Why would someone do such a thing?”

  “I wish I knew the answer to that. In fact, that’s why I’m here. To see if there was an insurance policy on the property. I thought it might have been set so someone could collect an insurance payout.”

  “Hm. I doubt that. Knowing real estate law like I do, random people can’t take out policies on property they don’t own. So if there is a policy, either you or my brother would be the beneficiary. Nobody else.”

  “That’s what I thought.”

  “Sorry. But I’m glad to see you’re okay.”

  The receptionist announced from her desk, “Miss Pierce, Mr. Hardin will see you now.”

  I stood, smoothed my sweaty palms down my thighs.

  “Good luck,” Carrie said, giving me a reassuring smile. “I hope you find the culprit.”

  “Thanks.”

  Twenty minutes later I was breathing easier. As executor of my aunt’s estate, Hardin had been responsible for purchasing a new property insurance policy when my aunt died. The house and its contents were covered. I would be receiving a check within the next few weeks.

  That was a huge relief.

  But then he dropped a bomb on me.

  I was on the verge of losing the ranch and the rest of my aunt’s estate.

  All of my troubles—the shortage of help, my lack of experience--had led to the ranch’s rapid financial decline. And it would be almost impossible to turn it around. Making matters worse, it would take weeks to receive the funds to buy the equipment that had been destroyed in the fire. Plus I would have to rebuild almost half the barn and replace several months’ worth of feed and straw. In the meantime, I would be forced to pay weekly payments to the neighbor for housing and feeding our animals.

  It wasn’t going to happen. I wasn’t going to save it. I could see that now.

  I’d lost it. All of it. Already.

  Stunned by the bad news, I exited Hardin’s office. Carrie was waiting where I’d left her in the lobby. I acknowledged her with a nod and headed toward the door. Outside, I heard the door shut behind me and turned to learn she’d followed me.

  “Didn’t you have an appointment with Mr. Hardin?” I asked.

  “Yes, but it can wait.” She gave me a kind smile. “You look shaken. I wanted to make sure you’re all right.”

  “Thanks. I’m okay.” I didn’t sound okay. I blinked. It felt like the weight of the whole world had just landed on my shoulders. I couldn’t hold it up. My vision blurred. I sniffled. Dammit, I was going to cry. Out here. In the middle of the freaking street. Embarrassed, I dragged my trembling hand across my face. “I should go.”

  “Like that? Tell me you aren’t driving.”

  Ignoring the worry I heard in her voice, I practically ran to Harper’s car. My head was spinning. Literally. If I didn’t sit down in the next few seconds, I was going to pass out.

  Carrie hooked her arm through mine, catching me as I was about to sink to the ground. “Come with me. Can you make it up the stairs?” She motioned toward a building. Her apartment building.

  Blinking to try to clear the sparkling stars from my vision, I nodded. “I… I don’t know.”

  “I won’t let you fall.” Supporting me, she led me through the door leading to her apartment’s ground floor entry and up the steps. At the top, she unlocked a second door and pushed it open.

  Even though I was on the verge of a breakdown I couldn’t help noticing how beautiful her home was. The interior was full of period detail. Thick, heavy moldings enhanced every window and door. The wall was clad in rich-looking stained bead board paneling from the chair rail down to the baseboards. Above, the walls were painted a soft, silvery gray. Shimmering silk drapes bracketed the windows, and deep, layered crown moldings drew my watery eyes up to the ceiling.

  “Your apartment is spectacular.”

  “Thank you,” she said as she steered me toward her couch. “I love old architecture. They just don’t make buildings like this anymore. Sometime I’ll have to give you a tour. I did some of the renovations with my own two hands.”

  “Impressive.”

  “A drink,” she suggested, “what you need is a drink. What can I get you?”

  I wasn’t thirsty, but I didn’t want to appear rude after she’d rescued me. Besides, she was probably right—I probably did need a drink. “Water or pop is fine. Thank you.”

  “Pop?” She smiled. “Such a funny word for a beverage.”

  “It’s one of those Michigan things. I meant I’ll take a cola. Coke? Whatever you have.”

  “One Coke coming up.” She skittered to the open-concept kitchen at the rear of the apartment. Base cabinets stained to match the wood trim and paneling and brand new stainless steel appliances lined one wall; opposite stood a raw brick exterior wall, polished and coated to a high gloss.

  My gaze locked on the brick wall. “That b
rick is gorgeous.”

