The Broken Prince (Royal Billionaires of Mondragón Book 3)

by Jewel Allen

  His gaze drifted to the woman beside him. She looked happy and serene, watching the night sky. Beautiful. But shut off.

  Shame washed over him for teasing her, playing with her affection with that near-kiss. Now she held him at arm’s length, and he couldn’t get close to her if he tried.

  What did he have to offer her anyway? He was a mystery man without a job nor prospects unless they discovered his identity soon. In her eyes, he was just a charity case. Her brother’s charity case.

  He looked into the telescope again, frustration mounting in him. She was like one of those stars, so close and yet so far away.

  “Did you see that?” she squealed.

  “What?” He pulled back from the telescope and followed her gaze.

  “A shooting star.” Her voice was in a hush.

  “No.” He scoured the sky and repeated, “No.”

  But just then, a star shot across the sky, its tail burning for two seconds before disappearing into the darkness. “I saw that one.”

  “Make a wish,” she said.

  He thought for a minute and closed his eyes. He wished…to get closer to Brooke.

  “What did you wish for?” She was watching him, amused.

  “If I tell you, it won’t come true.”

  “Fine,” she scoffed.

  She didn’t push, and he didn’t volunteer his secret. But his gaze lingered on her cheek.

  “Good night,” she said, giving him a sweet smile.

  “Good night, Brooke.”

  She went in while he stayed awhile outside, soaking in the evening sounds of this small town. Redding was growing on him, he decided.

  Chapter Twelve

  The next day, Brooke woke up, impatient to get going on their boat camping. She was jittery too, with Duke tagging along. Glancing at her reflection, she wondered if she should put on makeup. Nah. Her mascara would just smear. And who was she trying to impress anyway?

  As she went into the kitchen, she nearly collided with Duke.

  “Sorry,” he said, putting a hand out to steady her. Her skin tingled at his touch, and he let her go right away, as though he’d felt the sparks too.

  Ugh. In her dreams. The guy was a tease. She knew better than to fall for his charms. She was still smarting over her bruised pride from when he dangled a kiss, only to pull away.

  “You’re up early,” he said, his dark eyes dancing.

  “I was about to say the same for you.”

  “I’m excited to boat camp.”

  “Me too,” she admitted. “I’m hoping to get a head start,” she raised her voice, “if Oscar would only get his act together.”

  “Maybe we should leave him behind,” Duke suggested.

  “Mmm. Tempting.” She shook her head. “Let’s not and say we did.”

  Oscar came out of the bedroom. ”You guys sound like a couple of lovebirds.” He made a kissing noise.

  Brooke gave her brother the stink eye. “We were just talking,” she said in a hurry. Why did she feel a blush coming on, like she and Duke were meeting up secretly or something?

  Oscar stared at her and then Duke. “Right.” He winked.

  Brooke shook her head. Her brother was hopeless. Did he really think it was a good idea to matchmake her with a guy who didn’t know who he was? “Well, now that you’re finally up, can we leave soon? The report says fish are biting early at Moki.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Oscar said. “Just let me put on some deodorant.”

  “Please do.”

  With Oscar de-stinkified, they rigged their Hydroswift speedboat to her truck and trundled down the road to the dock. Duke was quiet, taking in everything. She still marveled that he seemed like a child, absorbing details, looking with fresh, new eyes at a place she’d somewhat taken for granted. Her chest warmed with pleasure to show off this special place to someone who seemed to fall under its spell. It reminded her of why she loved Lake Powell so much.

  They waited their turn to unload at the dock. When the queue cleared, she did a U-turn, backed the boat in, and Oscar jumped out to man it.

  “Don’t take too long to park,” Oscar teased Brooke.

  “Don’t make yourself dizzy in circles.” She knew that as soon as Oscar was out in open water, he was going to try one of his crazy spins. She wondered if Duke would ride with Oscar, but it seemed he was bent on sticking with her. He stayed put in the back passenger seat.

