“Okay,” I say as I catch her. “Alright, there she goes.”
I carefully carry her to one of the tables and get her into a - hopefully comfortable – position, elevating her legs as best I can, and I ask someone nearby for a glass of water,then start massaging her calves to help get her blood flowing back where it’s supposed to be.
“Silly girl,” I tell her, “if you wanted to be dipped, you could have just asked.”
A few painfully slow minutes later, her eyes flutter open and she lets out a frustrated groan.
“Really?”
“Really,” I tell her with a nod. “Didn’t hit your head, though.”
She groans again as she moves to slowly sit up. “That’s so annoying. I’m sorry, Colt.”
“Stop apologizing for things that are out of your control,” I order. I slide the glass of water toward her. “Drink this, and we’ll head out.”
I can’t help but chuckle while she downs that water like it’s a drink at a college party. I wipe my thumb under her ruby red lips and tell her, “Your lipstick didn’t even budge. Impressive.”
•
“Put on something comfortable,” I instruct Rowan as we walk into our hotel room. “Food will be here in a few minutes. What kind of movie?”
“Surprise me,” she smiles.
I throw on my own comfortable clothes and flip through the options on the TV, finally landing on a cheesy comedy flick that looks so incredibly stupid, it’s bound to be funny. Rowan slips out of the bathroom not long after and flops herself down onto the bed. She’s embarrassed, and trying to hide it, but she can’t hide things from me. I pay too much attention to her not to notice it.
As I roll the room service cart toward her side of the bed, I pull the lids from the plates with a flourish to reveal the wonderful meal I’ve had brought to us.
“Really?” She chortles as she looks down at our food. “Not some fancy Italian cuisine I’ve never heard of?”
“Rowan, what is the number one rule of coming home after a party?”
“Greasy burgers?” She asks, pulling one from the tray.
I nod. “Greasy burgers.”
I stuff a handful of french fries into my mouth and grab my own cheeseburger before sliding onto the bed next to her and wrapping my free arm around her shoulders, pulling her in tight. She looks up at me with a vulnerability in her eyes that squeezes at my heart in a way I didn’t know was possible.
“I’m sorry I ruined our night,” she mumbles.
“You didn’t ruin anything,” I try to assure her. “I’m having a great night with you.”
“Can I tell you something?”
“Of course,” I tell her. “You can tell me anything.”
“You remember the frogs and princes?”
“I’m familiar with the concept,” I chuckle.
“I think you might just be my prince.”
Fuck.
I tighten my arm around her, squeezing, and lean down to press a soft kiss to the top her of head. If this carriage has to turn back into a pumpkin in thirty-eight hours, I can be her prince until then.
THIRTY-ONE
Rowan
