Four
How was Charlie going to work with Prince Nosebreaker for eight weeks?
Eight weeks!
What on earth could a pampered royal understand about these hurting kids? And she didn’t need any more “impressions” from
him to know The Mistletoe Wish didn’t need his brand of help.
“I don’t know if The Wish is the right fit for someone of Prince Arran’s caliber.”
Luke’s head locked into a tilt as he stared at Charlie. “I thought you needed all the help you could—”
“Volunteering is for folks who are used to working with people in more”—she waved her drink can as if to find the word—“humble
and broken situations. Which means the spotlight isn’t on the volunteers.” Her gaze flashed to Arran. “It’s on the kids.”
Prince Delinquent’s golden brows took an upswing. “I realize I’ve not given you much reason to trust me or my abilities, but
I can assure you there will be no repeat of last night.”
She stared back into those blue eyes, searching for any hint of insincerity.
“Charlie, Ellie recommended him because she thinks he’d be a great help. He has experience with fundraisers on the scale of
an entire country, so first impressions may not be all they’re cracked up to be in this case. Besides, you know how Murphy
is with new folks.”
She shot Luke a powerless glare. First of all, why did he have to invoke Ellie’s name? Charlie adored Ellie and desperately needed the woman’s help to reform her wardrobe and public speaking abilities and... well, all of her.
Low blow from the cousin.
Number two? Second chances were Charlie’s ultimate kryptonite. Her favorite movie and book trope.
She sent the prince another look and then released a sigh, his work-worn clothes and dusty brow softening her ire.
“Fine,” she announced as heat rose into her face. “I can certainly use the help.”
Arran stepped closer. “Again, I apologize for...” His attention moved to her nose. “Everything. And I am determined to
make all future impressions much better than the first. Hopefully I can prove I am not who you think I am.”
The intensity in his stare proved more uncomfortable than the ache in her nose.
And suddenly, she wasn’t too sure she wanted him to disprove her initial belief. Because perhaps his determination for a second
chance might leave a more lasting impression than any nose-breaking episode.
As soon as she could manage, she left the worksite and went home. Mostly because she didn’t like the way the Snoring Sovereign
kept looking at her. As if he truly was sorry for last night and ... that he saw her in ways she didn’t fully understand.
But Charlie also wanted to review notes with someone for her first supervised fundraiser.
She hated to admit it, but she did need another reliable person on her team... assuming the Royal Rascal could be reliable.
Would he really be able to prove those first impressions false?
She shook the question from her mind and revisited her own need for improvements. How was she ever going to refine herself
enough to present as a well-spoken, composed lady?
Then a good old-fashioned Appalachian idea popped to mind.
What about a trade?
Her grin tipped in sync with the growing epiphany. If she agreed to help Ellie’s brother succeed at this royal reformation
experiment, then perhaps Ellie would give Charlie the makeover she needed.
December offered a perfect goal point, with the Gala speech as her finale.
She pushed through the front door of her house, fixed some tea, and then settled down at her desk to review the volunteer
and equipment list for the fall festival. She’d barely made it through a few files when her phone buzzed to life. Ellie’s
name popped up on the screen.
Charlie raised the phone to her ear and barely got out the words, “Hey, Ellie.”
“Arran broke your nose!”
Charlie relaxed back in her desk chair. “It’s fine. Really.”
“At first I thought Arran’s somber mood was due to working with Luke.” The sadness in Ellie’s voice paused Charlie’s sarcasm
a little, and the image of him asking for forgiveness came back to mind. “But then he couldn’t stop mentioning his horror
in hurting you and secondary remorse in behaving like a complete idiot.”
Charlie’s lips twitched. Okay, maybe the sarcasm could never be completely subdued. She was an Edgewood, after all.
“It’s not like I haven’t been hit in the nose before. I work in construction with a bunch of men.”
“You need to know, Charlotte, Arran is a good guy.” Ellie sighed. “I know women usually excel at being the most impacted by
heartbreak, but Arran’s path of self-destruction could very well win an award. It’s only been in the last few months that
we’ve seen glimpses of the man he used to be before... Angelica.”
