The princess is drunk.
And then it struck him. Wait, she’s in the house. Not the Airstream.
Declan tried like hell to fight the smile, but it broke through.
Good for her for not taking his shit.
As the Guns N’ Roses song ramped up, she bent over and flipped her hair. It was like a shampoo commercial—that glossy mane settling with a bounce.
Now, there was a sight he’d never imagined seeing, the princess head-banging. Little bits of cake flew in every direction, but it was a great song, and he wasn’t about to end the show. Not with her toned legs on display and that perfect peach-shaped ass. And that fucking hair. Thick, silky…long enough to wrap around his fist at least twice.
He leaned against the bar and watched her rock out.
Holding the bottle like a microphone, she belted out Paradise City along with Axl Rose. “So far away, so fa-ar away—” She jumped onto the coffee table, flipped her hair again, and right as she swung her head up, she caught sight of him and jerked like she’d been Tasered. The bottle of wine slipped from her grasp, and the hand with the slice of cake hit her chest. Reaching for the remote, she shut off the music. “What’re you doing here?”
He pushed off the bar. “Looks like you’re making yourself right at home.” Grabbing the bottle before the wine soaked into the carpet, he was relieved to find it empty. But little bits of chocolate cake crumbs were splattered everywhere. “How’d you get in?”
Wavering, she stepped off the table, holding her arms out to find her balance. “A little girl in riding boots.” She grinned. “She was cute. I used to be cute like that.”
He glanced up at her. “And now?”
“Now, I’m a hot mess.” Her laughter had a bitter edge to it. “Look at me.” In a flash, her features crumpled, and tears welled in her eyes.
“Yeah. Well, you’ve had a few hard hits. It’s understandable.” He took in the frosting-smeared jersey. Oh, shit. “Where did you get this? Did you take it out of the frame?”
“There’s a whole roomful of his stuff. Can you imagine? Dedicating a room to your hockey sticks and pucks and…and…”
“Trophies? Yeah, he didn’t put that room together. Tina did. If she’d left it to him, everything would be in boxes or stuffed on shelves. She organized everything.”
“He’s a narsh—a narshiss…” She looked confused that her tongue wasn’t cooperating.
“A narcissist? Nope. Not Kurt.”
As though her body were too heavy for her slender legs, she plunked down on the coffee table. Right on what was left of her cake. “I want to go home.”
His senses sharpened. “You can do that, you know.” That would be the best solution. He didn’t think she’d win the contest but knowing the possibility was out there kept him on edge. I can’t let her sell this place.
“No, I don’t have a home anymore.”
“Of course, you do. It’s back in England.”
“My parents changed the locks, and Drewsy moved me out of my room. I have nowhere to go, and I’m just so tired.” She gazed up at him with the most startling blues eyes he’d ever seen.
He couldn’t stand seeing her so sad, so he sat beside her. “What do you mean they changed the locks?”
“I didn’t marry Cameron.” She let out a long-suffering sigh. “I don’t love him.”
He needed to clean up this mess and get to bed, but she was just so fucking lost…he had to ask. “They kicked you out because you didn’t marry someone you don’t love?”
“You’re very handsome. Did you know that? You’re scary but handsome.”
“How am I scary?” He’d never heard that before. Well, on the ice sure. That was why they’d called him the Intimidator.
“You’re mean. And bad. Are you very bad?”
He chuckled. “Very, but only in two places, and since you’ll never be there”—my bed or on the ice—“you don’t have anything to worry about. Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.” He held out his hand to help her stand.
But she didn’t move. “Oh.” With a snap of her fingers, she looked around the basement as though seeing it for the first time. “I just remembered why I came down here. Does Kurt have a wine cellar?”
He had one of the best in the state—probably the country—but Declan didn’t think now was a good time to tell her. When she sobered up, she might regret chugging a thousand-dollar bottle of Château d’Yquem.
Then again, maybe she brushed her teeth with champagne. He didn’t know the first thing about her. “How about we pick some up tomorrow?”
“No, that’s okay.” She scrunched her nose. “I don’t really like booze.”
“You liked it tonight.”
“I hate-drank.”
“You what?”
“I was hot and tired, and I smelled like horse, and then I got inside the house and realized Kurt didn’t have a single picture of me anywhere, so I grabbed a bottle and started drinking.”
“All right, well, that’s a lot to deal with, and I can’t help with most of it, but I can apologize for my part in your unhappiness. I’ve been pretty shitty to you. I’m sorry about that.”
“Wait, you’re being nice to me now?”
“Mostly because I don’t want you to smear any more chocolate cake around.”
“Oh, I would never smear cake.” She said it so solemnly he had to laugh.
“It’s on your ass.” He pointed, and she twisted around.
“Oh, no.”
She looked so upset, he grabbed a dish towel from the bar. He tried handing it to her, but her motor skills weren’t the best. Instead of taking it, she bent over to give him access to her tight little ass. Just do it fast. A quick swipe and get out.
“Did you see that pretty blue box of yumminess? I love cake. I never get to eat it, though. My mum didn’t like sweets in the house, and now that I’m on my own, I can’t afford them.”
He folded the towel over to wipe away the stubborn frosting. “What do you mean you can’t afford cake?” Wasn’t she a rich girl?
“Hey.” She turned to him so quickly, her hair fanned out and feathered over his cheek. “Why does Kurt have so much frozen lemonade?”
“I can’t keep up with this conversation. How about we go to bed, and we can talk more in the morning?”
“No. Come here.” Reaching for his hand, she towed him into a large closet that held an additional refrigerator and box freezer. She lifted the lid. “Look.”
It was stuffed with cans of pink lemonade. “Oh, right.”
“What?”
“It’s for the Wild West Festival.” Maybe it’d be cancelled now that Kurt was gone. He’d have to talk to Mitch about that. He closed the lid. “Another thing we’ll handle in the morning. Come on, let’s get out of here. I’ll walk you back to the RV.”
She wagged a finger at him. “Nuh uh uh. I’m not staying there anymore. You thought you could pull one over on me, but I wised up. I’m living here this month, just like you.”