“I can walk, thank you.” Gemma pressed her hand over her hip and hobbled toward the finish line. Bath. Hot. Long. Tonight.
“That’s it, we’re doing this the easy way.” In one hunky motion, the crown prince of Lauchtenland scooped Gemma into his arms. “I’d like to finish before midnight.”
The rubberneckers and hoverers went wild, and team Prince’s Bride faced a wall of smartphone cameras. Every moment, every move, captured.
Without once taking a labored breath, Prince John carried her across the finish line. Hooley announced their completion through his bullhorn.
“Team Prince’s Bride. Last but not least.”
No sooner had John set her down than Gunner appeared with a couple of local sheriff’s deputies, dispersing the crowd.
“I should go,” John said, backing toward Gunner. “I’m becoming a risk to myself and others.”
“Wait, Prince.” Gemma limped toward him. “Thanks. For back there.”
“We had it, didn’t we? The win.” Again he smiled… She felt the hardness she’d been nurturing since leaving L.A. and Vegas give a little.
“We’ll get them next time.” Like there would ever be a next time. The prince offered a fist bump and when she responded, her eyes welled up. “See you around.”
He disappeared about as quickly as he appeared in her life a few hours earlier, Buck and Gunner flanking him. Just before he disappeared around a set of bounce houses, Prince John glanced over his shoulder.
Gemma waved.See ya, Prince.
“Someone has a crush.” JoJo bumped Gemma’s sore hip.
“Careful, Jo.” She started across the field toward her parents’ camp where there was a plethora of chairs, food, and friends. As for a crush on the prince? Nothing doing. “Someonedoes not have a crush,” she said to Jo. “We finished the race, end of story. You’re the one who paired me with him. I’d have soon stayed behind eating barbecue.”
“I saw you watching him. Say, do you want me to talk to him tonight? See if he likes you? You could write him a note and I’ll pass it to him during dinner.”
“Jo—” Gemma whirled toward her laughing, teasing friend. “I’m not on the market and I doubt he is either. So no, I don’t want you to ask if helikesme. Girl, we don’t even live in the same country. Need I remind you he’s your friend, not mine.”
“Hecouldbe your friend. I mean, he can’t spend all of his time with Buck and me. He’d go crazy. As for love, he has to meet someone. Hehasto marry. It’s a Lauchtenland law or something.”
“Jo, just stop.” The world stage was the one stage she never wanted to see.
“You have to find someone too.”
“Who says?” Gemma wove through the crowd with JoJo at her side, a dull throb vibrating from her hip down her leg to her toes. “My romantic instincts are abysmal.”
“Goodness, what happened to you?” Mama stood as Gemma approached, eyeing one of the reclining chairs.
“My partner and I fell in the three-legged race. I hurt my hip. Do you have any ibuprofen in your Mary Poppins’ bag?”
“Betty,” Mama said, motioning toward her bag, directing her longtime friend. “Look in my bag for my pillbox.” She bent beside Gemma, dusting the grass from her knees, trying to rub the stain from her white shorts. “Is it your hip?”
“I’ll be fine.”
“You always say that but—”
“Because it’s always true.”
“I still wish you would tell me and Daddy what happened—”
“How about some barbecue, Mama, and a Diet Coke?” Gemma leaned forward and planted a kiss on her mother’s forehead.
Mama’s tight-lipped expression communicated her protest. She’d been asking Gemma for two years—ever since she returned home—why she limped. And for two years, she got bupkis.
About then Miss Betty returned with the ibuprofen. Mama hustled about filling a plate with barbecue and fries and grabbed a tall, cold, ice-dripping Diet Coke.
