The Cowboy and the Princess (17 page)

“No, I didn’t. The experience was watching you experience Fright House for the first time. Thank you for taking the ride with me.”

She beamed at him. “It was fun, was it not?”

“Hollywood could make a movie of it—the thrills, the chills, the kissing. Who should play us?”

She wanted to say Gregory Peck should play him, but the reference was too old and besides he didn’t look that much like Peck. She squinted at him, trying to decide which young actor he looked the most like. “Colin Farrell, minus the Irish accent. The dark hair, those soulful eyes.”

Brady cocked his head. “You look like someone familiar. I’ve thought so all along. Audrey Hepburnish.”

Annie’s breath came out in a hot
whoosh
. Was he going to finally recognize her? Her pulse quickened. No, no. He could not recognize her. Not yet. She wanted—needed more time.

He snapped his fingers. “I know. You look a bit like Carey Mulligan.”

Tension leaked from her limbs. “Oh yes. Maybe so. I never thought of it.”

“Wispy with a winning smile. Coy but sensible. Smart eyes.”

“I am not wispy.”

“You’re thin as a barbwire fence.” He raked a gaze over her body. “You need to eat more banana cream pie.”

“You are given to hyperbole. I have hips.” She slapped both palms against her derriere.

His smile turned sly. “Yes, yes, you do. Very nice hips, I might add.”

She wanted him to stop looking at her. She was afraid he would finally see Princess Annabella beneath the short, black hair. “May we go through the Fright House a second time?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

“And this time you can grab on to me if
you
get scared.”

Brady chuckled. “You, Annie Coste, are awesome. The more I hang out with you, the more I want to hang out with you.”

“I agree. About hanging out with you I mean.”

“This could be seriously habit-forming.” He leaned closer.

Annie did not pull away. “Addictive.”

“One thing leads to another.”

“The next thing you know your friends will be staging an intervention. No more Fright House for Brady and Annie.”

“Then come the withdrawal symptoms.”

“Ouch. Painful.”

“Ah, but the yearning.”

“Tragically melancholic. You, sir, are a romantic.”

“So we should stop it right now. Let’s not take a second turn through the Fright House.”

“Or we could just say to hell with it and take the gamble.”

“You said hell.” Brady looked shocked. “I’ve never heard you curse.”

“You are rubbing off on me. Those bad habits again.”

Laughing, they got back in line.

After the second ride through Fright House—this time neither one of them saw the ride, they were too busy kissing—they came out to find their friends had dispersed. Brady got out his cell phone and called Joe. They agreed to meet at the entrance in an hour.

“It’s just you and me.” He winked.

Annie’s mouth went dry. Alone with a cowboy at a carnival. Queen Evangeline would highly disapprove.

“Wanna get some junk food?” He inclined his head toward the concession stand.

“I would love some.”

“Name your poison?”

“You sound like a Wild West barkeep.”

“Louis L’Amour again?”

“John Wayne Western.”

“Turkey leg? Nachos? Fajitas?”

“How about something sweet?”

His eyes lit up. “I’ll go for that.” It was their turn at the counter. “What’ll you have?”

“Cotton candy.”

“Really?” He scratched his cheek. “You’re full of surprises.”

“What’s wrong with cotton candy?”

“You seem more like a cherry cheesecake kind of girl to me. Rich and off limits,” he said.

“You are on a fishing expedition. Trying to figure out where I am from.”

“You,” he said, “are too smart for my own good. We’ll have one cotton candy, a package of moist wipes, and a large water.”

“You expect me to get messy?”

“No, I expect me to get messy. Here. You take the water.” He paid for the purchases, and Brady unwrapped the plastic from the cotton candy as they walked away. He plucked a chunk of cotton candy from the pile of pink fluff on the stick. “Open up.”

“What?”

“Open up.”

“You are going to feed me.”

“Please don’t tell me that you’ve never done that either.”

“I have told you. I have been seriously deprived. What is the custom?”

“When teens start dating they do dopily romantic stuff like feed each other.”

“So this is an accepted courtship ritual?”

