by Lyz Kelley
I picked at a hangnail until it bled, working up the courage. “Why? You don’t think I should date a Fae prince?”
She merged onto the freeway, and her lips pressed together. “Have you given any thought about a possible future with Piran?”
Shrugging, I stared out the side window. “Not really.”
“Do you honestly believe he’d marry you someday? You’re not Fae, much less a Guardian Fae. I’m not trying to be insensitive, honey, but certainly, you must be aware that you’re not the kind of girl a prince would take for a wife. And while his parents rule an entire province, your parents work their butts off simply to pay the mortgage.”
Tears welled in my eyes, but I kept my focus on the traffic.
Mom cleared her throat. “As my mother always said, there are plenty of fish in the sea. And while that might sound like a stupid saying—”
Yeah, it did. I crossed my arms.
“—my point is there are many wonderful boys who would love to date you.”
Uh-huh. Look at ‘em all lining up and down the street.
“If you just gave them half the chance. It wouldn’t kill you to dress up once in a while. Wear make-up to accent those beautiful eyes of yours. Get some highlights in your hair. Then be friendly and engaging! Perhaps talk about something other than bike racing.”
I glared at her, but she didn’t notice.
“But strive for a local boy, honey. Someone more like us. Opposites might attract, but long-lasting couples have similar backgrounds and values. Perhaps that nice, young man who works at the bike shop. Nick, right?”
I groaned. If only I could tune her out. The car was too damn hot, and my shirt stuck to my damp back. I lowered my window.
“Close your window, we’re on the highway,” she exclaimed over the sudden roar.
“Then turn on the air conditioning,” I grumbled.
She clicked the dial, and the air conditioner cranked up, filling the car with a funny, stale odor. I waited until the smell dissipated before closing my window.
Mom’s hand patted mine. “I know you’re hurting, Bay, but better to find out now about Piran before things got serious.”
Right. Except things were already serious. At least to me. A lump in my throat, I slipped my hand out from beneath hers. She didn’t understand me. I sighed. Would she ever?
My cell phone vibrated for the fourth time, and I rolled over on my bed and picked it up. Not sure why I bothered, since I had no intention of answering it. I stared at Piran’s name on the screen, the characters blurring, before I tossed the phone down and flopped over on my back.
Faint moonlight spilled in through the crevices of my bamboo window shade, casting weird shadows around my dark bedroom. I threw my arm over my eyes and kicked off the sheet, wishing I could ramp up the ceiling fan to high without it roaring like a tornado.
Sleep was nothing but a far-off dream.
I rolled onto my side and clutched my pillow. My phone chimed, loud and perky, and I slapped the damn thing, before dragging it under my nose to read the text message.
“Please talk to me.”
Piran had never texted me before. I stared at the message, gripped by anguish or regret or anger. My damn emotions so mixed, I had no clue what I was feeling.
I tapped my phone’s keypad. “Why?”
“I love you. Please answer.”
Answer what? Robins chirped outside my window. God, what time was it? Four thirty in the morning. Crap. Had I slept at all?
My phone vibrated. Oh, answer that. I tapped the Decline button. Damn, he was persistent. I closed my eyes. A sour taste wormed its way up from my gut to the back of my throat, making it hard to swallow. Ugh. I was too young for acid reflux.
The phone chimed with another text message, and I opened my eyes.
“I am dying inside.”
Good. That made two of us. I picked up my phone and texted him back. “I need time.”
“No. Now. We must talk.”
He called again, and this time my finger hovered over the touchscreen. I tapped the Answer button. “So talk.”
“Bailey, I love you.” His words came out in a rush. “Please do not shut me out.”
Twisting my hair around my finger, I said nothing.
“Had you known I was a prince,” he continued, “you would not have given me a second look.”
“What?” I blurted, inadvertently yanking my hair so hard my eyes watered.
“The reason you are so mad at me is the very reason you are perfect for me. You are not swayed by money and fame. So many girls from my homeland threw themselves at me. They did not see me, they saw only a prince, a means to an end. Yet with you, I could be myself.”
