Amelia and Her Prince Charming (Enchanted Forresters)

Chapter 1

Hudson

A word of advice: don’t enter a bet with my older brother. He never loses.

Which was how I ended up in the quad of our university on the coldest day of the year so far, wearing nothing but an American flag speedo and cowboy boots.

“Vote for me for president!” I called out to a group of students who walked by in coats, scarves, and beanies.

To my left, I heard the snickers of Shiloh—my brother—and Dylan—our best friend—as one of the giggling students took a picture of me and then rushed off.

Great.

That was the kind of picture that would tank any chance I had in the future of actually running for president. Not that I ever would. Speaking in front of so many people? I couldn’t think of a worse torture.

Except this.

How did Shiloh think of these things? And how did he always get me to agree to do them?

He had that way about him—a charisma most people only dreamed of having.

He was fun, outgoing, and the kind of person to give you the shirt off his back (unless you lost a bet, in which case you had to remove your shirt).

I idolized him in every way, which was why I’d followed him and Dylan to Michigan State.

They were in their last year, both already signed with pro-hockey teams, while I still had one more year of undergrad, and then another eight more of medical school.

“I’ll vote for you.”

I closed my eyes, not wanting to turn around. I recognized that voice. Amelia Dickinson. The girl I’d had a crush on since Freshman English class two years ago. She was gorgeous, witty, playful, and for some reason had decided to be friends with me.

I’d noticed her long before she’d noticed me, which was why I’d seen her shivering in class after our first snowfall of the season.

She’d been wearing a light sweater and sandals, and I insisted she take my seat right next to the heater.

The next day, after talking myself into it, I brought an extra coffee to class with me and gave it to her before sitting on the other side of the room.

She’d stared at it before taking a cautious sip, and I realized that I probably looked like a stalker-creep and vowed to avoid her until the end of all time—or at least until the end of the semester.

But the next day, Amelia saved a seat for me next to her, asked me my name, and we’d been friends ever since.

We also continued to trade off bringing drinks to class for each other.

I hadn’t told Shiloh or Dylan about her because they’d pressure me to ask her out, and I was playing the long game.

The really long game. My plan was to work up the courage to ask her on a date the semester before we graduated.

“Do I want to ask what’s going on?” Amelia walked around to stand in front of me, her hands on her hips.

Her gaze dropped from mine to follow the bare line of my chest, down past the Speedo and my goosebumped legs to the cowboy boots.

I’d never been so happy for my daily gym visits with Dylan and Shiloh.

I didn’t play on our university hockey team like they did, but I’d always worked out with them.

I crossed my hands down in front of me. “I bet against the Peaks, and they won the Hockey National championship.”

Amelia covered her mouth in a sorry attempt to hide her smile. Especially since her eyes always conveyed exactly what she was thinking.

At five-foot nothing, the top of her head barely came to my chest, but whenever she was around, her presence filled my whole sphere of vision.

“I think I need to meet the diabolical mind that came up with this.”

Shiloh approached, Dylan close behind, huge grins on their faces.

Shiloh wore his dark wool coat and jeans, and walked with the confidence of someone who had never once felt uncomfortable in his life.

I had no doubt that if our roles were switched, he’d be owning the Speedo and boots combo, and have made new fans by the end of his hour.

“Excuse me, miss,” Shiloh said teasingly. “But you’re distracting my brother from his penance for betting against the greatest hockey team to ever play.”

“Am I?” She raised an eyebrow at Shiloh. “I assume you’re to blame for this.”

“Blame?” He gave her his winning smile, the one that had girls lining up for him since we were little. “I think the word you’re looking for is thank.”

She laughed and shook her head. “You’re trouble, aren’t you?”

“The best kind,” he replied.

My stomach sank. Were they flirting?

“I’m Shiloh.”

“Amelia,” she replied with a smile that lit up her entire face.

“And how do you know my brother?”

“We’ve had some classes together.”

The words hit me like a puck to the chest. They were true, technically.

But it was more than that too. Study sessions at the cafe once a week.

Inside jokes. Text messages and walking to classes.

We’d even gone to every single classic movie at the campus cinema together for extra credit in our writing class.

“What’s your major, Amy. Can I call you Amy?”

“Sure.” She looked down, and her lashes swept her cheeks shyly. I’d never seen that expression on her face before. “I’m majoring in English education.”

“Then how in the world do you two have classes together?” Shiloh asked with a chuckle.

Because I’d added a literature class to my heavy anatomy and physiology workload every semester. And not just because I wanted to have a class with Amelia and needed an excuse to keep seeing her. “You know I love literature.”

Was it a recent love? Maybe.

Dylan’s gaze on me was sharp and knowing, but Shiloh didn’t notice my stretch of truth. Amelia seemed to fill his entire sphere of vision too.

“Hey, you still have thirty minutes left,” Shiloh reminded me, but something in my face made him pause, and he stepped closer, his voice low. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” I was going for unbothered, but it came out abrupt.

Shiloh opened his mouth to say something else, probably to end the whole thing, but I yelled out to a group walking by, “Vote for me!” to cut him off. I wasn’t going to wimp out in front of Amelia.

Amelia asked Shiloh his major, and soon he was telling her about hockey. Dylan joined in for a while, but then he got a phone call that distracted him.

Over the next half hour, I caught snippets of their conversation and noticed how they kept drifting closer and closer together.

At one point, he took her hand and was studying her fingers as they spoke.

At another, she pulled out her phone, and they texted each other their numbers.

She glowed in a way I’d never seen before.

When my time was finally up, and every limb in my body had succumbed to numbness from the cold, Amelia and Shiloh leaned into a lingering hug and promised to see each other Friday night.

Amelia floated toward me next and gave me a distracted side hug.

“You’re freezing,” she said, rubbing my arm. “Get warm, okay? I need you healthy to brainstorm my Great Expectations analysis with me.”

Shiloh sauntered over, but his dazed gaze remained on Amelia as she walked away. “I just met the girl of my dreams.”

No, he met the girl of my dreams. I could tell him that. How I was working up the courage to ask her on a date. How she made me feel more known and seen than any woman I’d ever met. How being close to her lit me up inside.

But I didn’t say anything at all because Amelia deserved someone as incredible as her—someone exactly like my brother.