How to Catch a Prince

by Ana Ashley

  "My sister is getting married this weekend."

  "That is a happy occasion. Congratulations."

  "Thank you. Did you plant all the wildflowers?" I asked, looking at the various patches that complemented perfectly the manicured lawn.

  "Oh yes, it takes a lot of skill. To get that effect you need to make sure the seeds for each kind of flower are spread evenly."

  "Really?"

  Olly slapped his knees and laughed. "Nah, I'm just teasing."

  I smiled, remembering the old town gardener, Basil. Olly was every bit as eccentric.

  "Your friend is looking for you."

  I turned toward the diner, and true enough, Kris was standing by our table looking around. I waved to get his attention, but Kris didn't seem to see me. I waved again and luckily this time Kris saw me.

  His smile took my breath away. We walked to each other and stopped when we were only inches apart outside the diner.

  "Thought you'd ditched me," Kris said with a tentative smile.

  "I would never do that. I mean, who would I keep bumping into?"

  Kris's smile most definitely reached his eyes now. And man, did they light up. It made the butterflies in my stomach flutter.

  "I was chatting to Olly; he's repotting some seedlings."

  I pointed at the gardener and excused myself to pick up my smaller sketchbook and box of pencils from the apartment.

  On my return, I found Kris crouched next to Olly, chatting away. As I approached, I overheard Olly saying, "Plant the seeds together, your love will grow forever."

  I couldn't see Kris's face as he took in the small bag of seeds Olly placed in his hand. Olly looked up and smiled at me. Kris turned around so quickly he lost balance and ended up sitting on the grass.

  "Nothing to do with me this time," I said, holding my hands up before I held one out to help Kris.

  "Thanks," Kris said after dusting off some dirt from his jeans. "Shall we go explore, then?"

  Kris put the bag with the seeds in his pocket and picked up a flask and another bag he'd placed on a nearby seat.

  "We have coffee and cookies, thanks to Benny," Kris said, holding the goodies up.

  "He's always been my favorite person." I grinned.

  We started off in the direction of the Old Mill, turning right onto a path that followed the river's contour into town.

  Olly's words were playing on my mind. Plant the seeds together, your love will grow forever. Was he referring to a boyfriend or girlfriend Kris had back in Lydovia? For some reason, the thought made my stomach sink.

  When I'd overheard Olly, part of me thought that maybe Olly had made an assumption and was referring to Kris and me, which was ridiculous. After all, we'd only just met, we were in Chester Falls temporarily, and I wasn't even sure Kris was gay.

  Kris carried himself with such grace as though he was on a catwalk. I thought about the expensive suits I sold at work and the designer labels. It was clear from Kris's outfit that he had a lot of money. His casual clothes would have cost me more than a month's wages, and I was pretty sure the shirt Kris had on wasn't even on sale in department stores.

  It didn't matter anyway.

  "What doesn't matter?" Kris asked.

  "What?"

  "You said, ′it doesn't matter, anyway.′"

  "Oh, er, nothing important. I was thinking about, er, nothing. Why are you here?" I blurted out as an attempt to change the subject.

  "Just rest—"

  "And recuperation, yes, you said last night. You're wearing designer clothes, and you're from one of the richest countries in Europe. You could be anywhere: a spa hotel, a Scottish castle. Why here?"

  Kris looked down, and I felt bad for asking. I didn't want to pry, but I was curious.

  "It's complicated."

  "I'm a good listener," I said.

  We came to a set of stone steps that led right into the water. It was the perfect place.

  "Let's sit here. Why don't you buy me coffee and a cookie?" I winked.

  Kris smiled, looking a little more relaxed as he sat next to me and unscrewed the cups from the top of the flask so he could pour the hot coffee.

  I took my sketchbook and pencils from my small rucksack and opened it on a blank page. Kris narrowed his eyes, so I clarified.

  "I like drawing. Now, you talk. Charlie listen," I said as I picked the right pencil for what I had in mind.

  Kris sighed. "Okay. My ex did something that made it look like I'd done it. The press jumped on it, so now I'm here hiding until I have to attend an event in a few weeks."