“Only when you’re into acting like a kid at a carnival. Or . . .” He lowered his voice. “Sex play with food.”

Annie shivered. “My, I am getting quite an education.”

He dangled the cotton candy in front of her. “Open up.”

Annie opened her mouth, felt the spun sugar dissolve instantly on her tongue. It tasted as delicious as she remembered.

“More?”

She opened her mouth.

Brady fed her another mouthful.

“Now,” she said, plucking the cotton candy from his hand. “My turn to feed you.”

They walked around the fairgrounds feeding each other cotton candy and talking.

“So what else have you never done?” Brady asked.

“It would be easier to ask what I have done.”

“What have you done?”

“Acquired my PhD.”

“Yeah, let’s not talk about that. It makes me feel dumb.” He tossed all that was left of the cotton candy—a cardboard tube—into a nearby trash can and opened up one of the premoistened towelettes.

“Where did you go to college?”

“Didn’t.”

“Oh?”

“And before you ask, I didn’t finish high school either. Got my GED though.”

“That counts.”

“Not really.”

“Why did you drop out of high school?”

“I wasn’t the studying kind.”

“The bad boy we were talking about earlier.”

“Not really bad,” he said. “I just didn’t fit in at home.”

Annie knew that feeling. They might be miles apart education-wise, but they had things in common.

Not that it matters. In fact, the less you have in common, the better. This is just going to be a lovely affair. A good time. That adventure you are craving.

“I’m guessing you never played a carnival midway game.”

“You would be correct.”

Brady stopped in front of a basketball toss. The barker was urging him to come over. Three balls for two dollars. Try his luck. Win a prize.

“Which game would you like to try?”

“Let us select one in which we can compete with each other.”

“Like the shooting gallery? Or the water guns and the balloons.”

“Yes.”

“This way.” He ushered her over to the water gun game. People were sitting at stools waiting, while the barker tried to round up more people to get the game going.

“Ooh, I want the red one.” Annie plunked down on the stool with a red water gun.

Brady took the stool beside her. “I’ve got to warn you, when I was a kid, I was wickedly accurate with a water gun.”

“I feel led on.”

“I’ll go easy on you.”

“I want to win one of those,” Annie said, pointing at a large plastic dog bone chew toy. “For Lady Astor.”

“That thing is bigger than your Yorkie.”

“So? She’s a determined little dog.”

“I’ve noticed.”

“Ready?” called out the barker. “On your mark . . .”

Annie readied her gun, closed one eye, sighted the scope. Her target was a red balloon.

“Get set.”

She waved a hand at Brady. “You better get into position.”

He grinned. Curled his finger around the trigger.

A bell rang and immediately everyone on the stools around them started pumping the squirt gun as hard and fast as they could. Annie shot a quick glance over at Brady; they were neck and neck. “I am going to beat you,” she crowed. “I am going to claim that bone.”

“Ha! No first timer is going to beat me.”

In a syncopated rhythm, they pumped the triggers of their squirt guns, sending cool streams of water jetting through the air into the holes of the round balloons. They were laughing and squirting and Annie couldn’t remember when she had ever had this much fun.

Bam!

A balloon popped but it was neither Annie’s nor Brady’s.

A kid jumped up, did a little victory dance. “I won it, I won it, uh-huh, uh-huh.”

“He is a gloaty winner,” Annie said, getting up from the stool. “Apparently I am a failure at this.”

“Don’t blame yourself,” Brady teased. “The kid is younger and quicker. Better reflexes. Face it, we’re over the hill.”

“Speak for yourself.” Annie pushed a fallen strand of hair from her eyes, spied a panda bear the size of Bolivia dangling from a hook over at the ring toss game. “Oh look, look.” She tugged on Brady’s sleeve. “Win that for me.”

“You obviously have more confidence in my ring tossing skills than I do.”

“Cowboys play horseshoes, do they not?”

“Maybe in your Louis L’Amour Westerns. Not in real life.”

“Come on.” She reached up to squeeze his biceps. “You’ve got muscles. You’re a natural.”