  “Thank you. I just had to showcase it. Do you notice the size and color of the bricks? They don’t look anything like the ones you buy today.” She fetched a pair of glasses from a cabinet and stuffed one into the small ice dispenser in the refrigerator door. Once enough ice cubes had clattered into the glass, she set it on the counter and raised an index finger. “Be right back. I keep my Coke stored out on the porch.”

  “Sure.”

  “How’s my brother?” Carrie called as she flung open the French door at the end of the kitchen, revealing a small screened-in balcony area. “I haven’t seen him in a while. Emmy, my daughter, misses him. You remember my daughter, don’t you?” Her question was accompanied by the sound of thumping boxes and tearing cardboard.

  “Yes, of course. She’s beautiful. I’ll tell him she misses him. He’s resting today. He spent the night at Silver Sage, helping with the animals.” After a beat, I added, “Please, don’t go to any trouble. If you have to move a bunch of things to get to the Coke, I’m good with water.”

  “No trouble.” She reappeared, a ten-ounce bottle in her hand. “Emmy’s at preschool, so I’m glad for the company.” She unscrewed the bottle and poured the contents over the ice cubes before handing the glass to me. Then she poured herself some wine, sat beside me, and lifted her glass. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like something a little stronger?”

  “No, thank you. This is fine.” I took a couple of swallows before setting down my drink. “I should be getting back soon. I borrowed my friend’s car.”

  “Of course. Just a second. I wanted to talk to you about something.” She guzzled the rest of her wine then hopped up to grab the wine bottle from the built-in wine cooler under the counter. This time she didn’t pour herself more; she brought the bottle with her, sat, and refilled her glass. “Sorry. I’m so thirsty. I had nachos for lunch. Salty.”

  Carrie was drinking a lot, considering how early it was. Was that normal for her?

  “Sure. What did you want to talk about?” Watching her down a second full glass of wine, I took a handful of swallows of cola. It was cool, crisp. Just right on a muggy day like this. Before I realized it, I was staring at a glass full of ice—only ice. I licked my upper lip.

  “Hmmm.” She scrunched up her nose. “I don’t know how to say this...”

  “Say what?” A shiver of unease burned up my spine. One part of me wanted to leave. But then again, this was Clay’s sister. They had a rough relationship. And yet she’d been so nice to me when I needed help. I might be able to help smooth things over between them. Wouldn’t that be a good thing? “It’s okay, Carrie,” I reassured her.

  “I can trust you, can’t I?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Okay.” She sighed. “It’s about the fire. At Silver Sage.”

  I perked up. Had she heard something? A rumor? Earlier, when I’d told her about the fire, she’d acted as if she hadn’t known anything.

  “What about it? Do you know who did it?”

  She nodded. “I do.”

  My heart literally did a triple-flip in my chest. “Then you have to tell the authorities. It was arson.”

  “Yes. It was.” Her throat worked as she swallowed.

  “I’ll go with you if you’re afraid,” I offered, sensing she was reluctant to tell me what she knew. “Were you threatened if you told what you knew?”

  “No. It’s nothing like that.” She inhaled. Exhaled.

  I waited, my breath caught in my throat.

  Carrie knew! I was a second away from finding out who had torched my house. And maybe she’d even know why.

  The bad guy wasn’t going to get away with it. Not this time. For once, the bad would be punished. And the innocent protected. I’d learned in life that this kind of justice didn’t come around very often.

  And I had Clay’s sister to thank for it.

  “Um, the person who started the fire…?” she said, softly. “It was… me.”

  25

  Everything went black for one, two, three seconds. Or was it hours? I didn’t know. I was literally struck dumb with shock.

  Carrie had set fire to my house? Carrie? Clay’s sister?

  That couldn’t be true.

  I’d misunderstood.

  Or she was lying.

  Or… or she’d done it by accident.

  No, she was lying. She had to be.

  But why?

  Carrie smiled.

  Oh, she was joking!

  It was a rotten joke. A cruel joke.

  I shook my head. “Do you think this is funny?”

  “No. I’m sure it isn’t funny. Not for you.” She patted my knee.

  “Why would you say that, then? Why make such a stupid joke?”

  “It isn’t a joke. Whatever gave you that idea?” She stood, snatched our glasses and carried them to the kitchen.

  I stammered, uttering nonsense syllables as I watched her. It wasn’t a joke? Carrie did start the fire?

  Why?

  No, it didn’t matter why! She was a bitch! An arsonist.

  “Why!” I blurted as I scrambled to comprehend what was going on. “I don’t understand. Why would you do this to me? Why?”