  I looked up. "Are you like, a famous person, or something?"

  "Or something."

  Kris leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and holding the coffee cup in his hands.

  We were silent for a moment. I noticed the strong lines of Kris's fingers, the small veins I could see under the skin, and the perfect nails. Kris caressed the rim of the cup with his thumb, and I wondered what it would be like to feel Kris's touch. Would it be soft and light? Or would it be strong and rough? I wasn't sure I minded which, as long as it came from Kris.

  I barely even noticed what I was drawing anymore. It was like the pencil had a mind of its own. When Kris gripped the cup harder, the pencil pressed harder on the paper, creating darker lines.

  "I knew we wouldn't be together forever," Kris said, "but he was, is, my best friend. He's the only one I could ever tell everything. I'm afraid I may have messed that up too."

  "If he was your best friend, surely you can work it out."

  Kris took a sip of the coffee, put the cup down, and took a cookie out of the bag. It was a chocolate cookie with chocolate chips, my favorite. Normally, I would have squealed and taken my own cookie out of the bag, but I couldn't take my eyes off Kris now.

  All around us was nature, the river, trees, wildflowers, and the occasional duck or swan would swim past us. I was aware of it all, but my eyes were locked on Kris's mouth as he took a bite of the cookie, chewed it, and then swallowed. His Adam's apple bobbing up and down with the movement.

  I wanted to take it all in so I could draw it later on my bigger pad. My eyes were like magnifying glasses, zeroing in on the uneven hairs of Kris's short stubble, his eyes that looked so dark they were almost black, and the little beauty mark right under Kris's earlobe that looked like a crescent moon.

  Kris looked at me and our gazes locked. I'd never in my life wanted to kiss someone more. Not even when I'd been in the secret relationship with Rory did I ever feel the same way. Sure, I'd enjoyed kissing Rory, but after we broke up, I'd always wondered if I'd just enjoyed the excitement of trying not to get caught.

  "Charlie." Kris's deep and raspy voice brought me out of my head, and I sat up just a little straighter.

  "I'm sorry, I was just…er, you have great lines."

  "I have what?" Kris chuckled.

  I covered my face with my hands to hide my embarrassment. I'd never minded my red hair and pasty white skin much, they were just part of who I was, but as I'd grown older, I'd realized how my outside was just a mirror image of the inside, as though I was totally transparent.

  From between my fingers, I saw Kris pick up the small sketchbook from where it had fallen by my feet.

  "Charlie."

  I looked up. Kris was staring at the drawing.

  "I'm sorry. It's not great. Maybe I should have drawn one of the swans. That would have been easier. It's just, er…the way you were holding the cup and your hands. I really wanted to draw them."

  "This is beautiful. Honestly. I didn't know you were an artist."

  "I'm not. I'm just a manager in the menswear department of a store. I sell expensive clothes to men with more money than fashion sense. That's all."

  Kris put his hand on mine, and I looked at where they connected.

  "See my hand?" he asked. "How it curves as I hold on to yours? It's organic, it's real, and it can move."

  I closed my eyes as Kris's fingers caressed the skin of
my knuckles. I took a deep breath and opened my eyes again.

  "You drew my hand like it was a living thing. I know it sounds ridiculous, but I can see my feelings in that drawing, in the way my hand is gripping the mug. You have a rare talent, Charlie."

  Kris's words hit me right in the place I'd kept closed off so I didn't have to face the reality that drawing was my life passion, and without it, I simply existed without living. Kris's words hit me right in the heart.

  "Charlie, can I ask you something?"

  "Sure," I choked.

  "Will you draw me?"

  7

  Kris

  I didn't know what possessed me to ask Charlie to draw my picture. I hadn't liked the lack of self-confidence that came out of Charlie when he'd looked at the drawing. It was such a simple but perfect sketch of my hands curled around the coffee cup. I saw life in it. I saw the frustration and sadness I'd felt when I'd told Charlie about messing my friendship up with Sergei.

