by Holly Jacobs
“No.”
She looked taken aback by his monosyllabic, more-than-a-little-brusque response. But when he didn’t say anything else, she took the hint.
“Well, all right, then. Just holler if you need anything else.”
“We’re fine,” Jace said.
When Bobby appeared as if he was going to say something, Jace gave him a look of warning, and for once his nephew heeded it and sank back in his seat, silent.
Without another word, Parker Dillon left them.
Jace watched her go.
The princess went back to the counter, ready to wait on someone else.
And while she was waiting on tables, her father, Antonio Paul Capelli Mickovich Dillonetti, the king of Eliason, was waiting for Jace to find out why she wouldn’t go home.
What a mess.
“Hi, Mom.” Parker was taking a break in the small back office later that afternoon. “It’s me. Father called and wanted to speak to me.”
“Are you two fighting again?” There was motherly concern in the former Erie resident’s voice. Back then her mom had been plain Anna Parker. A small-town girl. Now she was a queen. More than that, she was a woman who liked her family to be happy and get along.
Since Parker’s father and brother were both stubborn and autocratic, the family dynamics were frequently less than tranquil. But all three of them tried to keep their squabbles to themselves. By an unspoken agreement, they didn’t run tattling to Parker’s mom. Which is why Parker said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mom. I just called to talk to him. Can’t a daughter call her father just because she misses him?”
There was a decidedly less-than-queenly snort from the other end of the line.
“So, how are you?” she asked before her mother could phrase a more wordy retort.
“Fine. How are you?”
They made small talk for a while. Regular homey talk. Her mother chatted about her charities and Parker’s father. She mentioned that Parker’s brother, Michael, was on a short diplomatic tour. “He’ll be in the States and is hoping to visit. He misses you.” There was a slight pause, then her mother added softly, “We all do.”
Parker suspected that Michael wasn’t coming just to visit. He sided with her father and considered Parker’s decision to abdicate her royal duties a childish whim she’d eventually outgrow. His visit would consist of a lot of Parker-it’s-time-to-grow-up lectures.
She’d have groaned at the thought, but she was stuck on her mother’s comment. “I miss you, as well.”
“Even if you don’t want to live in Eliason, there’s nothing that says you can’t visit, is there?”
“I will. Soon. I promise.”
“Good. Let me get your father for you.”
For a moment Parker thought her mother was gone, but then she said, “And, Parker, remember I love you.”
“I love you, too, Mom.”
She waited on the line, trying to psych herself up for another conversation with her father. It wasn’t going to be as easy as her conversation with her mother had been.
Once upon a time, her father had known her every thought, her every dream. He’d hold her on his lap and they’d really talk.
Parker felt a stab of regret that those days were long since gone. Now they barely spoke. And when they did, her father spent his time issuing ultimatums, and she spent her time ignoring every one of them.
“I’m going to put you through to him. Try not to fight.”
“Mom, how can you think we’d fight?”
Again, her mother snorted.
These days, despite any good intentions not to, whenever she and her father spoke, fighting was inevitable.
The situation broke her heart, but she didn’t know what to do to make her father accept that she would never be able to be what he wanted.
To be who he wanted.
Parker just wasn’t princess material, no matter how much her father desired it.
“Marie Anna,” he said in his rich, cultured voice as he came onto the line.
When she’d been little she’d loved to listen to him talk. It didn’t matter what he’d said, she’d just loved the way his voice rumbled in his chest.
“Parker, Papa. I’m Parker now.”
She’d stopped being Princess Marie Anna when she escaped Eliason. She’d come to her mother’s home in the United States looking to leave her royal life behind.
Erie was a small city on the shore of Lake Erie, and there she went to college as Parker.
Just Parker.
At first that name had been a cloak of anonymity, but now it more aptly fit who she really was.
Parker Dillon.
A waitress at Monarch’s.
A normal, everyday sort of woman.
Ordinary.
“You’ll always be my little Marie Anna,” her father assured her. “My princess.”
Parker sighed. Fighting with her father was as if pounding her head into a brick wall. The wall couldn’t give, and she ended up with a headache.
“What did you need, Papa?” she asked.
“I need my daughter to come home.”
Tenacious. Her father was the most tenacious, single-minded man she’d ever met. That ability to set a goal and not lose sight of it made him a great leader. But it sometimes made him a difficult parent because once he had an idea, he couldn’t let it go.
Of course, her mother claimed Parker was just like him in that respect.
She smiled at the thought.
“I love you, Papa,” she said softly before she added, “but I’m not coming home.”
“Your fiancé is waiting for you. He misses you.”
“He doesn’t know me to miss me.”
“Tanner is anxious to start planning your wedding.”
“And if he doesn’t know me enough to miss me, he certainly doesn’t know me well enough to marry me—which is a good thing since I’m not marrying him.”
She hadn’t seen Tanner in years. What she remembered about him was a gap-toothed smiling boy who liked to torment her. Tanner, though he teased her, also made her smile.
A joker.
He’d been a sort of sweet boy.
