The Broken Prince (Royal Billionaires of Mondragón Book 3)

by Jewel Allen

  She planted a fist at her hips. “You can’t afford to pay him.”

  “I won’t pay him much.” He paused. “Can you figure out what’s reasonable?”

  Brooke folded her arms across her chest. “Oscar,” she growled. “How long is this guy staying with us, and will we just be paying him?”

  “I figured we could help him until he gets things straightened out. What do you mean will we be paying him?”

  “He’ll be living with us, and we’d be on the hook to pay him? Isn’t free room and board enough of a payment?”

  “Oh.” Some pistons seemed to fire in her sweet brother’s brain. “Yeah. Good idea. But you’re okay with his working here, then? You’ve nagging me for some help for a long time, you know.”

  Brooke grudgingly nodded, a victim of her own advice to her brother.

  “Listen,” he said. “Can’t we at least give him a chance? He might turn out more useful than you think.”

  “If he messes up at all—”

  “I’ll keep an eye on him; don’t worry. Like I said, if you help train him, I know he won’t mess up.”

  “I don’t know about that,” she muttered.

  “So,” Oscar smiled, his forehead relaxing, “you okay with that? I just want to help the guy out.”

  Despite her better judgment, Brooke couldn’t argue with that. Where would the guy go? And maybe he could really help Oscar. “Fine.”

  Oscar flung his arm around her shoulder and gave her a side-hug. “You’re the best.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You’re the one who’s being Christian here.”

  “Well, yeah, but I couldn’t help him without your blessing. I knew you’d say yes.”

  She shook her head as Oscar guided her back into the reception area. He took his arm off her shoulders and walked over to Duke, who’d been checking out the business licenses on the wall. “We’d like to offer you a job with pay and free rent,” Oscar was telling Duke.

  “Oscar,” Brooke said, a warning in her voice.

  Oscar looked back at her. “What?”

  “No pay,” she reminded him.

  “Oh, right.” Oscar clapped the back of his head. “In exchange for your rent, you will work for me. No cash will exchange hands.” He turned back toward Brooke. “Better?”

  Not really, but she nodded.

  Duke looked from one to another and then cast his glance down. “That would be wonderful. Thank you so much.”

  “Perfect, then.” Oscar rubbed his hands gleefully. “Brooke, how about you put up the ‘Closed’ sign for an hour or two and show Duke the ropes on repair?”

  Brooke stared at her brother. “Now?” She could feel Duke staring at her, but she didn’t care. He ought to know that she wasn’t a hundred percent supportive of this.

  “I have to run and pick up Mr. Henson’s boat this morning. I thought I could do it since you don’t like towing.”

  Brooke was stuck between a rock and a hard place. True, she didn’t like to tow, but neither did she look forward to being stuck with Duke for an hour or two.

  “Fine,” she muttered under her breath. “I’ll do it.” She picked up the ‘Closed’ sign and hung it on the outside door. Then she turned to Duke. “Ready?” Without waiting for his answer, she made her way back to the repair bay.

  The building echoed with their footsteps. She led him to a closet with cleanish coveralls. She put hers on and turned to Duke. Fortunately, he was about the same size as Oscar, so he’d found a pair that fit, though a bit snug.

  “Come on,” she said, “this way.”

  At the end of the line of boats, she motioned for him to climb into an old Bayliner. As she got in, she regretted saying yes to this crazy arrangement. It was one thing to repair a boat in that cramped space alongside her brother, but she’d have to do this with this near-stranger. She scrunched to her side as much as possible as she flipped up the engine cover under the back cushion.

  “Do you know your tools?” she asked, opening a toolbox at her feet.

  His expression tightened with concentration. “I think so? For some reason, I know what they do.”

  She gave him a skeptical look. “Just the same, I’ll review the names with you, all right? Better that you’ve at least heard the name once, even for something obvious.”

  “Sure.” He stuffed his hands in the coverall pockets and gazed at her attentively.