  Or maybe it was a lot simpler than that; I wanted any excuse to spend more time with Charlie. I wanted to get to know him beyond the superficial stuff we'd talked about last night over dinner.

  Charlie was gentle and kind. Sergei would have chewed the head off Stephanie for assuming what he'd want for dinner, and he would have ordered something else just to spite her. He would have demanded the most expensive wine on the list instead of whatever local ale they had on draft. Not that Sergei was a bad person or a spoiled one; he'd simply grown up in a world where he'd had to build a certain amount of armor to fit in.

  Charlie and Sergei couldn't be more different on the surface, and I wanted more of Charlie. To run my hands through Charlie's red hair, to touch the skin running down from his neck to his chest and see if it blushed under my touch too.

  "What?" Charlie asked, his eyes like a deer in the headlights.

  "Would you draw me?"

  "Oh, er, I don't know. Are you sure?"

  "Absolutely." I took another cookie out of the bag and gave it to Charlie. He licked his lips before he took a bite.

  "These are my favorite cookies in the world," Charlie said, his mouth full.

  "I'll have to thank Benny."

  We drank the rest of the coffee and finished the cookies in the bag. Well, Charlie had most of them, which I had really enjoyed watching.

  "Charlie, can I see more of your drawings?"

  Charlie hesitated but then took the sketchbook from his rucksack and passed it to me.

  The picture on the first page was of two pigeons side by side on a power line. Even though the drawing was in pencil, it was incredibly detailed with enough shades of gray that it made the birds look real. Each picture after that was exactly the same. It was as if Charlie could feel what the subject of his drawings was feeling, and when it was an inanimate subject, he gave them purpose, a place in the world.

  "I don't know what to say, Charlie. This is beautiful. You said you work in a store. Why?" I asked.

  "What do you mean?"

  "Why aren't you an artist?"

  He looked down and played with a small pebble that was near his shoe.

  "I'll rephrase that. You are an artist, Charlie. Why isn't this your job?"

  Charlie got up and started walking. I stumbled up, grabbing our belongings and catching up with Charlie.

  "Wait, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."

  "You're not upsetting me. I want to be an artist. It's all I ever wanted to be," Charlie said.

  "Then why?"

  "It's not easy to sell your art when you don't have connections. When I finished my degree, I was one of many talented artists," Charlie said, raising his hands to quote the word talented. "Some had trust funds, parents with connections, or luck. I had none of those, and I couldn't go home, so I found a job in retail."

  "Why couldn't you go home?"

  Charlie walked in silence, kicking little stones here and there. I didn't want to press the subject, but I wanted to understand, and at the moment, I didn't.

  I wasn't sure how long it would take to get to town, but I hoped by the time we got there I'd be able to make Charlie feel better. I thought of the leaflets I had in my pockets with the local activities.

  "I didn't want to prove him right. That's why I didn't go home."

  "Who?"

  "Rory, my ex. He always said art was a pointless degree, that I would never make a decent living and would always struggle. He was right."

  I had the sudden urge to punch this Rory guy. Who the hell did he think he was to tell Charlie he couldn't follow his dreams or do something he was clearly born to do?

  Charlie stopped and faced me.

  "It doesn't matter anyway," he said.

  He looked sad and resigned.

  I took a step closer to Charlie and put my hands on either side of his face, tilting Charlie's head up so I could see his beautiful green eyes.

  "It matters, Charlie," I said, no louder than a whisper. "Your dreams matter. You matter."

  A small tear escaped Charlie's eye, and I caught it with my thumb.

  "I'm sorry, I didn't want to upset you."

  Charlie rested his hands on my waist and shook his head. My heart skipped a beat at the easy way in which Charlie leaned on me.

  "You didn't upset me. I guess this is a sore subject made worse because I'll have to face him at the wedding."

  "Why is he going to be at the wedding if you're no longer together?"

  "He's my brother's best friend, and he's been around so long he's like part of the family." Charlie sighed. "Our relationship was a secret."

  "So, when you said yesterday staying at your parents was a trap…"

  "He's having work done at his place, and since he's helping out with the wedding… I didn't know he was crashing in my room. He told everyone he'd be happy to share with me."