  “I wasn’t doing anything to you. You were just an unfortunate bystander…collateral damage.” She gave her wrist a cavalier flip. “I knew you’d eventually lose the ranch. You didn’t know a damn thing about running one. I have to give you credit. I thought you would have given up by now. Since you were so damn stubborn, I figured I’d do you a little favor and speed up the process. That way you could get back to civilization.”

  What the fuck? “You actually think you’ve done me a favor?”

  “Oh, absolutely. I could have done you a greater one, though, by warning you about Clay. I never expected you to fall for his lies.”

  “What lies?”

  “Where do I start?” Carrie the arsonist rolled her eyes. “What hasn’t the asshole lied about? He lies about everything. Even his name.”

  What. The. Fuck?

  “His name?” I echoed.

  This made no sense. I’d known Clay for years. His name was Clay Walker then. It was Clay Walker now. What was she talking about?

  To hell with that. Who cared what she thought Clay’s name was? She’d just confessed to arson. I needed to get out of here. I needed to go to the sheriff. Now. Report her. Have her arrested.

  “Sure, Clay Walker isn’t his name. I mean, it is now, but it wasn’t always.”

  I pushed to my feet. The door. I had to get to the door and get the fuck out. “I don’t understand.” Focused on keeping her talking, distracted, I slowly strolled toward the door.

  “They adopted him and gave him the name Clay Walker. He’s a nobody. A rat tossed away by parents who didn’t want him. My parents took him in because they felt sorry for him. And then, because they felt guilty, they gave him the ranch. And the money.” She prowled closer. “It should have been mine. All mine. I’m their blood. Me.” She thumped her chest with a fist. “Why would they give the bastard anything?”

  Now I was beginning to see, to understand. The hazy facts were starting to fit together.

  Clay was adopted. His sister wasn’t.

  But what did that have to do with my ranch?

  “You’re jealous, like Clay said,” I said, thinking aloud. That had to be it. Jealousy made some people do crazy things. Terrible things.

  “No!” She shook her head. “I don’t want what he has. I don’t want what he is. None of it.”

  This girl was seriously crazy. Like, should-be-sleeping-in-a-padded-room nuts. I wasn’t following her logic. Not at all. Probably because nothing she said was logical.

  Anyway, it didn’t matter.

  I knew the truth. I knew who had started the fire, and (kind of) why. Now all I had to do was get that information to the right people.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” She quirked a small smile. “Did you think I’d let you stroll out o
f here after this?” She flopped an arm over my shoulder and produced a gun from a hidden holster somewhere. She pointed the serious end of the weapon at my face, and my heart literally stopped. “Somewhere I read once that if the bad guy starts talking to you, you need to start sayin’ your prayers. Because you’re going to die. Ever heard that?”

  Just about peeing my pants, I shook my head.

  She was going to shoot me?

  No. No, she wasn’t.

  Was she?

  Ohmygod, she might.

  But people would hear! Didn’t she know that? Didn’t she care?

  Maybe not.

  “You see,” she continued, “if they think you’ll live, they’ll make sure to keep everything to themselves. That way you can’t go to the police and turn them in.”

  “I won’t,” I promised.

  She laughed. “Right. You won’t tell.” She motioned with the gun. “Get over there.”

  I didn’t move. I couldn’t move. I was too freaking terrified. My muscles were locked up.

  “I said get the fuck over there!” she growled through gritted teeth.

  I moved a finger, a hand. An arm. A foot. I took a shaky step, then a second. The whole time my eyes were locked on the cold, dark barrel of that gun, expecting a flare of red to blind me at any moment.

  “Good. Now sit down.”

  Without looking behind me, I bent over and reached back. A chair. No, a stool. There was a stool behind me.

  “Oh my fucking God. Are you eighty? Move faster!”

  I climbed onto it.

  She was going to shoot me. What could I do? What?

  “Please don’t do this,” I begged, adrenaline blasting through my body and making my heart practically jump out of my chest with every racing beat.

  “Please don’t do this,” she mocked, rolling her eyes. “You are such a whiner. I don’t know why any guy would fall in love with you, even my idiot brother.” She slid the gun along my neck. The metal was so cold. Hard. I shivered. “Lust? Sure. Your body is banging hot. If things had been different, I might’ve found a better use for you than worm food. But… well, some things just can’t be helped. He has to pay. He has to lose everything. Even you.” She sighed as if she were being put out by having to shoot me.