Christine Rimmer - The Rancher's Christmas Princess

“This way.” He touched her gloved hand where it wrapped around his forearm. They started off down the street.

The bodyguard fell back several paces. It wasn’t that hard to pretend he wasn’t there.

* * *

The Bull’s Eye Steakhouse and Casino was in a brick storefront between the Upper Crust Bakery and Elk Creek Cleaners. The sign out front was a target with a giant red arrow sticking out of the center. Miniature multicolored Christmas lights framed the front windows and the door.

Inside, nothing had changed since the last time Pres ate there. The walls were paneled in bead board up to the chair rails and decorated with a lot of bad paintings of cowboys on trail drives. The tablecloths? Vinyl, printed with Western scenes. The chairs had red vinyl cushions and backs. There was a full bar. In the back was the “casino,” which consisted of two poker tables and a row of gambling machines. From the dining room, faintly, you could hear the never-ending sound effects from the machines.

The Bull’s Eye wasn’t exactly jumping that early December night. Pres had called ahead and told the owner which table he wanted. It was the one tucked into that quiet corner, across from the bar.

Daisy Littlejohn, the owner’s daughter, greeted them, waited for Pres to hang their coats and his hat on the coat tree by the door next to the Christmas tree and then led them to the table he’d asked for. Once they were settled in the red vinyl chairs, she handed them menus. “Wayne will be right with you.”

Wayne, the waiter, knew his job. They went through the business of ordering drinks and food. He got all that out of the way quickly. In no time, they were left alone with a bread basket and a nice bottle of red wine.

“It’s not fancy,” Pres said, “but I think you’ll like that rib eye you ordered.”

“I’m sure I will.” She sipped from her water glass.

Pres had ended up facing the door. The bodyguard stood by the row of chairs in front of the register, out of the way. He seemed to be good at blending in. Daisy was behind the register counter, fiddling with some receipts or something. She seemed totally oblivious to the big, silent fellow standing right there beside her.

“I looked you up on the internet,” Pres confessed.

Belle nodded, apparently not in any way surprised. “Did you find out anything interesting?”

He buttered a hunk of bread. “I learned about what happened to your brother.”

She nodded. “It was terrible for all of us. We were sure he had died. But he returned to us. And it’s over now. His wife, who is like a sister to me, is expecting twins next month. They are very much in love, Lili and Alex.”

“I read that your Lili is a princess from the island country of Alagonia.”

“Yes. Lili’s the crown princess, the heir presumptive.”

He chuckled. She amused him to no end with her talk of princes and crowns, of thrones and titles. “And that means?”

“Lili’s an only child. If her father, the king, never has a son, she will rule Alagonia one day. She’s called the heir presumptive because it’s presumed that she will one day be queen, barring the birth of a male heir. If she were a man, she would be called the heir apparent and her position as first in line of succession would be secure, regardless of any future children her father might have.”

He studied her expression. “Somehow, you don’t approve of that?”

“Well, I think it’s somewhat...backward. As though men were born naturally superior to women, naturally more suited to rule and therefore should take precedence. Everyone in the modern world knows that’s completely untrue.”

Pres set down his butter knife. “You expecting me to argue that point with you?”

“Were you planning to?”

“Not a chance.”

She sent him a sideways look. “Good thinking, Preston.”

He moved on to a safer subject. “I also read that you’re a nurse, that you work with Nurses Without Boundaries.”

“Yes. In my family, we believe in being useful. I don’t do a lot of hands-on nursing, but I am able to help raise awareness—and necessary funds—to get supplies and medical personnel where they’re most needed around the world.” She was so damn easy on the eyes. He could have sat there across from her forever, listening to her beautiful voice, watching her face, on the lookout for a hint of a smile. And he really was impressed that she was a nurse. She’d gone and gotten herself an education in a useful profession, even though she probably had money running out her ears and would never actually need to work. “What else did you learn about me?” she asked.

He swallowed a bite of bread. “Your oldest brother, the heir to the throne, is a widower with two children.”

She picked up her wine, took a small sip. “What else?”

“Your second-born brother married a lawyer from Texas who happened to be the mother of his son.”

She chuckled. A beautiful sound. “That’s a long story. For another time.”

“None of your sisters are married. Neither is your one other brother, Alexander’s twin, Damien. I also read all about your mother and father and how they met.”

She gave an elegant shrug. “How did your parents meet?”

“My dad was six, my mom was five. It was her first day of kindergarten.”

“Ah,” she said. “Love fated from childhood.”

“I don’t know about that. The story goes that he chased her around the playground. She ran away screaming, tripped and needed seven stitches in her chin. She didn’t let him near her for years after that.”

“At least it was a memorable meeting.”

“It certainly was.”

Wayne brought their salads. They ate, talking easily. Of her life. Of his. The steaks came—and were terrific as always. He told her he was an agriculture major in college. She said she’d gotten her nursing degree in America, at Duke University.

He knew that this dinner was supposed to be an opportunity for her to get down to whatever it was that she needed to discuss with him. Didn’t matter. It felt like a date to Preston. A real date. A successful date, the kind of date that has a man thinking he will ask this woman out again. The kind of date that makes the world seem new and fresh and full of promise.

He kept reminding himself that it really wasn’t a date. That any minute now, she was going to get down to it, to tell him what was going on.

But she didn’t tell him. They had coffee and the Bull’s Eye’s famous bread pudding.

And she remained not the least forthcoming as to why she’d been asking around town about him. He probably should have been more bothered about that, should have pushed at her to get on with it.

But he wasn’t all that bothered and he didn’t feel like pushing. He was enjoying himself too much. By the time he’d swallowed the last of his bread pudding, he was starting to think he didn’t really care if she ever told him why she’d been looking for him.

The bodyguard was still waiting patiently by the door when they went to get their coats. Pres helped Belle into hers.

She looked back over her shoulder at him. “Thank you, Preston.”

He had his hands on her slim shoulders. He never wanted to take them away. And he wasn’t ready for the evening to end. “How about a drive out to my ranch?”

“Yes, I would like that.”

He let go of her reluctantly and reached for his hat. “It’s a half-an-hour ride,” he warned because it only seemed fair to let her know the trip would take a while. “A half hour each way.”

“That’s fine. Marcus will follow us and drive me back. That way you won’t have to make two trips.”

“I don’t mind making two trips.” The words came out husky and full of meanings he hadn’t intended to put in them.