“Oh, Piran,” I whispered.
“I do not wish to be a prince, Bailey. I do not wish to attend boring elaborate dinners with foreign dignitaries, or stand by my father’s side while he makes sweeping proclamations. I do not wish to inspect our Armed Guard, of which I know nothing, or officiate at the coronation of yet another lord. And I would rather sink to the bottom of our lake than study the documents of our province or serve on the Fae High Council.”
His sigh cut me to the core.
“I’m so sorry.” If only I had something more meaningful to say, but eloquence wasn’t exactly my forte. Grimacing, I rubbed the heel of my palm over my forehead. This whole experience had left me emotionally drained, tired, and with a headache.
Was he right though? Would I have avoided him had I known he was a prince?
A stab of guilt pierced my chest, and I took a deep, pained breath and closed my eyes. Yes, he was right. I would have run—not walked—as far as I could from him, assuming he’d be arrogant, shallow, greedy, and cold. A complete dick.
Everything he wasn’t.
“Bailey? Are you still there?”
I blinked. “Um, yeah, still here.”
“Good.” He paused. “I cannot wait to see you again.”
I could hear the grin in his voice. The happiness should have been mutual, except my mother’s words kept running through my head. You’re not the kind of girl a prince would take …
My throat thickened. “Me too.”
Sunlight dappled across my bed, and my head drooped. “I need to get some sleep, Piran. I have to work later today.”
“Yes, sweet Bailey,” he said softly. “I will call you tonight.”
“Uh-huh,” I mumbled into the phone, cradling my pillow.
Woozy, twinkle, floating … blessed sleep.
A hysterical scream penetrated my consciousness, and then a thud. “Ouch! Why are your damn shoes in the way?”
Kelsi dropped onto my bed, nearly sending me over the other edge. “Oh my God! Mom just told me about Piran. I can’t believe it!”
“Go away. I need sleep.” I ducked under my pillow.
“Are you kidding me?” She tugged on my arm. “Get up. It’s nine already.”
“Please,” I groaned. “I didn’t get to sleep until like five.”
“Too bad. Anyway, don’t you have to work today?”
I whimpered. “In two hours.”
Kelsi laughed. “Come on. I’ll treat you to a latte.”
“Make it a white chocolate mocha with an extra shot. And a piece of coffeecake.”
“Fine. But you better spill all the details.”
I rolled out of bed, showered, and dressed in fifteen minutes.
“I’ll drive,” Kelsi declared after I made it downstairs. “You still look asleep.”
Once at the coffee shop, we ordered our drinks and sat down at one of the outdoor tables. My sister eagerly listened as I filled her in on what had happened at the gallery.
I took a sip of my latte and set it down. “And to top it off, Mom told me I’m not the kind of girl Piran would be serious with, you know. I’m not the kind of girl he’d marry.”
“Marry?” Kelsi repeated, wrinkling her nose. “Ugh. You’re only twenty-one.”
“Good point.” I wiped coffeecake crumbs off my fingers. “But I can’t seem to forget Nick telling me Fae guys just use girls for sex. Is that all I am to Piran? A plaything?”
“No, Bay.” Kelsi smirked. “You’re thinking about this the wrong way. You’re not his plaything. He’s your plaything.”
“Riiiight. Piran the Fae prince is my boy toy.” I snorted in laughter, then shook my head. “No, that’s not me. You know that.”
She shrugged.
“I see. Tolmin is your boy toy?” I teased.
My sister rolled her eyes, but her cheeks pinkened. “All I’m saying is that marriage is a long way off and there’s nothing wrong with having a fun boyfriend. Know what I mean?”
I drained the last of my mocha, the caffeine buzz clearing my head. “Yeah, but …”
“No buts. And no regrets. Have some fun, Bay.” She winked at a guy in a business suit, and the man stumbled into the railing.
“Sooo …” I needed to change the subject. “Mom said I should wear make-up, get my hair highlighted, and dress up once in a while. What do you think?”
