Now it made sense why she'd pulled away. She had this vow to uphold.
He swallowed hard. He didn't know if Mia lumped him in the category with those other jerks, but he did know one thing. None of them deserved her. And he would never push for what she wasn't ready to give.
He squeezed her shoulders lightly. She tipped her head and tucked into the space between his neck and shoulder, apparently spent.
He just held her, trying to ignore the pounding of his heart.
Mia might put off a joyful, vivacious personality, but there were hurts beneath that he'd never expected.
He'd been wrong to want something from her. All she needed was a friend.
I promised I wouldn't kiss anyone... Unless it was the man I planned to marry.
He would never be that man. A princess would never marry someone as dirt poor as he, someone with no prospects.
But he could be the friend she thought he already was.
* * *
Alessandra sat in the darkened living room, curled into the couch.
Mia had refused to speak to her on the long ride home from Dallas, ignoring every overture and only looking out the window.
After a few tries, Alessandra had given up.
She'd messed things up with Mia.
The awful thing was, she probably felt a lot of the same things her sister felt. Betrayed by her father. Hurt.
And then there were the questions. Had her mother known, before she'd died? Why hadn't they been enough for Father?
What was their sister like? Did she know about them?
Mostly, Alessandra felt guilty. She blamed herself for not telling Mia sooner. She should've told her sister back in Glorvaird, or even better, forced Eloise to bring her into their chat when Alessandra had found out.
Weren't their relationships fractured enough? She'd known keeping secrets wouldn't be healthy for them, but she'd done it anyway.
She was so stupid.
The light went on in the hall, and she shrank even further into the couch, hoping that whoever it was—one of the cowboys, probably—would pass on by without seeing her.
"Alessandra?"
No luck. Gideon strode into the room, as if he'd sensed her hiding there. Should've gone up to her bedroom while she'd had the chance.
Things had been strained between them since the other night.
Are we making a mistake here? he'd asked.
And it had broken something inside her, hearing those words. She'd been blissfully happy.
Ignorant maybe. Hadn't had an inkling that Gideon continued to struggle with leaving his family behind for months at a time.
Again, she felt stupid. How could she not have realized?
Gideon's protective nature had been one of the things about him she'd first fallen for. He'd made her feel safe, even when she'd been running for her life.
It wasn't realistic to think he'd be able to just turn it off, even though he'd made a huge sacrifice to be a part of her life.
She didn't think she'd made a noise, but he rounded the couch and came right to her.
He sat next to her, not quite touching.
She stretched the sleeves of her long-sleeved T-shirt to cover her hands and used the material to wipe beneath her eyes.
"Allie-girl," he said roughly, the nickname he rarely used.
"I'm okay." She tried to put on a brave face. She went for a smile, but she felt it wobble a bit.
She knew Gideon had put enormous pressure on himself to find the thief. He was worried about Carrie, too. She didn't want to add to his burden.
But his big, warm palm came to rest at her lower back. He exerted gentle pressure, pulling her to him and, weak as she was, she crawled into his embrace.
"I heard from one of the security detail that you and Mia had a fight," he said into the crown of her head. "She found out about the missing princess?"
She nodded, misery leaching over her anew.
He held her for a long time, not speaking. Then, finally, "I'm sorry for how all this played out."
Her stomach clenched into a tight little ball. Was he going to say that being with her wasn't worth all the trouble? Had be given up on them?
"This theft really hit me hard, and I've handled things all wrong. Especially with you. I'm sorry."
She couldn't help the tears that welled in her eyes, though she wished she could stem them.
She swallowed back a sob. "I'm sorry I didn't realize you were still struggling with the reality of being with me."
"I'm not." He said the words instantly, as if it were his gut reaction. It made her feel marginally better.
He exhaled, his breath ruffling the fine hair at her temple. "If I'd had my head on straight in the beginning... If I hadn't made excuses when you told me you wanted to be together, you wouldn't have a question in your mind right now. I don't regret choosing you, Allie-girl. I love you."
Hearing his words made her tear up again. "I love you too," she said through a tight throat.
"We'll get things figured out here," he said. "Maybe make some changes about how things are run. Everything will settle down."
She should be reassuring him, but he was doing that for her.
"Whatever you need from me," she told him, "I'm here."
He squeezed her lightly. "Mia will come around."
She hoped so. She needed to heal the rift with her sister.
6
Late afternoon, the day of the ball, Ethan wrapped up with the dairy cows. He was filthy and in desperate need of a shower.
And there was a small part of him that was excited. Anticipating seeing Mia in her fine ball gown.
Over the past week, the couple of texts they'd shared each day had escalated into phone calls. Sometimes hours-long calls that had him staying up past his usually-early bedtime.
He found he didn't miss the sleep.
After her revelation about the vow she'd made, they'd kept things carefully in the Friend Zone. There had been no more practice dances. No more embraces.
She'd told him all about her life in Glorvaird. About her passion for working with battered women. That she couldn't cook a bit. He'd told her everything he remembered about his dad. About how difficult it had been to give up his college dreams. That he'd always wanted to be a veterinarian, but probably never would.