  Trying to ignore the pull of those dark eyes, she rattled off the list, picking up each tool as she described it. “There will be a test afterward,” she deadpanned.

  His eyes widened, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. “Really?”

  “I’m just teasing,” she said, smiling until she remembered she wasn’t supposed to be too friendly with him.

  He laughed. “I was scared for a second.” Their gazes collided and held.

  She cleared her throat. “It wouldn’t be that hard if there was one.”

  “Maybe to you. All this sounds so foreign to me.”

  She thought back to his accent. “I noticed you have a bit of an accent, but your English is good. Are you thinking in another language?”

  Again, that expression of concentration. “No, not really. Maybe if someone were to talk to me in another language?”

  “I would, but my Spanish is laughable. I took a year of it, and I can’t say much more than some basic words. I don’t know.”

  “I don’t know either.”

  She felt sorry for him. He looked so lost. She offered a tentative smile. “You’ll get the hang of it, I’m sure.”

  “Speaking English?”

  She stifled a smile. “No. Boat tool names.”

  He held her gaze once again, a spark of gratitude lighting up his eyes. In his expression, she noticed a sweetness that she’d glimpsed under that cocky veneer when they first met. A silent wish to be liked.

  She blinked and cleared her throat. So now she was going to play shrink, was she?

  Firmly, she shoved aside her sympathy for him. It was time to focus once again on the boat. The parts and repair.

  For the next half-hour, she talked about a part and he’d repeat what she said under his breath. He was a quick learner. He didn’t seem to have any symptoms left over from his concussion.

  She was going over how to change a fuel pump when the reception area door opened. For some crazy reason, Brooke blushed as though she’d been caught doing something she shouldn’t.

  They were just talking fuel pumps. Perfectly innocent.

  With his arm next to hers and their faces close together.

  She surfaced for air away from the engine cover, trying to recover her dignity. “Hello there,” she called out.

  Oscar hollered, “I’m back. Your prison sentence is over.” He kept talking to someone in the reception area, and the door shut again.

  “If you ever need help,” she said casually over her shoulder at Duke as she climbed out the boat, “you can ask me.”

  He glanced at her with surprise.

  She raised an eyebrow. “You don’t believe me?”

  “I do. Can I ask why you’re nicer to me?”

  Heat crept up her cheeks. “You’ll be here for a while. We might as well get along.”

  Oscar barged into the repair shop with a customer. Taking advantage of the interruption, Brooke climbed fully off the boat.

  “Thank you,” Duke called out.

  Without looking at him, she yelled back, “You’re welcome.”

  “You look like an over-boiled shrimp, Brooke,” Oscar said, looking into her face as they passed each other. “Do we need to crank up the air in here?”

  “Thanks a lot,” she said, brushing past him and returning to her desk where she gladly hid. As she sat on her worn-out barstool, she glanced with surprise at the wall clock. Two hours had passed, and she hadn’t even realized it.

  That is…of course it was only because she was enjoying talking about boat repair.

  Yes, that was it.

  Ch
apter Nine

  Duke rubbed his nape and stretched his arms. Crouching over an engine for long periods of time was hard on his back.

  “You got all that?” Oscar asked from his hovering position.

  “Yes.” He nodded. “Thank you.”

  Oscar wiped his forehead with his grungy sleeve. “Thank you. This is going to be nice, being able to close up shop sooner. Brooke likes to go down to the lake at the end of the day, and it’s hard when it’s already dark.”

  “What does she do at the lake?” Duke asked casually.

  “You name it, she does it. Paddleboard, swimming, canoeing, cliff-diving.”

  Duke imagined Brooke jumping off those spectacular rocks into the water. “Sounds fun.”

  “Oh, she’s a rabble-rouser. She’s crazy sometimes.”

  “But she’s so serious.”

  Oscar grinned. “Just around you.”

  Duke winced. “I know she doesn’t like me.”

  “Well, here’s my theory. I think she secretly likes you.”