Kelsi’s eyes lit up. “Do you want to go shopping when you get off work? We can go to American Apparel and find you some cute skirts. Oh, and Gigi’s too. Or we could go to the mall. I’m sure one of the salons will take you as a walk-in. How blonde do you want to go with the highlights?” She clapped her hands. “This will be so much fun!”
“Ah, Kelsi?”
Her face slowly crumpled. “You were just screwing with me, weren’t you?” She smacked her forehead with her palm. “Can you say gullible?”
I laughed.
“So what are your plans for after work?” she asked.
Piran flashed through my mind. His sexy smile and deep, reflective eyes. His hypnotic voice and playful laughter. I visualized his broad chest and chiseled abs before my gaze dipped lower, and I shuddered, thinking of him inside me.
Yet disapproving faces crowded him out—Mom, Nick, Coach Vinson, Piran’s father. Even his mother, with her cool air of detachment.
Could I settle for just a casual relationship? All the fun with none of the regrets?
Nope. That wasn’t me. And I did not intend to give my heart away only to have it shattered. Maybe that’s why I’d always shied away from relationships. Risks were for racing.
I stood, grabbed Kelsi’s car keys off the rickety metal table, and tossed them to her.
“My plans after work? I’m gonna ride my bike.”
Chapter 12
Mike, the manager of the bike shop, kept me busy, leaving me little time to dwell on Piran. A shipment of cycling shoes, helmets, and gloves had arrived, and I spent three hours sitting at a computer entering the inventory, and then another two hours re-arranging the stock room.
All without a shred of humor, since both Nick and Tyler had the day off.
My shift done, I signed out and walked to my car, debating whether to call Nick. I really wanted to tell him the news about Piran. On the other hand, I didn’t want to listen to Nick tell me a Fae prince would only date an ordinary human girl for sex.
A thought spun to the forefront of my mind, and I halted on the sidewalk, jiggling my keys in my hand. With Piran’s drool-worthy looks, he could attract a far more sexually experienced girl. But he picked me. I couldn’t help smiling. Take that, Nick.
I unlocked my car and settled in, then noticed a box wrapped in pale blue paper adorned with a dainty gold bow on the passenger seat. Blue and gold. Piran’s colors. My heart skipped a beat. How’d he get in my car? I glanced around quickly, even checking the floor of the backseat to make sure he wasn’t there, before tentatively picking up the box.
My palms suddenly hot, I set the gift down and rubbed my arms, the back of my neck prickling as if I was being watched, but I was alone in my car. Alone with a gift that weirded me out. I was never one to have an overactive imagination, but the box seemed to be calling to me, like some high-pitched frequency only dogs could hear.
Before I knew what diabolical force had come over me, I groped the box like a beast possessed and ripped off the pretty blue paper. I stared at the red letters appearing underneath.
Dashlane Carbon Air.
My jaw dropped. These were five hundred dollar shoes! I opened the box and lifted the cloth—not tissue paper—separating the gleaming white cycling shoes. In disbelief, I gently cradled a shoe, inhaling the fine European leather. God, they even smelled expensive. I stroked the red cleats on the stiff, black sole with trembling fingers.
My dream shoes ever since I’d seen them in a cycling catalog. Oh Piran … My heart soared. I removed the glittery gold bow from the wrapping paper and stuck it to my car’s dash. A forever reminder of his thoughtful present. Grinning, I hugged the shoes. Flowers or jewelry might sway other girls, but Piran knew the way to this girl’s heart.
No, wait. He was not getting off this easily. I carefully set the shoes back in their box and drove home.
The house empty, the lingering aroma of barbecued chicken wafted from the kitchen. I helped myself to leftovers from the fridge, and found the last basket of strawberries, cleverly hidden in the back of the fridge. Too bad, Kelsi.
Engrossed in reading the newspaper, the chime of my phone startled me and sent a strawberry halfway to my mouth to its demise on the floor. Another chime sounded, and I grabbed my phone. I read the two text messages from Shannon.
“You available? Call me!”
“I’m dying to train with you! You going on the Tuesday night ride?”
I called Shannon, and she answered right away. “Bailey! You riding tonight or what?”