She was the best friend he'd ever had.
And he hadn't been able to keep from falling in love with her. He never planned to tell her. It just was. Part of him, intrinsic to his being.
He loved Princess Mia.
He made his way from the dairy barn to the trailer, pausing to give Peanut a belly rub at the back porch.
He could hear the boys tussling inside before he opened the back door. They'd been edgy and difficult all week. He'd tried talking to them. Tried to bring up the tutoring again with no results.
He sighed, hand on the doorknob. He'd told them he'd be gone for the evening, and they'd had their laugh at his expense. Like everyone else in town, they'd seen the tabloids and knew that Mia had rich, famous suitors at her neck and call. They couldn't understand his friendship with the princess, but that didn't matter to him.
Mia had asked him to go tonight, so he would.
He opened the door to see Robbie take down Sam in a combination football tackle and chokehold—except Sam was wearing a familiar gray suit coat.
Was that—?
"No!" Ethan shouted as he watched in horror. Amidst his brothers wrestling, one sleeve ripped completely off of his father's suit coat.
Robbie and Sam straightened. Neither had the good grace to look abashed. From where he stood, Ethan could see the inside lining of the jacket hanging loose, torn in two places.
The suit pants were crumpled on the floor, a discarded chocolate bar melting atop them, no doubt staining the material irrevocably.
"Are you—? What the—?" He couldn't even get a fell sentence out past the knot of anger lodged in his throat.
"What did you do?" he fina
lly managed.
"Aw, Eeth," Sam said. "We saw this hanging in your closet and thought it would be fun to try it on."
He fisted his hands at his sides, shaking from the rush of adrenaline and anger and despair. "You knew I was planning to go to Mia's ball tonight."
Robbie laughed. Actually laughed. "You were planning to wear that old junk suit?"
"It was my dad's," Ethan said.
"Uh, yeah," Robbie said, "and it's way outta style."
Ethan was unable to find words. No matter if they disagreed with the style or would laugh at him all day long, the suit was his. Not theirs. What right did they have to touch it? None.
"After everything I've done for you, everything I've given you—this is how you repay me?"
Robbie laughed again, a cruel sound. "Everything you've given us? Like what? This dingy trailer and rice and beans five times a week? Like how you can't even afford to get us a truck of our own? And how you constantly nag us to clean up and do our homework? You call that taking care of us?"
The words hit Ethan like a physical punch. Before he could respond, Robbie said, "C'mon Sam."
He jerked his thumb to the door, and Sam followed him, discarding the ruined suit coat on the floor as he did so.
They left, and the silence that remained seemed deafening.
Ethan moved on numb legs to pick up the pants and suit coat. He knew before looking that there was no way they could be repaired, even if he had more than the two hours before the ball was scheduled to start.
He laid them out on the worn sofa anyway.
And felt like crying. This suit was one of the last things he had of his father, and it was utterly ruined. Completely demolished.
It wasn't just the suit, it was losing his dad. Losing the dream of the life he'd wanted.
Suddenly, the unfairness of it all pressed down on him. No matter Robbie's rude, ungrateful words, Ethan knew he'd done his best by the boys. So what if they ate simple meals? At least they ate. They had a roof over their heads, even if it was a mobile home and not a fancy brick house.
Still shaking with anger and hurt, he made his way out of the front door and sat on the stoop, where he'd sat with Mia a week ago, where he'd promised himself to be her friend and not to expect more.
If he didn't show up at the ball, she was going to be disappointed. Maybe even hate him a little, since he'd promised to be there. He'd be just as bad as the other men who'd let her down.
She was heading back to Glorvaird in a couple of days. Tonight was one of his last chances to see her. Who knew when she'd come back again.
His stepbrothers had ruined everything.
He clutched his head in his hands, pressed his elbows to his knees. Stared at the step between his work boots, trying to figure out some kind of solution.
The sound of tires on gravel drew his gaze up. Whoever it was, he wasn't in the mood for company.
He was shocked to recognize the veterinarian's work truck.
She met him near the steps. "Doesn't look like you're getting all gussied up for that fancy party."
He shrugged helplessly. "You heard about that, huh?"
"You left your phone on the back counter in the office earlier in the week. I might've seen a text from your princess about it. What's keeping you from it?"
His princess. Oh, how he wished.
He went inside and brought the ripped jacket and soiled pants out, held them up for her to see.
"Wow. Your stepbrothers?"
He nodded miserably.
But there was a suspicious twinkle in her eyes as she went back to her truck and ducked inside the driver's side door. "I had my suspicions that those two might try to ruin this for you," she called over her shoulder.
She had? He hadn't seen it coming at all.
And then, "That's why I brought this."
She turned and lifted a garment hanging inside transparent plastic. A tuxedo.
His heart starting beating again. "What's this?"
"James"—her adult son—"bought it for his wedding and hasn't used it since. I borrowed it. And these." She held up a pair of black dress boots, slicked and shiny in the afternoon light. "Y'all are about the same size."