  I had a renewed hatred for Rory now for using Charlie's sister's wedding as an opportunity to get to Charlie, and right under his family's nose.

  The unexpected urge to pull Charlie even closer and wrap my arms around him was strong. I wanted to give Charlie something, but I wasn't sure what, so I offered comfort and empathy.

  Charlie's head fitted so perfectly in the crook of my neck. I didn't even try to stop myself from breathing in the scent of Charlie's hair. It smelled of green apples, fresh and sweet.

  "Thank you," Charlie said into my chest.

  "Any time."

  We parted and carried on our walk by the river. Charlie was still more silent than I'd have liked, but he didn't seem as upset.

  "I've been looking forward to my sister's wedding for months. I didn't think he'd be here. His parents travel a lot, but once a year around this time, they all get together and go on vacation to Cape Cod. He must have canceled it to come to the wedding."

  I couldn't do anything about the wedding and Rory, but maybe I could do something for Charlie.

  "Do you trust me?"

  Charlie looked at me from the corner of his eye with raised brows.

  "Let me think. Since I've met you, I've been dragged down to the floor, injured my arm, crashed into you, and I've had strangers picking my meals. You're the common denominator here so…" He shrugged.

  I laughed. "Okay, but since you met me, you've had personalized medical care, great company, and the best cookies in the world, so…" I shrugged as though it was enough to balance Charlie's argument.

  "You have a point; those cookies were pretty great. And there was the hug too. I enjoyed that."

  My belly was suddenly full of butterflies. The return of Charlie's easy smile did things to me I was only beginning to accept could happen with someone other than Sergei for the first time in my life.

  "Argument settled. How would you feel about—"

  "Charlie?"

  I was interrupted by a woman calling Charlie's name from a distance.

  Charlie picked up his pace to meet the woman, so I figured they knew each other. She was wearing the tightest workout outfit, and I wondered how she
could even breathe without tearing the stitches out. Her face was also fully made up. An interesting contrast, I thought.

  "Hi, Aunt G. What are you doing here?"

  "Hi, darling," she said, kissing Charlie on both cheeks. "These champagne breakfasts are delightful, but they are not good for my waist. You know a girl of a certain age needs to make an extra effort." She got closer to Charlie as though she was going to tell him a secret. "Guess who's not coming to the wedding?"

  "I don't really—"

  "Gary and Lisa Rich. Apparently…" She looked around so no one would overhear, even though there was no one else around apart from Charlie and I. "Apparently, Gary was having an affair with the neighbors' daughter who's a teaching assistant at the college, and because all their money was Lisa's, she kicked him out of the house."

  "Does this mess up Hannah's seating plan?"

  It didn't surprise me that the first thing out of Charlie's mouth was worry for his sister.

  "No, I don't think so. Speaking of the seating plan, Rory has been asking for you, something about helping him do something for Connor?"

  "Oh."

  "Anyway, I can tell him I saw you."

  "Um, that's okay Aunt G."

  Charlie's posture was so rigid I was afraid he'd snap in two.

  "Good morning, Ma'am, how do you do?" I said, making eye contact and holding out my hand to Charlie's aunt. Her eyes bulged like she hadn't noticed I'd had been there all along.

  "Oh, hi…hello."

  I brought her hand up for a gentle kiss on her knuckles, and she let out a sigh. I smiled to myself; the old trick always worked.

  She was still holding onto my hand when she asked Charlie, "Darling, who is this delightfully polite young man? Not to mention delectable."

  Charlie took half a step closer to me as though he was prepared to defend me against his aunt's claws. I chuckled.

  "Aunt G, this is Kris. Kris, this is my aunt, Gina. She's not normally a sex-crazed wildcat with sharp claws, but it must be mating season."

  I laughed.

  "Oh, shut up. I'm barely a house cat," she purred. "So, Kris, what are your intentions with my favorite nephew here?"

  I felt heat rising up my face, and I wasn't sure even my tanned complexion could hide it when I was under the scrutiny of Charlie's Aunt Gina.