But he wasn’t a boy any longer. He was a stranger. He was a prince. She wasn’t sure of anything about him any longer except for the fact that he wasn’t her fiancé, no matter what her father decreed.
“Arranged marriages haven’t been in vogue for a century or more, and I don’t think I’m the one to bring them back into style,” she said, trying to joke. Her father didn’t respond, so she added, “I’m sorry, Papa, but I can’t marry him. I’m happy here. I even have a job.”
“It’s beneath your station to work as a waitress.”
“Hey, I’ve worked as a clerk for Cara over in the bookstore. Is that better?”
“No,” her father assured her. “It isn’t better at all. You don’t need to work. You’re needed at home.”
“Yes, I do need to work. Mom had all kinds of jobs when she was in school, before you met her. And I’m a good waitress.” Parker crossed her fingers as she said the words. She was working at being adequate, and that was good enough.
Though she’d better get better…fast. Her father’s cutting off access to her funds meant not only was she broke but the partnership wasn’t as financially solvent as it should be. According to her projections, they should be operating in the black sometime in the next few months, but without an occasional influx of cash, the stores were walking a narrow financial line. Working as a waitress not only gave Parker an income but meant the store didn’t have to pay benefits to a full-time employee, and so it saved them money, as well.
It was a win-win situation in Parker’s eyes.
“As for working,” she continued, “it’s a necessity. You see, someone froze my accounts and canceled my charge cards. I have bills to pay, just like everyone else.”
“I cut off your money so you would come home, not so you would get a job,” he explained.
Parker could hear the exasperation in his voice and felt another stab of sorrow that she was the one putting it there.
“Papa, we’ve been over this a dozen times. Neither of us is going to give an inch, so we might as well drop it. I’m not marrying Tanner. I’m not coming home. And surprisingly, I like working.”
She thought of the tray she’d almost spilled today and the dark-haired man who’d rescued her. She smiled. “Some days I like it better than others, but no matter what, it’s satisfying.”
Her father didn’t say anything.
“Did you want anything new?” she finally asked.
“Tanner will come to America and get you, since you’re being stubborn and won’t come home.”
“No,” Parker insisted. “No. It would be a waste of time. Don’t you send him here, Papa. I’m not marrying him. I can’t believe you thought arranging some archaic betrothal to a virtual stranger would be a way to entice me back.”
“Your grandparents had an arranged marriage. My father used to swear it was love at first sight. That’s how our family falls—hard and fast.”
“You found Mother on your own, and I plan to find my future husband—if I ever marry—on my own, as well. Don’t send Tanner.”
“He’s already on his way. He should arrive tomorrow. He’s on flight 1129, arriving at the airport at eight-thirty in the evening. Make sure you’re on time.”
“On time for what?” Parker asked.
“On time to pick him up, of course.”
“I am not picking him up.”
“Young lady, it would be rude to make your fiancé take a cab from the airport. You might not want to be a princess, but I know that even someone who is not royalty has to have better manners than that. You will meet your fiancé at the airport.”
“I don’t have a fiancé,” she said for the umpteenth time.
And for the umpteenth time her father refused to acknowledge the comment. “Marie Anna, I expect you at that airport at eight-thirty tomorrow evening.”
Her father was right. She couldn’t leave poor Tanner stranded at the airport.
“Fine,” she said. “I’ll see to it that he has a ride. But that doesn’t mean I’m engaged to him.”
Her father sighed. “You didn’t used to be so difficult.”
“Neither did you.” The memory of sitting on his lap and feeling as if nothing in the world could harm her was back, practically choking her with unshed tears. “But no matter how difficult we both are, I love you, Papa.”
“And I you, Marie Anna. And I you.”
He disconnected.
Parker sat staring at the phone in her hand.
Tanner was coming to Erie.
The boy she used to know was a man now…a man who thought he was coming to meet his fiancée and bring her home in order to plan a wedding, say “I do” and settle down into wedded royal bliss.
Poor Prince Eduardo Matthew Tanner Ericson of Amar.
Her father had misled him and now it was up to Parker to set him straight.
Call your father, Shey had said. This was all Shey’s fault.
So maybe Shey should be the one to pick up the prince?
Chapter Two
Parker was a basket of nerves by the next evening. She might not have been willing to tell her mother about having her access to her trust fund cut off, but she had no compunction about hoping her mother could talk her father out of Tanner coming to the U.S.
“Your father won’t budge. But I’m sure you can handle Tanner, honey,” her mother said. “I know how strong you are.”
“You don’t think I’m running away, like Papa does?” Parker had asked.
“Not running away, running to. Looking for a life that works for you.”
“And if that life is away from Eliason?”
“I hope that you’ll find a way to include Eliason, even if you don’t live here. But regardless, we’re your family, no matter what.”
Talking to her mother had centered her. It always did. Her mother had been thrust into the spotlight when she’d married. She understood the costs that type of scrutiny entailed and she understood that Parker wasn’t willing to pay the price.
If only Parker could make her father understand.
Even if she couldn’t convince him, she was going to have to convince Tanner that she wasn’t going back.
