Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 138981 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 695(@200wpm)___ 556(@250wpm)___ 463(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138981 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 695(@200wpm)___ 556(@250wpm)___ 463(@300wpm)
They keep trying to change me.
They make me a servant girl who just does backbreaking chores instead of the little princess I was born to be.
But one day, a prince with flashing green eyes and dark hair from another kingdom arrives. He’s a prince, but he’s also the sheriff.
I know, I know.
Don’t judge me. You work with what you’ve got when you’re not a bestselling author.
Prince Gravely recognizes me as the missing princess I’ve been searching for my whole life. He falls in love with me instantly and enlists the good fairies who work with my mom to spirit me away.
They restore my family and my crown before he proposes.
I become queen while my mother resigns to enjoy her retirement.
We all live happily ever after as beloved rulers over a small, but happy kingdom of kind, gentle people.
The end.
Yes, it’s a little far-fetched.
But I think they’re too spellbound to notice. Though Nell gives me a little smirk that says maybe, just maybe her clever little mind has put two and two together.
Hush, girl.
I might be a bit spellbound myself.
When I was a little girl, I never got many fairy tales.
I had to grow up fast, grow up hard, and learn quickly to keep my dreams and fragile feelings to myself, hidden behind sarcasm and defensive sharpness.
So it’s nice to daydream for a minute or two along with the little ones.
It’s nice to be young again with kids who are too innocent to judge you, or dismiss fairy tales as ridiculous, or do anything besides smile and sigh with satisfaction when the happy ending comes.
Before I know it, the kids are waking up, and I’ve got to wrap up for the day.
Later, when their parents come to pick them up, there are a lot of smiling new faces.
I stick around on the front walk so I can shake hands with people whose faces are becoming more familiar.
Of course, little Nell manages to embarrass me when her uncle shows up.
Grant Faircross, the police captain.
How could I forget him after the last crisis?
He gives me a somber look as he offers his hand to shake while Nell crowds behind his legs and hugs them, clinging like a happy little burr and looking up at him with adoring eyes.
“Miss Clarendon,” he says gruffly.
If an ancient oak tree could talk, it would sound like this guy, and he’s built like a tank—just a wall of bull muscle, nearly as tall as Lucas but almost twice as wide.
His eyes are grave, but kind, set above a thick brown beard shot with silver.
“Sorry I didn’t get a chance to introduce myself properly before. Call me Grant.”
I shake his hand quickly with a smile. “It’s nice to officially meet you—and don’t worry, Captain. I just appreciate you and Officer Fontenot coming out so late to help Lucas.”
“It’s what we do, ma’am.”
“Hey!” Nell pipes up pointedly, her smile just a little too wide and innocent. “Did you know Uncle Grant’s never had a girlfriend?”
Holy shit!
I sputter, fire igniting from my neck to my scalp.
Grant’s expression doesn’t change in the slightest, though his entire face goes red. What little I can see of it above the beard, anyway.
He dips his head to me with almost formal politeness. “Have a good day, ma’am.”
Then he turns around and firmly but gently marches Nell away, his shoulders stiff with embarrassment while I fight not to laugh.
He obviously dotes on that munchkin, and they’re sweet together.
My God, though.
I hope she doesn’t try playing cupid.
There’s only one hot cop in Redhaven I’m interested in.
Silly little matchmakers aside, all in all, it’s been a great first day.
I can’t wait to finish grading pop quizzes, take down some notes for tomorrow, and head home to bask in the afterglow of a job well done.
My afterglow vanishes when I get back to my house and find a pickup truck I don’t recognize parked on the curb.
It’s the most beat-up thing I’ve ever seen in my life, and I drive an actual shitbox. So caked with dirt I can’t even tell if it’s supposed to be blue or grey.
What paint I can see is scratched and rusted, and there’s a huge dent in the passenger side door.
Tall wooden slats form a makeshift fence line around the truck bed. Repurposed stock pallets, I think, creating a rickety enclosure the way people who haul trash or livestock do.
Probably livestock, considering the hay scattered along the metal bottom, along with a few crates of tools and—
Bottles?
Yep.
Lots and lots of empty bottles, mostly crusted with mud.
I park a few feet behind the monstrosity. Through the back window I can just make out a shadow behind the wheel.
My heart thumps nervously.
My hands go clammy on the steering wheel.
I don’t like this when I’ve had way too many weird shadows haunting me lately.
Drawing in a deep breath for courage, I step out and warily approach the driver’s side door.