Angelica? Heartbreak? Her chest twinged a teensy bit in response. But Charlie decided ignorance proved the safer choice.
“And, of course, everything is distorted or exaggerated when the media becomes involved.”
The very idea of the media following her around sent a shudder through her body, and her ire toward the prince eased a little
more. In the grand scheme of things, Arran’s initial impression truly was a small thing. Especially with the knowledge of
Murphy’s pride and the potency of his home-brewed whiskey.
Another chink in her frustration collapsed. Forgiveness was one of the most beautiful themes of the Bible and a comforting
truth she’d revisited throughout her life. Her father exemplified his choice to forgive in the way he’d prayed for and spoken
about Mom, despite all she’d done, encouraging Charlie to forgive as well.
She sighed. Everyone needed the opportunity for a second chance. Even rogue princes with perfect hair and teeth and crazy-blue
eyes.
“But truly,” Ellie continued, “once you see him when he’s not suffering from poor judgment and an inflated sense of self-importance,
you may find him quite endearing.”
Charlie’s tight-lipped hold on her grin started to loosen at “poor judgment” and completely disappeared at “inflated sense
of self-importance.” The idea of finding the guy who’d vomited on her “endearing” had her losing all control of her laugh.
“Endearing? Hmm... I’m not sure I see that on the horizon.”
“Well, at least you still have your sense of humor.” Charlie thought she heard a slight smile that warmed Ellie’s words. “And
I truly believe working with the charity will not only highlight his strengths but prove good for his heart. He’s always loved
and excelled at service.”
Service?
The Snoring Sovereign loves service?
Charlie barely stifled her eye roll. Sure.
Charlie shook away the thought and launched into her newly concocted plan. “You want Arran to highlight his best qualities, right?”
“Yes.”
“And I need someone to teach me how to present myself well: hair, clothes, dancing, public speaking...”
“Am I hearing you want a makeover? Oh, this is delightful!” The lilt in Ellie’s voice sparked a twinge of hope and fear. “With
your eyes and that hair...”
“But nothing extreme. Just to help me become more polished. Tips, really.” Charlie’s face grew hot. “Simple. Classy.”
“Of course.” Ellie sounded much too excited. “So, basically, you’ll help Arran with a reputation and heart makeover, of sorts,
while Arran and I assist you in a makeover at the superficial level.”
Wait. Arran?
“It’s a perfect exchange,” Ellie continued. “When I’m gone for business, he’ll be here to help you. And you can provide some
added motivation for Arran’s reformation.”
Charlie’s stomach dropped. “What do you mean?”
“He is determined to prove to you that a pint and pub are not the sum of who he is.”
Charlie’s grin twitched again, the entire situation almost unbelievable. A mutual makeover, of sorts, between a prince and
a carpenter?
Crazy stuff. Sounded like a reality TV show idea.
“So, you’ll agree to it?”
“You have a deal.” The smile in Ellie’s voice was undeniable.
“Perfect, because I could really use some public speaking help soon. My first presentation is at the end of the month, at
a countywide in-service for all the faculty of the schools. I’m trying to encourage community involvement in The Wish. Plus,
teachers and social workers can offer more names of folks we can serve.”
“I’ll email you a list of ideas. Some staples for your wardrobe and fashion tips. And we could meet next week, perhaps, to talk about dancing and presentation?”
Charlie’s stomach vaulted at the idea of revisiting the long-forgotten waters of... girliness. “Sounds great.”
They hung up, and Charlie leaned back in her chair.
Maybe she’d never learned how to be a “lady” since she was raised by a mountain-man single dad and inclined to hang out with
“the boys.” But deep inside she wondered if her tomboyishness had something to do with the fact that if she put forth effort
to look attractive or poised, and failed... then she was only proving Mama right.
That Charlie wasn’t enough.
And proving her mama right was the last thing she ever wanted to do.