“I’m hot. All that running to the cottage and back.” Daffy gave Ellathe sistereye.
Change the conversation.
“All that running? It’s what, twenty yards? Please.”
“Ella, what were you saying about the Space Center?” Daffy sat in her chair and took her book from her bag. “Do we need tickets?”
“I’ll look when we go in. Let’s try that pub down the beach tonight. The Captain’s Hideaway. The sign said something about the best American food on the Space Coast.”
“I was going to suggest barbecuing.” Daffy texted her pictures to Thomas but in her mind, she only saw Prince Gus. That gorgeous chap was here. In Florida. On her beach. What were the odds? The idea sent a chill down her arms. “But we can do it another night. We have all week.”
Would she see him again? Should she try? If she got up early and started hanging out on the beach, Leslie Ann would get wise to her.No, Daff, just leave it alone.Leave him be. He’s found some peace and dignity.
Meanwhile, she’d read the first line of her book ten times. She looked up when Leslie Ann interrupted. “So, did the love of your life text you back yet? Did he like the pictures?”
Daffy peered down the beach in the direction Prince Gus, ratherPete George, had gone.
“No, the love of my life has not texted.” She ducked down behind her book. “I’m not sure he ever will.”
Chapter Two
Gus
Floridana Beach, later in the day
It’s possible for a prince to hide. Though he’d known that sooner or later the paparazzi, orsomeonewould find him out, he never imagined it would be the beautiful Daffodil Caron.
Looking up from his station behind the bar at theCaptain’s Hideaway, he wondered if he’d see her again.
She was more lovely than he remembered. Then again he’d not seen in her in quite a while. Seeing her made him long for his family and the comforts of home. Even if his home was a palace.
But running into her—or hitting her with a Frisbee—again would be unwise. Too many encounters would risk his secret. Nevertheless, he held onto the sweet, warm sentiment that had filled his chest since their eyes met in recognition.
When she said,“You’re Prince Augustus Carwyn George of Lauchtenland’s House of Blue”he felt the words rattle in his bones. For the first time in well over two years, he wanted to be that chap again.
It was time to go home. Not that Dad or Mum or John would let him get away with missing the wedding ball and the ceremony. And after his year of healing, he almost looked forward to it.
Still there remained a certain dread about hosting John’s wedding ball, as all royal House of Blue siblings did for one another, in light of his own wedding fiasco.
Buck up, lad.Don’t travel the worn roads of pain and despair.Been there. But had taken the exit off during his time in Florida. He must carry home his renewed mind and heart. His hope. The press would be bored with his trials by now. Surely, the lot of them had moved on to John’s successful marriage match. Lady Holland was an outstanding woman.
He didn’t care much for Leslie Ann Parker—how did Daffy know her so well? She was the telly presenter who raised the question: “Why do good women leave him?”
Excellent question. He’d spent the first six months of his Florida getaway pondering that very thing. First to scamper was Coral Winthrop, the beautiful, poised American heiress and owner of CCW Cosmetics. Then Lady Robbi De Smet, daughter of an ancient Lauchtenland family. Never mind their breakup had been mutual. Still, he’d failed to capture her heart.
“Hey, Pete.” Helene, his boss and owner of this quaint little pub, a thatched-hut tiki bar with a wraparound deck edging up to the Atlantic, waved her hand in front of his face. “Where were you? Land far, far away?”
“No, just, um…what can I do for you?” He’d been staring into a bin of limes waiting to be sliced.
Helene Simmons, a fifty-something-year-old woman, with flowing, sun-kissed hair and mischievous green eyes, gave him purpose the day she offered him a job.
He’d come in twice for a bite to eat. The second time she sat at his table announcing,“I like the look of you. Want to work here?”
If she knew his true identity, she’d never let on. Didn’t say a word when he handed over his diplomatic papers to satisfy payroll. Knowing her as he did now, however, the last thing she wanted was the attention caused by a royal prince pouring pints. Which was fine with Gus.
“Carmen called in sick again. You’ll have to bus tables tonight.”
“I thought you fired him.” Gus—preferably known as Pete—lined up limes for slicing.