  She shrugged at his choice to stay with her. There was nothing special about parking the truck. Boating seemed so much more exciting. Once situated in the lot, she grabbed her backpack, locked up, and led Duke to the dock. Oscar already had the boat tied up.

  “Ready for some crazy driving?” Oscar said.

  “Sure,” Duke said.

  “Oh-ho. Speed doesn’t bother you, huh, buddy?”

  “Don’t you dare, Oscar,” Brooke said. “Not while I’m in it.”

  “Killjoy.” Oscar rolled his eyes and looked at Duke. He gestured at Brooke. “She doesn’t like it when I spin in circles. Last time I did it with a friend, I sent him flying out the boat.” He lowered his voice. “The dude deserved it.”

  Duke laughed.

  “Believe me, Duke,” Brooke said, “you’ll get your turn. When you least expect it. But first, let’s fish.”

  She untied the ropes and stepped as gracefully as she could into the boat. Oscar pulled out of the dock.

  Duke watched her stow away the ropes. “What’ll we be catching?”

  “Striped bass, most likely.” Oscar scanned the water. “Hopefully, we’ll catch a boil.”

  “Boil?” Duke’s brow furrowed.

  Brooke sent a curious glance his way. Duke must not be from the West to not know that term.

  “It’s when striped bass round up these itty bitty shad into schools close to the surface. And boom!” Oscar clapped. “Dinner time. Looks like a boil when they duke it out. You cast your lure in the middle of them. It’s like fishing in a barrel.”

  Brooke was already taking out the poles from the sides of the boat and propping them outside of the boat’s sunshade.

  Not more than five minutes into their little drive toward Moki, Oscar slowed the boat down and coasted to a stop, killing the engine.

  “What?” Duke said, looking around.

  Brooke pointed at the splashing on the water to her left. “Boil!”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Duke stared at the pole Brooke practically jammed into his hands. “What do I do with this?” he murmured.

  “Fish with it, silly,” Brooke said.

  “I…I don’t know how.”

  “You can’t remember how to fish?” Oscar said from the back of the boat where he’d positioned himself with a pole. “Man, you’re dinged in the head much worse than I thought!”

  “Oscar.” Brooke shushed her brother before directing a side-glance at Duke. “Maybe he’s never fished in his life.”

  “I doubt you’re from Alaska, then,” Oscar said, “because your family would never live that down.”

  “So teach him already,” Brooke said.

  “Can’t.” Oscar heaved the pole back, tightening the line. “I’ve got a fish on the hook.” Moments later, he said, “I lied. He got away. But Brooke can still teach you.”

  Brooke rolled her eyes and turned to Duke. “Do you have the slightest clue what to do?”

  Duke studied the fishing pole. “Honestly, no.”

  She gestured for him to follow her to the bow of the boat. They ducked under the sunshade and emerged out in the open. She stood on the cushioned seats that curved around the bow, and he got on the seat beside her.

  “You open this throttle,” she said, flipping a thin metal half-arc, “and put your finger on the line so it won’t let out. Then you swing your arm back, watching that you don’t snag anyone with your hook. It’s sharp. I’m not kidding. You don’t want it in your finger or my eye or my hair.”

  He reached up and pulled at her ponytail resting over her bare shoulder
.

  Her gaze turned over-bright and lowered. The sweet moment passed slowly. A gurgle of pleasure bubbled up inside him.

  She cleared her throat. “And then you swing the line out, like so.”

  The lure and line sailed out gracefully with a satisfying whirring sound, landing right in the middle of the boil.

  “And then you reel it back.” She froze, and then she was reeling steadily. “Got one.”

  “Already?” Duke watched the taut line, astounded.

  “That’s what a boil is all about,” Oscar said. “Got one too.”

  Brooke kept cranking the reel. “Go get the net, Oscar.”

  “I’m a bit busy.”

  “Well, I am too.”

  “Where is it?” Duke said.

  Brooke gestured with a flick of her head. “Under that ski locker between Oscar and the passenger seat.”

