Royal Hearts (Love At The Lake #2)

Chapter 20

Twenty

WINTER

W e pull off the main road to the public parking above Vikingstrong and I jump out of the van and into the cold.

“There’s no good way to get everyone down,” Cat says, knowing good and well what kind of hike it is and that the ladies in heels will never make it. “Especially with the snow starting to accumulate.” She peels off the group and comes to stand next to me while I gaze at the lake below. “Are you okay?”

“I want to check on the horses.” I don’t know how to tell her that I can’t articulate what’s wrong with me. Suddenly, faking it on this show is excruciatingly painful, the last thing on earth I want to do. I’d almost rather move back to Denmark if I have to keep playing this game and that gives me pause. Abdication is an option, but I want to be a part of the crown, just my way.

Could I have both? Do I have the nerve to try?

It’s nearing five o’clock now, the temps are dropping, and the wind is picking up. Water crashes more than normal on the beach below. There’s a storm coming.

“Um,” Mandy pipes up, “We aren’t dressed for a hike, Cat.”

“Aren’t we going to make drinks?” Lexi A. from Alabama holds up the eggnog.

“I just,” I drag a hand down my face, unsure how I got here. Not here, as in Vikingstrong, but here , as in this mess with a show I’m finding out I want nothing to do with. “I’m sorry, I want to check on a few things before the weather turns.”

I want to show up for my country, and make them proud, but not like this.

I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. I’ve completely lost track of why I’m here. Did I really want to punish Cat? Was I really that pissed? She did nothing wrong other than telling a little fib. Why did I seek her out like this? Why did I insert myself into her business? Why was I so obsessed with making her pay?

We had sparks from the start, and as I’ve come to know her, I’ve realized perhaps we got off on the wrong foot. How different things might have been if I hadn’t overreacted at the game? Now, I know she cares deeply for others, including her sister. It explains everything.

I could never have predicted the way she’d support me. She’s taken care of me with an unspoken understanding of my struggles with anxiety, media, the Crown—all of it.

The thought rocks inside my chest, crashing like the water in the lake on the beach below. I don’t want to know this about myself, to know that I went way overboard, because I was scared of my own shortcomings. Scared to be taken advantage of, believing that everyone wanted something from me. And then of all people to prove me wrong, it’s Cat Bloomfield.

What the fuck?

“Take them back in the van. I’ll meet you there,” I command no one in particular .

Marco opens his mouth to protest but Cat interjects. “He needs a minute, Marco. We can give him a minute.”

“Fine.” Marco nods, motioning for the ladies to get back in the van. They all groan thankfully. “But stay with him, we’ll send the van right back for you.” Robbie and Cat trek down the mountain after me, snowfall making it slick. I glance over my shoulder, gauging my distance from Cat in case she slips.

“Hey, excuse me, sir. I am not dressed for a hike down a mountain in the dead of winter, either!” Cat hollers.

“You have a suitable coat, but you’re too stubborn to wear it,” I holler back.

I’m pissed. Mad at her for not wanting anything from me to the point of not taking my help, refusing to let me in. Mad at myself for wanting in so badly.

They struggle to keep up as I wrap around the castle, skirting the lake and finally come to large stable doors with wrought iron pulls.

“Winter, hold up,” Cat says. But I’m on a mission, making my way down the row of stalls.

“Here they are.” I pull apples from a bag on the wall and feed one to Daylight, and one to her colt, Destiny. Instantly, I feel better. Grounded.

“They’re both beautiful. Can I?” Cat comes to stand at my side, raising her hand to pet Destiny’s pink nose.

“Sure, let her see your hand first.” I flatten her palm out while the horse investigates, sniffing and snorting, then gently place a red apple in her hand. It’s gone in a flash of fat teeth.

Destiny tosses her head a little. “Her nose is so soft,” Cat says.

I hand her another apple.

The horse greedily gobbles the treat and slobbers generously on Cat’s palm. If she minds, she doesn’t show it.

“What happened back there? What’s happening with you today, in general?” she asks.

How do I explain what’s happening to me when I don’t know myself? “You’re a natural. Animals can sense who you are, what you want, how you feel. She likes you.”

“Does she?” She holds my gaze. “Do you? Really? After everything?”

I told her I was attracted to her, but just because I’ve had a change of heart doesn’t mean she has. “Do you want to talk about it?”

She bites her lip. “Winter, you know we can’t do anything more than like each other , right?”

“Come on, then.” It’s not what I want to hear, but also, I’m not a quitter. I grab her hand and pull her further down the hall, rounding a corner into my small office with all sorts of horsey things on the walls.

I plop into a well-worn leather chair on a swivel and pick up an ancient landline covered with dust and dirt. Space heaters litter the room, the smell of oats and particles in the air. I unbutton my stupid bartender vest from the lodge and toss it to a corner of the room.

“Hey,” I say into the phone to one of the guys who works my horses when I can’t, “Can you get the draft horses ready? It’s about time we get the sleigh up to the lodge. I’ll take it for a test spin or two over the next week before showtime.”