Shey had agreed to pick up the prince, but that meant someone had to watch the shop. And by process of elimination, Parker was elected.
It was the first time she’d been left in charge of Monarch’s. She hadn’t wanted the responsibility but had said yes because her other option was picking up Tanner.
Watching the shop was the lesser of two evils. But being left in charge of the small coffeehouse wasn’t all that was making her nervous. She’d actually gotten through the whole evening without a major accident or problem.
No, the idea of Tanner coming to Erie—that was what had butterflies dancing around in her stomach.
He’d probably be as difficult as her father.
It wasn’t just a royalty thing. It was a man thing.
Parker most certainly did not agree with her father and she was pretty sure that she wouldn’t agree with any of Tanner’s ideas either.
“Miss?” a woman, the last customer in the shop, asked.
That shook Parker from her dark thoughts. The dark-haired woman looked upset.
“Sorry,” Parker said. “I was thinking. Can I help you?”
“Is there anyone who could walk me to my car? There’s a man lurking in the park. He’s watching us through the window and he looks sort of…” She paused and turned a little pink. “Well, this sounds a bit much, but he looks sort of ominous. He’s dressed all in black and just standing behind that tree, looking in here.”
All in black?
Parker was hit with a sneaking suspicion that she knew who it was. A premonition of sorts.
She wasn’t sure why she was so certain. There had to be a lot of men who liked wearing dark colors. And she’d never been prone to second sight, although rumor had it that her great-aunt Margaret on her father’s side had been the type of woman who had all kinds of hunches and premonitions.
Maybe Parker had inherited a touch of the gift.
In between worrying about Tanner and her father, she’d found time to think about her dark customer on more than one occasion since yesterday.
Actually a lot more than one occasion.
He’d featured prominently in her dreams last night, to boot.
That had to be why the first thing that came into her head when the woman mentioned a man in black was Jace.
But what if she wasn’t just being a bit much? What if he was watching the store? Did it have anything to do with the fact that she was sure she’d seen him before?
Parker knew she wasn’t going to find the answers if she continued to ponder over it.
“Let me lock the register and I’ll walk you out,” she said.
When the woman didn’t look convinced, Parker added, “I can protect us. I have pepper spray.”
“You’re sure?” she asked, her hesitation obvious.
“Have you ever gotten a face full of pepper spray? We’ll be safe enough. Just give me one minute.” Parker went to the small doorway that separated Monarch’s and the bookstore, Titles. “Hey, Cara?”
“Yes?” the small brunette said as she hurried toward Parker.
“I’m walking a customer to her car. No one’s in the store and I’ve locked the register, but keep an eye on the coffeehouse a moment, would you?”
“Sure,” Cara said. “Is there a problem?”
“No. I’m sure it’s nothing. Just a jumpy customer.”
“Okay. But if you’re not back here in ten minutes, I’m dialing 911.”
“Thanks.”
Parker returned to the woman. “I’ve got my pepper spray and someone to watch the store. We’re good to go.”
“You’re sure?” the woman
asked again.
“Positive.”
“I’m just across the street,” she said.
They walked out onto the sidewalk.
Parker squinted her eyes, trying to see across the street and behind the tree bordering the Perry Square park that the woman had mentioned.
She spotted a shadow.
“Straight ahead?” she asked.
“Yes. Behind that big tree,” the woman whispered. “My car’s just in front of it—the little Tracker.”
“Let’s go.”
They walked across the street to the car. Parker waited patiently while the woman unlocked the Tracker’s door and climbed in.
“Thanks,” she said.
“No problem. Hope to see you at Monarch’s again soon.”
The woman shut the door, and Parker stepped back so she could pull out.
Rather than go directly back into the store, she walked into the park.
The paths were lit, but the tree where she thought she’d seen a shadow was far enough away that it was hard to make out if anyone was behind it.
Something moved. Just a flicker.
She was pretty sure it was a man.
As she neared, he tried to fade farther into the night.
She stopped on the path.
Parker had always thought the women in horror films were dolts. She’d sit on her couch watching and thinking, Don’t go down to the basement, you idiot.
She didn’t need someone telling her not to stray off the path. She knew she should go back into the store. But her curiosity won over common sense. She felt a spurt of empathy for those horror-flick chicks who always needed to know what was at the bottom of the stairs, even if it meant they were the next to get axed.
The man was almost invisible in the shadows, but she knew he was there. And she was pretty sure she was right about who he was.
Gripping the pepper spray in case she was wrong, she said, “Uncle Jace?”
There was a slight rustling, as if he was trying to sink into the shadows.
“I know you’re there, Uncle Jace. Coffee, black. A niece and nephew. You’re fond of dark clothes and dark looks.”
A bit more rustling.
“If you don’t come out, I’m going to call 911 on my cell, then stand here and point you out to the cops. It’s handy having a police station as a neighbor. They all come into Monarch’s for their coffee, so I’m pretty sure they’ll believe me when I swear you’re stalking me. And I suspect I know why you’re stalking me. He put you up to it, didn’t he?”