Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
LEO
Leo pumped a stream of black coffee into a cup and checked his watch. It was almost ten. He cast a glance around the town hall building. Not even a third of the creaky wooden seats were filled. It was a modest turnout, maybe twenty people. But it was necessary work.
“Catch the match last night?” Salvador Gomez, Leo’s best friend and the owner of the local pub, sidled over and picked up a stale-looking donut.
Leo took a sip. “Madrid slaughtered Barcelona. You owe me twenty euros.”
Sal grumbled and pulled a twenty out of his wallet. “Here. Put it toward better donuts next time.”
“Our baker left,” Leo explained. “This is all we have.”
Sal raised his eyebrows. “Can’t imagine your mother is pleased about that.”
“It’s John’s fault,” Leo muttered. “I’ll explain later. Grab the mic?”
Scandal aside, he would really miss Sarah. She was always pleasant, and her crusty homemade bread slathered in Irish butter was better than sex. Well, almost.
Sal nodded and dusted his hands off before picking up a wireless microphone.
Leo walked down the center aisle. Everyone in attendance leapt to their feet, and he shook his head.
“There’s no need for that,” he called to the room. But no one sat.
He sat on the edge of the table at the front of the room, dragging a yellow legal pad into his lap. Finally, everyone took their seats.
“Thank you all for coming. We’re going to start with a couple of community updates, and then we’ll air our grievances.”
A couple people chuckled.
“Captain Allard, where did we land on filling that open position for another officer?”
A beefy-looking man in uniform accepted the wireless mic from Sal. “Filled, Your Highness. Officer Trusdale joins the force next week.”
“Perfect. And I trust you’ll be able to dispatch an officer to patrol the high street? People have been flying down that road, and there are children trying to walk to school.”
“Consider it done,” the captain said.
“Excellent. Any other agenda items from the force?”
The captain mentioned some upgrades to riot gear, and Leo jotted it down. Parliament would probably balk at sending more funding to the force since they had just approved a full-time position, but it was what it was.
After a few other updates, talk turned to the winter carnival.
“Isabelle, how is setup for the carnival going?”
“Things are going well, Your Highness,” said a short, brown-haired woman with rhinestone glasses.
Leo grunted. No matter how many times he requested people drop the honorific, they never did.
“The RSVPs on the event site are encouraging, but I think foot traffic would increase if the royal family were to make an appearance on opening night?” She phrased her statement as a question. There was a hesitancy in her voice.
Leo frowned. Proceeds from this year’s carnival were going to support the local no-kill animal shelter.
Football was on tomorrow, which meant his father would be cemented to his armchair.
His mother didn’t usually attend town events, and John and his blooming black eye were supposed to be lying low. Ruby probably had plans with friends.
“I’m not sure how much it will help, but I can make an appearance tomorrow night. Everyone else is…occupied.”
“Thank you so much, Your Highness.” She was still talking fast. “There is one other thing.”
“Go on,” Leo said.
“The stage in the park is a little worse for wear. One of the stagehands almost fell through it, so we’ve had to close it off. We’ve sent a work request to the parish, but they won’t get to it until the new year.”
Leo looked at Sal, who nodded. He jotted down the issue and starred it. “We’ll take a look at it. Might be cutting it close, though.”
“We’re grateful for any help.”
She sat, and Leo opened the floor to the public. A number of issues came up—potholes, a broken printer at the library, bike lanes that needed to be repainted in the spring. He triaged the items in his notebook and dismissed the meeting.
Sal walked up and checked his watch. “I’ve got an hour. Should we go check out the damage?”
Leo nodded, and they left town hall. Leo pulled his baseball cap low over his eyes. Fortunately, as the most boring member of the royal family, the paparazzi almost always left him alone. But he wasn’t in the mood to be curtsied at.
The sun was punishingly bright, glaring off the fresh blanket of snow. Cars ground the powder into slush, and irritating Christmas lights blinked incessantly at them every step of the way.
After a quick stop at Sal’s pub to grab his tool bag, they walked to the park. The corner of a vacant lot was just visible beyond the park, and his mind turned back to the project.
There was no reason why his parents wouldn’t approve of the plan.
The lot had been vacant his whole life. It was on the edge of town and butted up against the Endless Mountains.