“Tossing a hoop around the neck of a bottle has nothing to do with muscular strength.”

“All right. I admit it. I was just trying to butter you up so you would win that panda bear for me.”

“What’s the attachment to the panda?”

“When I was a girl, the ambass—” Annie broke off. She had just been about to tell him a story of the Chinese ambassador visiting Farrington Palace and bringing with him the present of a stuffed panda bear for her.

“The what?”

“Nothing, never mind.”

“You were about to tell me something. I want to hear it.”

“Win me the panda bear and I’ll consider telling you.”

“Okay,” he said. “I’ll give it a shot.”

He spent ten dollars on rings. The barker showed him where he had to land the rings in order to win the panda bear. They were in the dead center of a lot of bottles and they had the widest necks.

“That does not seem fair,” Annie said. “It is rigged against winning the big prize.”

“Of course it is. That’s how a carnival midway works.”

“Like casino gambling.”

“On a very inexpensive scale. You’ve been to a casino?”

“With my father.”

“Vegas?”

“No.”

“Atlantic City?”

“Win me the bear and I will tell you.”

“Get ready to part with your secrets, Annie Coste.” Brady aimed, let go of the first ring. It bounced off one of the bottles that would have garnered him the panda if it had landed. Annie held her breath. What if he won? Was she really prepared to tell him who she was?

She imagined the expression on his face when he found out. She knew that everything between them would change immediately. No more rodeos. No more carnivals. No more banana cream pie at a truck stop or feeding each other cotton candy. No chance of having sex with him.

He took a second throw.

She crossed her fingers, prayed that he missed.

The ring fell over the neck of a bottle but it was not a prize-winning bottle.

The next ring went wide and the next.

Yes. He only had one ring left. The odds of him winning were very slight indeed. Annie let out her breath.

“This is it, Buttercup. I’m gonna win that panda and you’re gonna have to start talking.”

He poised, eyeing the bottle. Annie’s muscles tensed. He flicked his wrist, released.

The ring flew into the air, flipped once, and landed around the neck of one of the bottles. It had a yellow tag on it.

“We have a winner!” the barker enthused.

“Yes!” Brady pumped his fist. “Hand over the panda.”

Perspiration broke out on Annie’s forehead. She wasn’t ready to tell Brady who she was and ruin everything. She had been having so much fun. Why had she made this stupid bet? Maybe she could lie. Except she was a terrible liar. He would see right through her.

“You owe me some secrets,” Brady murmured, his mouth near her ear.

A shiver—part sexual anticipation, part fear—ran through her.

“You didn’t win the panda, sir,” the barker said.

“What do you mean? The ring landed over the bottle fair and square.”

“Your bottle had a yellow tag. Not a cream tag. A cream-colored tag is for the panda.”

Brady blew out his breath. “Well, what
did
I win?”

“This, sir.” The barker reached under the counter and pulled out a cheap plastic rhinestone-encrusted tiara.

Brady started laughing, leaned over, and settled the tiara on her head. “It’s no panda bear, Buttercup, but hell if this doesn’t make you a princess in my book.”

He slung his arm around her and guided her toward the front gate.

Annie glanced up. Brady looked down. His eyes locked on to hers, dark and intense. His fingers tickled the back of her neck, teasing, stroking. She burrowed against his side, breathed in his scent, and grinned to herself. She was utterly aware of this masculine man. How his full lips tipped up at the corners, how the faint lines at his eyes crinkled, how his warm laugh heated her up inside. For one glorious moment she was completely happy.

And then she spied the men in sunglasses and fedoras.

Chapter Ten

You might be a princess if . . . you’ve never had to work for a living.

A
nnie tensed beside him, faltered in her step.

“Buttercup?” Brady asked.

She did not answer. Brady followed her gaze.

The Blues Brothers.

They’d tracked her here. He didn’t know how or why or who. He only knew Annie was trembling.

Instinctively, he tucked her closer to his side. Brady did not understand his impulse. She could have been on the lam from the law. In their suits and Ray-Bans, these guys could surely be FBI. But right or wrong didn’t even factor into it. She was threatened and he was going to take up for her.