“Showtime?” Cat asks from the doorway, her eyes casting all over the room but her feet stuck outside. It’s as if she doesn’t want to step fully into my world. She’s hesitant, and I don’t blame her. I’m freaking out, no idea where things lie with us.

“The kids from the grade school in town come up to the lodge every year on Christmas Eve for a sleigh ride around the mountains. I’m a sleigh-driving Santa. Are you shocked?”

“No. A month ago I would have been, but I can see it,” she says, idly dusting her fingers over old bridles tacked to the wall. “You’re surprisingly sweet under all your sad puppy eyes and porcupine quills.” She can’t meet my gaze when she says it .

Still, I watch her touch everything, memorizing her in my space.

“Hmm.” I flip through some paperwork on the desk. “Annie says something very similar.” I stand, trying to hide my new delight at the decision I’ve just made. “Okay, ready?”

“For what?”

“To ride back?” I need to get this girl on a horse. I don’t know why, I just do.

“But you sent the van back to the Lodge. We’ll have to wait a while for it to circle back for us.”

“Nope. We’re taking Daylight.”

“We? What about Robbie?”

Shit, I forgot all about Robbie and his eagle-eye-long lens. He’s hovering a few feet outside the doorway. “Can you ride a horse with that thing on your shoulder?”

He shakes his blue mohawk no, an incredulous look on his face.

“We can’t go without him,” Cat protests.

“Who’s going to stop us, Bloom?”

“Winter, I, about earlier . . .” It’s in her eyes, there’s a warmth that wasn’t there before, her guard is coming down and her walls are crumbling whether she likes it or not.

But she’s struggling with the choice, I can see that. “Come on, Robbie, follow me. I’ve already arranged a suitable ride.” I pull on an old sweater I left at some point in the barn, and a spare coat off a hook for her.

Cat and I mount Daylight, with a small boost from me first to get her in the saddle. It takes some serious debating with Robbie to get the man awkwardly on the back of the sleigh, his camera aimed at my horse. But we’re finally all making our way through a snow-dusted town. It’s quiet, most shop owners have closed up due to the weather. Twisting lake roads are nothing to mess with covered in ice. Robbie rocks from side to side on the back of the sleigh while it’s drawn by my horses and my wrangler as they head up the mountain.

He doesn’t look happy, but he does look funny.

When I check on Cat behind me, snowflakes dot strands of her hair and dust the tip of her nose. Her lips are crimson and positively kissable against the white background and I mentally chastise myself for even going there.

I’m torturing myself on purpose now.

Riding on horseback with Cat gripping me around my middle, despite the fact Robbie is facing us with his damn camera, is kind of perfect. I can’t quite put my finger on what it’s making me feel. Not long ago I would have hated it—feeling her all pressed up behind me in the saddle and feeling every shift of our torsos as we ride—because I thought she was awful and I thought I hated her.

Now, not only has all that misplaced anger melted away, but I find myself past the point of curious about Cat Bloomfield. I find I’m obsessed with figuring out what makes her tick. I want to know her, in any way she’ll let me.

I don’t want this time between us to end. We’ve been around each other nonstop the past month and as each day progresses, I’m more and more sad when it ends. When she goes her way, and I go mine.

I steal another glance over my shoulder. “You look good on a horse. Feel good.” I transfer the reins to one hand and squeeze her hands where they’re clasped around me. “Let’s try to lose them.”

“What? No, we can’t!”

“You know, contrary to what everyone believes, I’m not a puppet. I’m not a dog to be trotted out for show. I’m sick of the cameras and sick of doing what everyone else wants me to do.”

“I know, but it’s only a few more weeks.”

“It’s been my entire life, Cat, and I’m exhausted.”

She drops her forehead between my shoulder blades as if giving in. I think she’s tired, too.

“A lot of people would kill to be in your shoes,” she whispers. “ Are you sure you want to give it up so easily, to give up looking for someone on the show? We could go back, finish the date . . .”

“Are you really asking me that question?” I laugh. Absurd. She knows there’s no one on the show I’m interested in.

I think she knows who I want.

But she keeps pushing, determined as ever. “Yes. To have a chance at finding love handed to them on a platter? It’s a privilege.”

“Are you speaking personally?”

“God, no.”

“See? So why am I supposed to love opening my life, myself, for everyone to see but you’d have nothing to do with it?”

She shakes her head. “It’s not in the cards for me.”

“Going on a reality show to nab a Prince Charming?”

“Nabbing anyone. I don’t do relationships, never have. I would never give someone that kind of power over me.”

“Never?”

“I mean, the few times I’ve let things get a little serious they never worked out. And then I got hurt. And then I felt?—”

“Weak.”

She takes in a slow controlled breath, contemplating her response. “I can take care of myself, I always have. It’s easier that way.”

“Turn your mic off.”

“What?”

“You’re wearing a mic,” I remind her.

“Oh, yeah. Why?”

“Bloom” I groan. I’m trying to be spontaneous. And it might land me in a tub of hot water with her, but I can’t care about the risk right now. All I can do is get away from all of this, and fuck if I’m not going to take her with me. She needs a break as much as I do. She needs a soft place to land. “Aren’t you tired of all this?”