His throat tightened. "I can't—"
"It's on loan." She moved forward and thrust the garment bag into his hands, leaving him no choice but to take it.
"Thank you." She couldn't know how much this meant to him. That someone had noticed. That she'd gone out of her way to make this kind gesture.
She'd saved his day.
Maybe she did know, because her eyes now held a twinkle that looked suspiciously like unshed tears. "And Ethan? Comb your hair."
* * *
Gideon waited with Alessandra in a small dressing room upstairs in the McMansion they'd rented out for the ball.
An engagement ball. He'd known better than to argue about it, knew that because of his fiancée's royal blood, there would be expectations.
He'd just as soon have gotten together with their closest friends and had a party over a pile of wings or grilled hamburgers.
"It's packed out there." Alessandra turned from where she'd been peeking through a crack in the outer door, closing it softly behind her. The huge skirt of her royal blue dress swished softly as she moved toward him. She smoothed it nervously, her long white gloves contrasting with the dark fabric.
He'd only seen her in a tiara once before, but she wore one tonight, with her hair swept up in a complicated twist high on her head. Her shoulders were bare and showed off a glittering sapphire necklace that probably cost more than his entire spread.
"That's good, right?" He'd bulked up the event security with a team he'd assembled from local law enforcement and some SEAL friends who were on leave and able to help him out.
He couldn't resist checking his phone. No new messages, which should mean everything was running like it should be. No one had tried to hop the security fence. Nothing suspicious was showing up on the series of security cameras he'd spent the week installing.
He slipped the phone back into the inside breast pocket of his jacket, but not before he caught Alessandra's frown. "Sorry," he said, with an unrepentant grin. Maybe he'd gone overboard, but he refused to take chances, not after what'd happened to Alessandra before.
"Do you remember the steps to our dance?" she pressed.
He moved forward, pant legs brushing against the hem of her dress as he got close enough to take her gloved hand.
"Stop worrying." He gave her hand a squeeze.
They'd had a private instructor visit the Triple H, and he'd learned a complicated waltz over the past two weeks. Here in a bit, when all the guests had arrived, Mia would announce them as a couple, and they'd make a grand entrance down a wide, curving staircase that led to the ground floor of the mansion. Three large ballrooms emptied into the grand foyer, every surface covered with marble. He and Alessandra would have a special dance together and then, according to his future bride, all he had to do was stand in a receiving line with her and greet their guests. Maybe mingle a bit later. Shake hands and smile.
He wasn't sure he believed it would be that easy, but he'd worked difficult missions and intended to see this one through.
Alessandra smiled tremulously at him. "Are you sure—really sure—you don't want to back out? We haven't been seen together publicly before now, so if there's any chance you want to call it off—"
"I don't." He cursed himself for the abrupt words he'd spoken two weeks ago that had made her believe he might not be in this for the long haul. "I love you, and we're getting married next spring."
Her lips trembled minutely. She sniffed delicately. He knew the stylist had taken a long time—over a half hour—to get her makeup just right. She wouldn't want to ruin it by crying.
He squeezed her hand again. "I'd kiss you if I weren't worried about messing up your lipstick. Your stylist is a little frightening. All those little metal tools..."
She smiled, like he'd hoped she woul
d, the tense moment past.
They still had to find out who the thief was. There'd been some issue with the digital video, and the bank had had to request a backup copy. It was supposed to arrive first thing Monday morning.
Then there was going to be a reckoning on the ranch.
* * *
Ethan stood at the top of a secondary staircase in the huge mansion that someone called home. He'd arrived early enough to check in with the scary security dude at the front door—thank God Mia had gotten his name on the list—and to witness Mia announce the happy couple, who'd proceeded down the large main staircase like royalty—which Alessandra was—and then danced a complicated dance to the live violin and cello music playing from the center of the house.
From across the room, he'd only been able to catch a glimpse of Mia, who wore a powder-blue gown. Separated by probably a hundred and fifty guests in their fancy tuxedos and long dresses, he hadn't been able to get the crowd to part for him to make his way over to her. Then she'd disappeared completely.
So he'd climbed these stairs to see if he could spot her from above.
He'd checked his cell phone several times, in case she was trying to locate him. Then he figured she might not have her phone on her with that fancy, frilly dress. Did something like that even have pockets?
One ugly whisper that sounded suspiciously like his stepmother's voice reverberated in his mind. She doesn't really want you here.
He tried his best to ignore the insidious voice, but it was difficult. Especially in light of his stepbrothers' actions from earlier in the day.
Then he spotted her. She moved effortlessly through the crowd, greeting those around her with the smile that never failed to make him week in the knees.
She looked up, caught sight of him. She was still halfway across the room, but he clearly saw the way her smile changed. Became more real somehow. A special smile, just for him.
He saw her lips form his name as she started toward the staircase.
Heart pounding in his ears, he made his way down the steps to meet her. The unfamiliar boots were a size too small and pinched his feet, but the cut of the borrowed tuxedo fit well, just enough room for his shoulders in the jacket.
Cowboy Fairytales Omnibus Page 16