  “Ski locker?”

  Brooke’s voice quickened with urgency. “The trapdoor-looking thing on the floor.”

  Duke hurried over to the door on the gray carpeted floor and pulled on a little metal circle. Opening it released a greasy, damp smell. An inch of water filled the space, which was crammed with skis and nets. He reached in and grabbed the net with a black handle and green netting, and then he checked on the brother and sister. Brooke’s fish was already out of the water. It was a large beauty, shimmering silver scales with black undertones.

  Brooke lowered the line and fish into the water and let it swim a bit. “Down here, Duke, let the net catch him in the water and then pull out carefully, okay?”

  Duke nodded, trying to concentrate on his task. The fish was wily and tried to swim around the net, but eventually, Duke caught it. He raised the net and fish out of the water, and the fish flipped this way and that, thrashing around.

  Brooke’s concentration focused on the bass. “Over the boat, Duke.”

  As he did so, she lifted the line and unhooked the lure out of the fish’s mouth with a pair of needle-nose pliers. Back in the net, the fish went.

  “Let me grab an ice bag.” Brooke brushed past Duke to get to a bench along the side. She lifted the cover, revealing picnic supplies and empty ice bags. She took a bag out and placed the fish inside, whose tail swished a few times.

  Brooke grinned at Duke. “Thanks for your help!”

  His gaze skimmed over her parted lips and shining eyes. “You are so welcome.”

  “My turn,” Oscar said.

  Duke went over and helped him too. The fish squirmed in the ice bag like Brooke’s.

  “Another boil,” Brooke called out.

  Feeling a little bounced around but enjoying the excitement, Duke joined her at the bow. She handed him the pole. “I’ll rig another pole up. You cast in this one.”

  “All right.” He nodded and swallowed nervously. He took the steps she’d coached him—flip the throttle, put a finger on the line, swing back, and then let the line and lure sail out. It landed short of the boil. The movement felt familiar.

  “I’ve done this before,” he said to himself.

  At his elbow, Brooke asked, “You mean here?”

  “I mean, I’ve fished before.” Yes, the feeling only got stronger. It was a comforting sensation, like his history was forming again, but it also left him wanting.

  “It feels familiar,” he acknowledged.

  “Huh, that’s good, right?” She studied him for a moment and then returned her attention to the fishing. “You probably know this already, but just reel in and do it again.”

  She soon became busy rigging up another pole, her concentrated expression so cute he stared at her for a good minute before taking up his post again. He admired her, this woman who could rig a pole, hook a fish, and land it.

  With Duke’s next attempt, his lure landed right where he wanted it, in the splashing. He started to reel back, and something grabbed his lure and nearly yanked him out of the boat. Brooke grabbed the back of his shorts and kept him in.

  “I think you have one,” she said near his ear. She held him close, her arms encircling his torso. He felt double the excitement: from the thought of a big fish and the feel of her embrace. Too soon, she released him.

  “Brace your knee against the boat rail,” she said. “We don’t want you falling overboard.”

  “That’s not what you told me yesterday,” Oscar teased.

  Duke laughed. Then everything else receded to the fish. He could feel the creature tugging at his line, insistent and steady. His tongue turned thick and dry. He reeled the fish in as it gave a good fight. Duke had to catch his breath a couple of times, resting and then reeling some more until he could see the fish just under the surface.

  “That’s huge,” Brooke said, bending to see better.

  Duke spun the reel a bit more until the fish was splashing on the surface. The striped bass’s scales glinted in the morning sun.

  “Keep him low to the water,” she said. “There you go.”

  She leaned close to him, and he could smell her sweet perfume and see the curve of her neck, making his pulse race in a different way before she reminded him of his task. “Just keep him there. I’ll net him.”

  As Duke bagged the fish, it was obvious it was much larger than the others. Brooke put an arm around him and squeezed him into a half-hug. He leaned into her, taking pleasure in her touch.

