Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 27560 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 138(@200wpm)___ 110(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27560 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 138(@200wpm)___ 110(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)
“Time for lunch,” he says right as my stomach growls.
We start the walk back to his place, and I follow him. I’m dirty, sweaty, and completely invigorated by today’s work. I’m not sure how much land he owns on this mountain, but it seems like a lot. My fingers itch to spend a day painting the breath-taking landscape onto a canvas. “This is beautiful. I get why you love living here.”
“It’s my first real home. As a boy, I grew up in the foster system. Bounced around from place to place. I never knew how long I’d get to stay or where I was going next.”
He grew up in the foster system. It makes sense why he has no personal photos, but if he’s really who Violet claims he is, why did he end up here? Why didn’t the Republic of Portia claim him? I doubt he knows the answers to those questions any more than I do.
“So, what made you pick Courage?” I called Violet last night after I went through Rafael’s things. I reassured her that I was fine and that Rafael was being a wonderful host. I didn’t want her to worry or think I can’t do this.
“Just drove in here one day, and it felt right. Someone told me that Courage is the place where every outcast finds home.” His phone rings, and he pauses so abruptly that I bump into his sweaty, t-shirt clad back. He’s so solid, so warm against my cheek.
Quickly, I straighten as he murmurs a curse under his breath. He answers his call but doesn’t move away from me. I can hear another deep voice on the other end. “Everything checks out. Aurora is a princess, and she snuck away to the States to find her prince.”
My heart pounds. He had someone checking into me. Does that mean that everyone knows I’m gone? How did his contact get this information?
“Do you want me to keep looking into your background?”
Rafael sighs deeply, and I wonder if he’s disappointed. “You won’t find anything but yeah, go for it.”
He ends the call without another word while I hold my breath. I don’t know what to say, and we stand for long moments. The silence is broken by the love songs from happy birds and the low drone of bees buzzing nearby.
Finally, he lets out a chuckle. “You’re royalty.”
Does this mean he’s going to treat me differently now? Will he become somber and stiff around me, like everyone else except for Violet?
“Yeah.” It’s the most undignified word I’ve ever said in my life. A princess doesn’t use casual slang, but I don’t care as I kick at the dirt with the toe of the too-big boot that Rafael loaned me.
He turns to me. Sadness flickers across his features. “I’m not who you think I am.”
I don’t bother arguing with him. If his contact was able to discover that I’m the princess, then he’ll soon have confirmation that he’s the prince. Will he shirk his duty once he knows? No, I can’t let him. I have to convince him that we’re meant to be before then.
“So, what am I supposed to do with you, princess?” He glances away from me, and it almost sounds like he’s asking himself the question.
Still, I answer. “You could start by feeding me.”
He nods. “Come on then. I’ll school you in the culinary art of peanut butter and jelly.”
“And this is a delicacy in your country?” I ask as I watch Rafael move around his kitchen, placing various items on the island.
“The best,” he insists, adding a jar of peanut butter to the counter.
I tap the bright orange lid. “I’ve never been allowed to eat junk food. I’ve heard Americans are obsessed with it.”
“Well, not only are you eating junk food, today, you’ll learn how to make it.” He produces a rolling pin like I’ve seen the chefs use in our kitchens.
A wave of excitement rolls through me. I’ve always wanted to learn the basics of cooking. Now it looks like I’m going to get a chance.
“You make your own bread?” I ask in awe as he produces a loaf of bread. It’s homemade and light golden brown, like something out of a magazine spread.
The slightest pink tinge starts beneath his beard as he ducks his head. “Anyone can do this.”
“Is the peanut butter homemade too?”
“Store bought is best in these cases.” He slides me a kitchen knife. “Cut four slices.”
I hesitate. He didn’t make fun of me for not knowing how to make coffee earlier. Still, I hate looking helpless in front of Rafael.
He makes a soft sound. “They really didn’t let you do anything.”
I wait for him to laugh at me or make fun of the fact that I have no real-world skills. But he doesn’t. He moves to stand behind me, so close I can feel the heat from his body. Something electric crackles between us. If he feels it too, he ignores it.