  “She does?” Duke smiled to himself.

  Oscar nodded. “She’s always been around small-town guys who aren’t exactly—you know—smooth operators. But you’re one.”

  Duke bit his lip. “That doesn’t sound nice.”

  “Well, no. Just honest. So of course she’ll fall for you.”

  “I’m not a phony, if that’s what you mean. I’m really just trying to be nice to you guys for being nice to me.”

  “I didn’t meet you before your accident, but I take it you rubbed her the wrong way.”

  “Apparently.” Duke paused. “Does she date much?”

  “Seriously? No. She’s had a few hot summer romances, though.”

  “No, she hasn’t.”

  The men turned to see Brooke standing several feet away from the boat, her fists planted at her hips. “Are you done talking trash about me?”

  Duke exchanged glances with Oscar, who winked. “I was just telling him that you’ve gone out with some dudes who were passing through here. Am I right?”

  “Yes, it’s true.” Her expression turned heated. “Believe me, I’ll never make that mistake again.” She turned with a little huff and left the building, slamming the door.

  “Chase after her,” Oscar said.

  Duke’s eyes bugged out. “Me?”

  “Not if you want to stay alive.” Oscar laughed and punched him on the arm. “Take it easy, buddy. She’s a tough one. Who knows, maybe she’ll soften up as the week goes by.”

  “I hope so,” Duke said. “I hope so.”

  Chapter Ten

  Brooke stomped to the house and, without a moment’s hesitation, grabbed her swimsuit. She changed quickly into the one-piece then pulled shorts and a shirt over it. She was hurt that Oscar would betray her. Talking about her behind her back. But she was also annoyed at Duke for obviously asking too many nosy questions.

  Why were they talking about her dating habits like it was anyone’s business?

  She was glad Duke knew she didn’t date tourists. Especially someone who might even be married in their former life.

  She thought back to his bare ring finger. A little glimmer of hope fought to stay alive. But she was too determined. Shaking her head, she concluded she was better off not getting involved with him.

  When she came out to the sun, Duke was leaving the repair shop. As if the universe were taunting her. He slowed as she got closer. “Sorry,” he said. “We shouldn’t have been talking about you.”

  “Sometimes, I want to slap Oscar upside the head because he does some silly things.” She rolled her eyes and smiled.

  “I think he’s just trying to be a nice brother. Is he older than you?”

  “By two years.”

  “So that makes you…”

  “That’s almost as rude as gossiping about my dating life. Twenty-five.” She smirked. “I’d ask you how old you are, but you know…”

  “Yes, I know.” He stared off in the distance.

  “Listen,” she said, her heart beating fast. “I’m willing to start over, but I need to lay some ground rules.”

  His eyes widened with surprise. “Like what?”

  She kept her voice firm. “I’m not going to date you.”

  His eyes crinkled with amusement.

  “I don’t like you flirting with me,” she said, “so don’t.”

  “You mean talking to you?”

  “Well, you can talk to me.”

  “Good.” He smiled. Slowly.

  Suddenly, she couldn’t breathe. “But you can’t smile at me like that,” she choked out.

  “Like what?”

  She was seized by the sudden realization that he knew full well what he was doing. “Do you really have to ask?”

  His expression softened. “What am I doing?”

  “This is hopeless,” she muttered, gripping her towel.

  He reached out and touched her arm. “I just want to know what makes you uncomfortable.”

  She glanced down at her arm, which burned at his touch, and he let her go. She wanted to say, “Touching me.” But she didn’t want to sound like a prude.

  ”Do we have an understanding?” she said.

  His smile faded. A heartbeat later, he asked, “If I promise not to do any of those things, can I go with you to the lake?”

  She sucked in her breath. Had he not been paying attention to what she was saying? How would spending the afternoon with him help their situation? “Oscar will need you,” she protested.

  Duke looked over his shoulder at the boat shop. “He actually sent me out, saying I should go for a swim while I can.”