End of story.

“Easy, Annie,” he murmured. “I’ve got your back. They’ll have to go through me to get to you.”

“It is not . . . I am not . . .” She wrapped an arm around his waist and said no more.

The Blues Brothers were combing the edges of the crowd. Smoothly, Brady put a hand to Annie’s back and guided her toward a side exit away from the two men. He could feel the snaps of her bra through the thin cotton of her shirt, felt her lungs expand and contract in quick, shallow breaths. He used his body to camouflage her from view in case the men in the fedoras happened to glance his way.

“We gave ’em the slip,” he said, stopping a moment to watch the Blues Brothers move in the opposite direction until they were swallowed up in the crowd.

Annie shifted nervously. “Let us depart before they return.”

“We have to find Joe and Mariah.”

She hitched in a deep breath. Brady peered at her in the light from the Ferris wheel circling on the other side of the chain-link fence. Damn, but she was so beautiful. Just looking at her made it hard for him to think. Her long eyelashes fluttered like a delicate butterfly flitting over a vibrant trumpet vine. He pictured himself holding her in the crook of his arm, depositing kisses on her eyelids, feeling those lashes flicker against his lips. She stirred every lustful impulse in his body and drove him crazy with desire.

“C’mon,” he said, escorting her over the asphalt, away from the festivities and toward the other end of the coliseum where they’d parked.

His cell phone rang. He answered it one-handedly, knowing it was Joe. “We’re already in the parking lot.”

“We’ll be right there,” Joe said, then hung up.

Brady pocketed his cell.

“I feel so lawless.” Annie planted a palm on her chest and Brady couldn’t help checking the placement. Right over one magnificent breast.

“Why’s that? Does the law want you? Are those guys G-men?”

“G-men?”

“FBI.”

“No, oh no.”

Damn him, he wanted so much to believe her. “So why the lawlessness?”

“Because being with you makes me feel . . .” Her cheeks pinked. “As if I’m breaking all the rules.”

“What rules?” He laughed, feeling uncertain.

Annie shrugged, sliced a stunningly sexy look his way. “There is just something about you, Brady Talmadge, that makes my blood sing.”

That should have scared him. Any other time, with anyone else, it would have him backpedaling. But instead, he thought,
I ache to make you wail opera all night long.
In my bed.

Her eyes widened and for a second he thought he said it out loud, but when she slapped her hand over her mouth, he realized she’d simply shocked herself. Their gazes locked and he remembered every single thing about her supple, smooth body. His fingers tingled, itched to undress her. His mouth hungered to taste her. His erection surged against the zipper of his jeans. “I’ve got a cure for that.”

She caught her bottom lip up between her teeth. “Is it terribly naughty? Your cure?”

Oh yeah.

“Hey, I thought we were supposed to meet up at the gate,” Joe said, ambling up with his arm thrown over his wife’s shoulder.

“Sorry for the miscommunication.” Brady shrugged.

“Thank you,” Annie whispered, and tightened her grip around his waist. Brady had to admit that the half hug felt pretty darn good.

As Joe unlocked the doors of his pickup truck, Brady leaned over to whisper. “One of these days you’re going to have to tell me what’s going on.”

“One of these days,” she promised with a nod.

Jolted, Brady—the guy who preferred to keep his relationships light, easy, and unattached—realized he’d just made future plans with a mysterious woman he barely knew, but couldn’t seem to keep his hands off of.

A
nnie lay in bed in the out-of-the-way cabin listening to the wind whip through the willow trees outside her bedroom window. Lady Astor snuggled beside her. If it weren’t for the little dog, she would feel so alone out here, especially after the wonderful evening she had just spent with Brady and his friends. But she had been having so much fun that she had allowed herself to be lured in by a false sense of security. Chandler and Strawn were still after her.

She understood now why Brady had stopped making love to her when he discovered she was a virgin. He was right. It would have meant something. He already meant something to her.

Curling on her side around Lady Astor, Annie whispered, “It’s okay. We’ve got each other. Through thick and thin. It’s me and you.”