Her wheels whirred in the background. I heard the click of a gear change as she adjusted her riding speed.
“I’m not cleared to ride outside yet. Sorry. Maybe next week?”
“Poop,” she said. “I need my training partner back!”
“Hey, how about we go for ice cream instead?”
“I wish,” she replied. “But I’m racing this weekend. The Holy Hill race. Can’t have any extra pounds. I have enough trouble climbing that hill, unlike someone I know.”
I laughed. “Holy Hill is an awesome course. Don’t worry. You’ll kill it, girl.”
Shannon snorted. “I’d feel a lot more confident if I had you there to draft behind.”
“Ha! I haven’t ridden in nearly two weeks. I’d be sucking your wheel dust.”
“Doubt it. Ooo, gotta go. We’re riding through Skokie. You know how the cops are here. If you change your mind, we should merge with the Evanston riders in about thirty minutes.”
“Yeah,” I said, a pang of longing in my chest. “Have a good ride.”
She ended the call, and the pang became an ache. I missed being on my bike. Not to mention I could literally feel my hard-earned muscles turning into gelatinous fat.
I stood and hovered near the shoebox resting on the kitchen countertop. It wouldn’t hurt to at least try them on. I removed the shoes from the box—wow, they weighed next to nothing—and popped open the buckles with a satisfying click. After slipping on the shoes, I adjusted the fit. Utter perfection. I twirled around in my kitchen, feeling like Cinderella in her glass slippers.
Except doubt crept all over my happy mood. A normal guy couldn’t afford a five-hundred-dollar apology gift. Was Prince Piran of Sava trying to buy my affections? Was this a sign of things to come? With a groan, I covered my face with my hands. I didn’t want a bunch of expensive gifts from my boyfriend. That just seemed so … possessive.
I shook my head, clearing the negative thoughts. It was only one gift, and it wasn’t as if he’d bought me a brand new car or anything.
And I did need to break them in.
I carried my bike into the basement and hoisted the frame onto my fancy kinetic bike trainer. Working at the bike shop did have its perks. Half-off wholesale price on returned merchandise. And there never seemed to be a shortage of hotshot weekend warriors thinking they’d cycle their way int
o shape only to give up a month later.
After turning on the television, I mounted my bike and warmed up for about ten minutes. Then I switched into high gear. Pedaling hard and fast, I barely noticed the show on the television as the desire to win flowed through my veins and energized my muscles.
My feet felt great. I couldn’t wait to race in these babies.
A half-hour later, sweat dripping down my back and my thighs screaming uncle, I backed off and spent the next half-hour pedaling at a maintenance pace.
Once finished with my workout, I showered and checked my phone for missed calls. Piran’s name blinked on the screen, stark and demanding. I took a deep breath and thumbed the Call button. I had no idea what to say to him or how I should talk to him. Things were different now. How could I possibly be myself around a royal prince?
He answered immediately, as if he’d been waiting with phone in hand. “Hello, sweet Bailey. May I see you tonight?”
Hearing the excitement in his voice, I didn’t have the heart to say no. “Sure.”
“I will pick you up in an hour.”
“Okay. See you soon.”
“Bailey?”
I’d almost disconnected the call. “Um, what?”
“You sound distant.”
I sighed. “I guess we need to talk, Piran.”
There was a pause before he asked, “About?”
“Us.” One word, but it held such meaning.
“I know,” he replied, no longer sounding upbeat. More resigned.
Maybe he thought we could just ignore what happened. Maybe he was right.
As promised, he arrived an hour later. His braid slightly mussed, a few strands of hair hung down the sides of his face. In a plain black T-shirt, faded jeans, and untied, gray Vans shoes, he sure didn’t look like a prince. He just looked like a normal guy … a totally hot guy.
Oh God. I clenched my knees together, resistance weakening.
We walked from my house toward the ice cream shop on Sherman Avenue. Although still humid, the evening air carried cooler breezes while the sun, big and orange, slipped lower in the sky. Piran clasped my hand in his, and my skin awoke at his touch, tingles running up and down my spine.