  Her smile brightened her beautiful face before dimming, as though she was remembering she shouldn’t get too close to him. She moved away in a hurry, leaving his heart in a confused jumble. He had hoped that their time together fishing could break down the walls between them. But maybe that was too much to expect.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Brooke silently watched the passing landscape as Oscar buzzed the boat into Knowles Canyon where they would boat camp.

  After catching a half-dozen more fish earlier, they finally called it good. They only had ice for an overnighter, so that was a smart move. Besides, Brooke didn’t like feeling vulnerable like she did.

  Liking Duke. Having fun with him.

  He seemed to genuinely enjoy fishing. Boy, what a fun series of boils they had out there. She was glad he had the chance to experience that. One of the highlights of Lake Powell, for sure.

  So much fun that she’d forgotten her vow to keep her distance from Duke.

  She shook her head mentally. The negatives of getting involved with this tourist outweighed the unknowns. Who knew where Duke was from and what his life was like? She couldn’t possibly expect it to mesh with hers. What did she have to contribute to a relationship? She’d attended the local university extension and got a bachelor’s degree in business, and what good did that do her? She still worked for her brother in the shop their father had started.

  Out of choice, she reminded herself.

  She listened to the good-natured ribbing of the two men in the boat. One, the brother she loved like she did their small town of Redding—simple and down-to-earth—and the other, a stranger who was more like the residents of Everly, Arizona, on the other side of the lake. Everly attracted wealthy vacationers. People from there who were her age thumbed their noses at Redding.

  Her brother and Duke sounded nothing alike. Duke’s voice was smooth and cultured; Oscar was redneck through and through.

  Was that what Brooke was, a redneck?

  She pondered this question as she knelt on the bow seat and bent over the railing, watching the water for rocks and branches. She never did belong here while growing up. She was always hankering to move away until her dad died and she buried that unruly desire.

  Emotionally and mentally, she’d been exhausted, until finally, keeping the status quo was the path of least resistance. Occasionally, wanting to move away reared its rebellious head, like when she heard the chatter of tourists in French or some European language. She’d wish then that she could also leave and experience life away from Redding.

  But there was always Oscar.

  The cushion lowered next to Brooke as Duke positioned
himself next to her. “What are you doing?” he asked.

  There was something conspiratorial about him bent over the bow like her, whispering into her ear as they approached the shore.

  “Looking for rocks and branches,” she said, trying to keep her voice even and calm, even as her heart beat fast at his nearness. “Just to make sure the boat doesn’t hit something.”

  “All clear?” Oscar asked.

  “Sure,” she said.

  Oscar nosed the boat into the shallows, killing the engine and letting the boat slide gently onto the sand.

  Brooke stood and hopped off the bow to tie the boat onto a huge rock. When she turned back to the crew, she noticed Duke watching her every move, making her feel self-conscious again.

  “Can you please take the ski rope from under one of the bow seats and tie it off to the side?” she asked him, anxious to keep him busy and focused on something else.

  “Sure.” He jumped to do as she asked.

  Tying up would keep the boat stable in case of a huge boat wake. It was quiet here, however, without much boat traffic to speak of. That was why she liked Knowles Canyon.

  “Is this your secret hideaway?” Duke asked when his task was complete. He was studying the sheer cliff wall, the ledges and crannies that lent themselves well to natural ledges for sleeping or prepping food. Brooke had seen this place so many times that she hadn’t looked at it, really looked at it, in a long time.

  “There are so many of them,” she said, “but this is one of my favorites.”

  She didn’t have to ask Duke to help take camping gear out of the boat. He just started shuttling them from the bow to the beach, with Brooke handing him the lantern, foam mats, and camp stove. That was about it. Simple as boat camping went. It was time for a bit of R&R before having to think about the next meal.

  Oscar got out of the boat with fishing poles rigged up for shore. “Anyone want to fish?”

  “No, thanks,” Brooke said. “I’ve gotten my fill. I’m going to swim.”

  Oscar glanced over at Duke.

  Duke shook his head. “I’ll swim too, thanks.”