Lady Astor roused, blinked, licked Annie’s cheek.

“It’s just a sweet dream. I know. Soon enough it will be over. But there’s no need for regret. We will remember this time for the rest of our lives.”

The Yorkie stretched, shook her head, put a paw on Annie’s shoulder.

“Do you need to go outside?”

Lady Astor gave a short bark.

“All right.” Annie threw back the covers and Lady Astor dived off the bed. She slipped her feet into slippers and, yawning, shambled for the door. The digital clock on the bedside stand glowed yellow. Two
A.M.
Tomorrow was her first day on her new job. She was not going to be at her best if she didn’t get some sleep soon.

She opened the door and stepped out on the veranda, hugging herself against the tepid breeze. Lady Astor ran down the steps, barking fiercely, and disappeared into the dark. Goose bumps raised on Annie’s arms. She’d read stories of Texas. Knew there were rattlesnakes and coyotes and bobcats and other dangers lurking in the brush.

“Lady Astor,” she called sharply, her heart racing. “Come back here now.”

As usual, the headstrong dog did not obey, she ran like Toto going after a flying monkey. Suddenly, her barking ceased.

Annie’s stomach pitched and she scurried after the Yorkie heedless of her own safety. “Lady Astor!” she cried, imagining horrible things. What if an owl had swooped down and snatched the little dog in its talons? “Lady Astor!”

The clouds shifted and the moon came out. A man stepped from the shadows.

Annie halted.

It felt as if those glow-in-the-dark spiders from the Fright House were scrambling over her skin. Was it one of her bodyguards? Had they tracked her from the carnival?

Then she saw that the man had Lady Astor in his arms and the dog was joyfully licking his face with puppy kisses. All her limbs went weak. “Brady,” she whispered.

“Did I scare you? I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Wh-what are you doing here?”

He set Lady Astor on the ground and she ran circles around him as he ambled closer to Annie. “I couldn’t sleep. Thought I’d take a walk.”

“I couldn’t sleep either.”

He kept coming, encroaching on her personal space until the tips of his boots almost touched her house slippers.

“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking,” he said.

She shifted, feeling invaded, but she did not back up. She held her ground. Raised her chin. Summoned every ounce of royal blood she possessed. “Yes?”

“The other night, in my trailer, I made a mistake.”

“Oh?” The wind snapped her nightgown, blowing the flimsy material against her breasts, but Brady’s eyes did not leave her face. She felt dizzy, giddy.

“If you’re still interested in losing your virginity, I’d be honored to . . . Ah crap, this isn’t coming out right.” He jammed fingers through his hair.

“No, no, you were absolutely right. I understand now what you meant, why you refused me,” she said. “It was the right decision.”

At the same moment, he said, “What I mean to say is, I want it to be me. I want to be the guy who, you know . . . ushers you to womanhood.”

She put two fingers to her mouth to suppress a giggle. “Ushers me to womanhood?”

“See, there’s no good way to say this that doesn’t sound cheesy or creepy. It’s why I’ve been pacing up and down in the dark trying to get up enough courage to knock on your door.”

“But what about my secrets? You told me you don’t like secretive people.”

“I don’t. Normally. But you . . . well, I just want to be with you. Make love to you. I don’t care why you’ve held on to your virginity for so long. I don’t care if you’re a nun running away from the nunnery. I don’t care if you’ve just escaped from Siberia. I don’t care if you got a fatal diagnosis and you’ve decided to live life to the fullest before you die . . .” He cringed. Brought both hands to the side of his head. “No, no, I don’t mean that. I do care. I care very much. I’m mangling this. Let me just leave now and forget this conversation ever happened.”

He turned to leave, but she put a restraining hand to his arm. “Wait.”

Brady turned back. Hope glimmered in his eyes. “Yes?”

“I want you too.”

He inhaled audibly. “Okay, wow, that’s great.”

“But,” she said, “you have to realize that this can’t mean anything long-term.”

“Because of your secret?”

“Yes. I can only stay in America for six weeks. Are you still interested?”