  “While you can?” she repeated.

  “While I’m here.” A wistful expression filled his eyes. “You don’t have to take me. I’m sure I can walk over.”

  She felt like a jerk. A mean host. “I can drop you off at a different dock so we don’t have to run into each other,” she teased.

  He studied her solemnly. Like he believed she was that cold.

  “I’m just kidding,” she said.

  A slow smile formed on his lips, understanding filling his eyes. “Yes, you can drop me off somewhere else.”

  His smile made her stomach flutter. Why did she let him affect her so much? Of course, he wasn’t helping. Didn’t she just tell him not to flirt?

  She gestured toward her truck. “Climb on in.”

  “Only if you’re sure.”

  “Come on,” she said, smirking. “Before I change my mind. I even packed some snacks.”

  “Sounds good.” But he still didn’t move to the truck.

  “Well?” She raised an eyebrow.

  “It’s just…I thought you didn’t want to date me.”

  “Well, this isn’t a date,” she retorted. “I was just trying to be friendly. You don’t have to come. Never mind. It was a dumb idea. See you later.”

  As she turned toward the truck, his hand shot out and circled her arm. “Hey.”

  She could smell his clean soap scent, mingling with engine grease. Reddish hair in his scruff glinted in the sun, and grease had smudged his nose. If he were to see right into her eyes, he would see the fear and attraction she felt for him in equal measure. She didn’t know who or what he was in his former life, but no doubt he was imperfect like she was. She was running scared, and if he knew what was good for him, for them, he just needed to give her space.

  “I’d love to come.” He let her go.

  She blinked, stunned at her body’s irrational reaction to his touch. She could only gape as he backed up to the house. “Let me change real quick.”

  “I’ll be here,” she said in a daze.

  I’ll be here? Seriously, Brooke, what is happening to you? Are you going soft on this tourist guy?

  She groaned silently. By the time Duke came out, she was back to her no-nonsense self. No flirting. No making goo-goo eyes at him And definitely no touching.

  They piled into her truck, and she drove down
to the Stanton Creek Primitive Area trailhead where empty boat trailers and a few vehicles lined the lot in a neat row. The road had washed out in the last rains, but the bumpy trail was still passable. Halfway through, she shifted to four-wheel drive. The truck lurched around some before they reached a steep little hill and nosed down toward a rock ledge ringed by a sandy beach.

  Some campsites were visible, but they were far enough apart. Just the way Brooke liked it. No dogs to have to worry about. No obnoxious rap music from someone’s boat spoiling the silence. Here, they had the perfect combination of soft sand along with rock. No murkiness, but a great hair-washing spot if they were camping.

  As Brooke stood there, her body relaxed, drained of the stresses of the past two days. Of having a guest in their home, an attractive man throwing a wrench into her comfortable single life. A man who may or may not be married.

  “There are life jackets in the back bench,” she said. “I brought Oscar’s for you.”

  Duke’s gaze swept over the water. “How deep is it?”

  “It starts out pretty shallow, and then it can go down to 70 or 80 feet.”

  His eyes widened. “I’ll put on a life jacket.”

  He helped her take down two paddleboards—hers and Oscar’s—strapped on the roof of her truck. Brooke took up one, and he did the other. She shed her shirt and shorts, shrugged on her life jacket and waited for him. As he took off his shirt, she prided herself on keeping calm and being almost indifferent to him. Until he started walking toward her like a surfer model in his life jacket and swim shorts, a bronzed arm carrying the board. His sunburn from the other day had turned a nice tan.

  Before they put in, he paused, looking out over the water. She followed his gaze to the buttes and cliff walls.

  “You’re so lucky to live here,” he said with a reverent tone.

  Her eyes traced the red rock and sand, the faded rings from the up-down water levels over the years. “Yes, I am.”

  They launched the paddleboards, and Duke popped right up on his board.

  “I bet you’ve paddleboarded before,” she said. “It’s not something you forget.”