Holly Jacobs - Once Upon A Prince

“This is our vehicle?” the prince asked, sounding less than enthused.

“No. A Harley is not a vehicle. It’s a bike, a hog, a way of life, but not a vehicle. That’s too plain, too mundane a word to describe a Harley.”

“You love this bike.” It was a statement, not a question.

“Yeah, I do.”

She wasn’t embarrassed by the fact. She’d worked hard to buy the bike. It was more than a memory, more than transportation. The Harley represented how far she’d come from the little girl wearing hand-me-down clothes at school.

“But it’s simply a way of getting from one place to another.” He looked confused.

“A Harley is more than simply a method of going from one place to another.”

He shook his head.

“Have you ever ridden one of these?” Shey asked, though she was pretty sure she knew the answer.

“No.”

“Then let me teach you a thing or two.”

Shey got her spare helmet off the back and handed it to His Royal Cluelessness. “Here, put this on.”

She expected him to fuss that it would mess his perfect hair, that it wasn’t cool to wear a helmet, but the prince simply put it on.

Even though Pennsylvania had recently rescinded its helmet requirements, Shey was still a stickler for them. She slipped on her own helmet, slid her leg over the seat and started the bike.

It roared to life.

“Okay, climb on behind me,” she practically shouted in order to be heard over the rumble of the engine.

The prince did as instructed. His body pressed tightly against hers. His arms wrapped around her waist.

A small shiver of something crept up Shey’s spine.

It had been months since any man had touched her. Her reaction to the prince was simply a hormonal thing. Nothing more.

She kicked the bike into gear and started toward 12th Street.

“Hang on,” she called and she slipped into second, then quickly into third gear.

The feel of wind rushing against her face, the speed…riding the bike never failed to soothe her. But there was something different tonight—the man whose arms were wrapped lightly around her waist. The effect wasn’t quite as soothing as normal. As a matter of fact, there was a strange sensation that twisted her stomach and left her feeling short of breath.

Shey ignored it and simply concentrated on taking the prince to Monarch’s.

She’d let Parker deal with him.

Parker would send the prince packing and things would get back to normal.

Parker, Cara and Shey, three college friends, worked together at the coffeehouse, Monarch’s, and Titles Bookstore. No guys to muddle things up.

Shey remembered the night they’d come up with the names for their two attached stores. Parker had supplied the financial backing for the venture and they’d wanted to do something to acknowledge their royal friend. They’d all three laughed as they passed the bottle of wine and talked about the future—theirs and the stores’.

Shey had never had women friends before Parker and Cara, but if she’d been asked who’d she’d pick as friends, she would never have said a princess and someone like Cara, a quiet, soft-hearted woman.

Truth be told, when it came down to it, she hadn’t picked Parker and Cara at all…they’d simply meshed. Three people who’d connected and become friends. Friends who were closer than most families.

The prince’s arms tightened ever so slightly, reminding Shey of her unwanted passenger, jolting her from her thoughts.

* * *

Tanner Ericson knew that coming to Erie and collecting his fiancée was going to be a challenge. Marie Anna’s father had told him she might be a bit reluctant.

He’d prepared himself for all kinds of scenarios. But never in his wildest imagination had he thought he’d be whizzing down the city streets on the back of a motorbike driven by a most intriguing woman.

Short, spiky red hair and an attitude that screamed back off. This Shey Carlson was a tough, beautiful woman.

He inched a bit closer and tightened his arms around her waist, not so much because he was worried about falling off her motorbike, but because he liked the way she felt against him.

Eventually she turned off the four-lane street they’d been riding on, and much too soon they were pulling up to the curb.

She cut the motor and Tanner climbed off the bike. He took off his helmet and handed it to her.

“This is it,” she said.

He could hear in her voice that this place, with its small brick storefront, was special to her. The building had two doors. Over the right-hand one was a sign that read, Monarch’s Coffeehouse. It had a small crown tilted over the M.

The other sign read, Titles Bookstore. The same crown was over it, as well.

“Marie Anna’s here?”

“ Parker owns the stores, along with Cara and myself. We’re all partners.” Shey started toward Monarch’s. “Come, on, Your Highness.”

He was accustomed to being called Your Highness but he preferred going by Tanner. Of course, he understood the necessity of his title or a more formal means of address when in Amar. But he was in America now. There was no need to stand on formalities here. Not with this woman.

“Tanner,” he said. “Call me Tanner.”

She didn’t say anything, just kept right on walking.

There was nothing for Tanner to do but follow.

He entered Monarch’s and found a blond woman talking to a dark-haired man.

It had to be her—Marie Anna.

He studied the woman he’d pledged to marry.

She hadn’t changed all that much. Yes, she looked less styled: her blond hair was pulled into a messy ponytail and she had on a pair of neat khaki pants and a light blue top.

This was the woman he was going to spend the rest of his life with.

Tanner still had a hard time swallowing the fact that he had agreed to marry a woman he really didn’t know. But it was for the good of Amar.

He’d been lectured since birth that his first obligation was to his country. Small principalities like Amar and Marie Anna’s Eliason, could easily become lost in today’s world. By joining forces, the two small countries might have more clout. So in the age-old custom, he’d allowed himself to become engaged for political purposes.

At least, in public that was the reason he gave. In truth, he was just tired. Tired of women who merely wanted his title, his money. Women who thought they wanted to play princess, until they realized being a princess entailed very little play and an awful lot of hard work.

He was done.

After Stephana, he’d realized he’d never have a normal relationship with a woman, one built on mutual respect and—well, he wouldn’t admit it out loud, but the romantic in him craved a relationship based on love. But he’d simply come to the conclusion that it wouldn’t happen. That’s why he’d agreed to marry Marie Anna—Parker. She understood the intricacies of being a royal in modern society. Their union would be good for their countries.

If he couldn’t have what he wanted, then he’d settle for doing something that would be beneficial for Amar.

“Princess Marie Anna,” he said.

She stared at him and frowned.

“It’s Parker,” was her reply. “It’s been a long time, Tanner.”

“Too long,” he said, smiling at her.

There was no answering smile, as a matter of fact, her frown deepened to a scowl.

Two beautiful women had scowled at him in the last hour. Tanner didn’t like it.

“Not long enough,” she muttered.

Okay, so the pleasantries had been dealt with, time to lay his cards on the table. “Your father sent me to bring you home.”

“I am home.”

Tanner didn’t remember Marie Anna—Parker—as being so stubborn.