He looked as if he simultaneously wanted to dance a jig and throw up. “I’m not ready for anything long-term either. But I don’t want to sound like a jerk. I don’t want to be a jerk. I just can’t get you out of my mind.”

“I cannot stop thinking about you either.”

He took her hand, laced his fingers through hers. “I don’t want to do anything to hurt you.”

“I feel the same way,” she said. “About hurting you, I mean.”

“So.”

“So.”

“Can we do this? Can we make love and not hurt each other?” she whispered.

He nodded. “I think so. If we go into this with our eyes open.”

“I am willing to give it a try if you are.”

“If we’re going to do this, we’re going to do it right,” Brady said. “We need to make your first time special. Even if this relationship is temporary, I want you to know you’re still special to me.”

Annie felt her cheeks heat. “You are special to me too.”

“We need to date. Take this slow. Play it out. Savor this experience,” he said.

“Brady.” She breathed. “You have no idea how much this means to me.”

He traced her jaw with his left thumb, his right hand still holding hers. The way he stroked her felt so incredibly intimate. He leaned in.

The night sighed.

Annie sighed.

His mouth brushed hers, light as a whisper. His hand cupped the back of her head, her lips parted.

She was flying, floating free.

One sweet kiss, but no more. Brady pulled back. He was tormenting her. “That’s enough for now,” he murmured on a whisper so heavy it cracked the silent night. “If we keep kissing I won’t be able to control myself.”

Then with that he turned and stalked away into the darkness, leaving Annie feeling as if she had just found a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.

F
or the next two days, Prissy and Lissette showed Annie the ropes at The Bride Wore Cowboy Boots. She was busy enough, learning her new position as receptionist/gofer, but she couldn’t stop wondering when Brady would call or show up. So far, all she’d seen of him was when she passed him in the corral on her walk from the cabin to catch a ride into town with Mariah.

He grinned and teased and sent an appreciative gaze over her body, but he never said one word about a date. It was driving her to distraction. To keep from thinking about him, she threw herself into her work.

On Wednesday, the sister of the bride who was getting married that Saturday showed up with her young four-year-old daughter in tow. “We came to get her ears pierced,” the woman announced.

“Come on into the back,” Prissy said, “and I’ll get you all fixed up.”

They disappeared into the back room and emerged a few minutes later, the little girl sporting a pair of flower-shaped studs. “I’m gonna be the flower girl,” she announced to Annie.

“What a pretty flower girl you will make.”

“I have a white basket and it’s gonna be filled with rose petals. I hafta drop ’em as I walk down the aisle.”

“I know you are going to do an excellent job.” Annie smiled.

The little girl took her mother’s hand and skipped happily as they left the shop.

“We offer ear piercing service?” Annie asked.

“I do,” Prissy said. “You want me to pierce your ears?”

“I would love that.”

“Let me get my box and you can pick out a pair.” Prissy disappeared into the back of the store and returned with a small briefcase. “You have to start with studs, until your ears heal.”

She opened up the case and set it on the desk for Annie to select a pair. There were diamond studs, plain gold studs, longhorn cow studs, opal studs, and two silver cobweb circles with a silver feather caught in each web.

“What is this?” Annie asked, pointing at the silver circle studs.

“It’s a dream catcher.”

“Oh, so that’s what a dream catcher looks like.” Annie had read about dream catchers. “A dream catcher is perfect.” When she was in Dubinstein she could put on those earrings and remember that for one brief moment in time she had captured her dreams. “These are the ones I want.”

“Great. Let me just get the gun.”

Prissy disappeared.

“Prissy’s got a steamroller personality,” Mariah said. “Don’t let her talk you into getting your ears pierced if you don’t want to get them pierced.”

“I want to get them pierced. I have always wanted to get them pierced.”

“How come you haven’t done it before now?”

“My mother said—” Annie broke off, Queen Evangeline’s voice in her head.
Common people poke holes in their ears. Royalty doesn’t disfigure their bodies, Annabella.
“My mother had a phobia of germs. She was scared I would get an infection.”