I’ve hit a nerve because she relaxes behind me and says, “Okay, okay,” and reaches around her back while keeping one arm wrapped around my waist to turn her mic off.

“Mine too, please.”

Without hesitating, she pushes my sweater up in the back. “Shit, Bloom, your hands are cold.”

She lets her fingers graze bare skin, enjoying my torture a little too much. “Done. They’re both off. Marco is going to have an aneurysm.”

Ahead, Robbie’s face drops instantly when he realizes he has no audio. Somewhere, I imagine Marco has gone nuclear, but neither of us has a phone and there’s no way for him to communicate with us.

“Now, hold on tight.”

“Why?”

I kick Daylight firmly with my heels and pull her reins to turn her.

The horse pivots on a dime, and we take off like a shot.

The snow falls heavier and heavier with every second we ride. We cut through trees, taking hiking trails off the road. There’s only a short way to go before we make it back to Main Street, then we can slow our pace and wind back to Vikingstrong.

But for now, I let the horse run.

“Hold on tight,” I shout with another quick glance over my shoulder.

The pounding of hooves against the ground rings out as we ride. Cat’s hands squeeze right in the center of my chest as she holds on. Equestrian riding usually requires holding the reins with two hands, but this horse can neck rein so I grip both in one hand and reach up to press my palm over her hands.

“Do you like going fast?” I shout over my shoulder.

“I love it!”

She’s beaming. But that doesn’t last long, because when I look back, there’s a low hanging branch headed straight for us. There’s no time to turn, so I drop the reins and swing one leg over the horse’s neck to make a moving dismount. I’ve never done this with someone else in the saddle, but I manage to grab Cat around the waist and take her with me.

She screams as we land and the horse continues galloping right under the enormous branch that would have taken us out.

I hit the ground on solid footing, but the force of both our bodies propelling off the horse is too much to stabilize, and we go rolling in the snow. Both my hands wrap instinctually around her head, trying to save her from serious injury.

“Holyfuckshit,” I gasp as we tumble through deep snow that most definitely broke our fall. I land on top of her, bracing my weight immediately, my eyes searching her stunned face.

“What the hell was that, cowboy?” Her lips are blue, her face is white, but her humor is still intact. A good sign for sure. My hands search her face, no cuts, no gashes anywhere I can see. Another good sign.

“There was a branch, and no time,” I’m breathing heavily all over her, surveying her from head, to neck, to torso. My hair falls in my face and I push it back, I need to see every inch of her unharmed before I’ll be satisfied.

“Winter, relax. I’m okay. Are you okay?”

“Don’t worry about me, is anything broken?” Continuing with my assessment, I open the coat she’s wearing to gingerly run my figers over her ribcage checking for breaks or pain. She sucks in a breath. “Tender?”

“No.” She looks up at me through her lashes and shakes her head.

I bend one arm and then the other. Run my hands down her legs, bending both her knees, checking one ankle, and then rotating the other.

“Ouch, shit, don’t do that,” she breathes.

“Does it hurt?”

“Yes, Winter.” She sits up more in the snow, her clothes soaked but there’s no blood to be seen. Thank God. “It hurts. ”

“Cat, I didn’t think, I just jumped and took you with me.”

“It’s fine, I’m fine.”

“You’re not. Your ankle’s sprained, I think.”

I shove a handful of snow in her boot and she yelps. “What are you doing?”

“Putting snow on your ankle, in case it swells up like a balloon. Do you want me to take your boot off first? I’m not sure if I’m supposed to do that?”

“No, I don’t want you to take my boot off,” she answers, incredulous. “How are we going to get back?” Towering trees rise above us and she looks up to the sky.

“I’ll go after the horse. You sit tight, I’ll be right back.”

She groans, “That’s what they say in slasher movies! Don’t say that!”

“Worried about me?” I joke, anything to make light of our situation, of how scared I was that I’d gotten her hurt.

“I’m worried about me,” she says, then adds, “And maybe I’m worried about you just a little. I’m glad you’re not hurt.” She pats at her hair and looks around the forest. “There’s so much white.”

“That makes two of us, Bloom. And yeah, this is a lot of snow. We need to get out of here.”

“Then be safe,” she gestures with her chin as if shooing me off, “but only because you’re my ride home, cowboy.”

“Ma’am. I will return.”

“Winter, I’m serious. Be careful.” A cracking branch echoes nearby and she jumps.

“Just trees bending under the weight of snowfall,” I say, grasping her around the waist and lifting her into my arms.

There’s more coming down around us. It seems to be picking up. She’s scared, and I get it. We nearly broke our necks and now I’ve got to go find this horse if we want to make it home without getting frostbite.

“What are you doing?”

Though I relish the feel of her in my arms, I set her gently against a tree and check her coat pockets. An old beanie I wear when I ride is there and I plunk it on her head. “I swear it, I’ll get you home safe.”

“You should wear your hat,” she says, but pulls it low over her ears as she shivers. That makes me smile.

I press a light kiss to the top of her head as I stand. If she thinks anything of it, she doesn’t say a word. “It’s going to be okay, Cat. Trust me.”

She nods, and I head off into the trees praying our horse hasn’t gone far.