It wasn’t even used as a green space, so Hollybrook would lose nothing by developing it.
He even had a crew and all the other pieces in place.
It would be an incredible gift to the community.
A new library, a domestic violence shelter, a community garden, and a playground.
It would create jobs and serve the most vulnerable in their population.
If he had his way, the soup kitchen would have a new space as well, but he had to be realistic.
It was already a big ask, but one of the few pieces of power left in the royal family was directing charitable giving.
At least he could do something good with this empty title.
He had to wait until his parents were in the right mood to broach the subject, but the project needed to be approved before the end of the year.
Time was running out, and the queen hadn’t been in a good mood for longer than three minutes since their holiday in the Maldives in June.
They dodged around a person constructing a roasted nut stand and circumvented the beer tent.
Christmas decorations were everywhere. Candy canes, wooden trees, strings of lights, and even errant mistletoe.
It was a lot of fuss for a celebration of consumerism, but at least it raised money for local nonprofits.
At the back of the park, the hazardous stage waited.
Together, Leo and Sal tested each shabby board that made up the stage floor. Nails stuck out like jagged teeth. He grabbed a hammer and pounded them back in. The whole thing could stand to be replaced, but they could at least fix the unsafe boards before the carnival started.
“What are you and Callum doing for the holiday?” Leo asked over his shoulder.
Sal hooked his measuring tape on the edge of a board and walked to the other end. “We’re headed to Belfast.”
“Nice,” Leo said. Getting away from the aggressive holiday bustle of Lynoria sounded amazing.
“The weather’s going to be miserable. I assume you’re going to the quincentennial party?”
Leo scoffed. “I’m not getting involved in that. I scheduled another town hall at the same time.”
Sal raised his eyebrows. “Do you want your mother to murder you?”
“She won’t even notice. This party is the only thing she’s been talking about all year.”
“She will definitely notice if you don’t play nice and show up for the cameras. Image is everything, Leopold,” Sal mimicked in an eerily accurate impression of the queen.
“She’ll be too busy matchmaking for John.”
Despite a decade of family discussions about the need for a royal heir, his eldest brother had left a string of broken hearts behind him and burned bridges with a number of aristocratic families around the continent.
He had an insatiable taste for models and actresses and no intention of settling down, especially not with whatever eligible patrician his mother hand-selected for him.
“At least she’s left you to your own devices in that department,” Sal said.
Leo grunted. It was true. In fact, she rarely seemed to remember that Leo existed at all.
“You want me to set something up?” Sal asked.
“Sure, because that worked out so well last time.”
“In my defense, I did not know Renee had a penchant for petty theft.”
“I don’t know if stealing an original Monet counts as petty theft.”
“Maybe it was an accident.”
Leo shot him a look.
“Art thieves aside,” Sal said, “I really wish you would find someone. Cal’s been on me about double-dating.”
“I’m sorry that my lack of dating life has been so difficult for you.”
Dating had never been easy for Leo. Even though he was an empty figurehead with no real power—doubly so since he was second in line to the throne—some women were entranced by his status as a royal.
It made it impossible to tell who was interested in him as a person and who was just hoping to become a member of the royal family.
The paparazzi that usually left him alone had been whipped into a frenzy when he started dating someone two years ago.
They hounded her until she left the country—and the relationship.
Since then, love had been on the back burner.
A low woof drew his attention to the sidewalk, where a striking woman was walking a Bernese mountain dog that was bigger than she was.
The hammer fell from his hand and clattered to the wooden boards. She jumped at the sound and turned, drawing the dog in closer.
A knot formed in his stomach. Why had she responded so strongly to an innocuous sound?
The woman surveyed the scene, then their eyes met over a mulled wine stand. She smiled sheepishly at him but didn’t curtsy. Interest flared. She didn’t recognize him. Or maybe she wasn’t a citizen. She definitely wasn’t someone he had seen around the village before.
There was a flush in her cheeks, but it was impossible to tell if it was from the cold or from embarrassment. She was short but must have been strong to control the dog. Her blonde hair was partially obscured by a black hat with a pompom.
The intrigue was instant. Magnetic.
But that was insane. He didn’t know her, and she probably didn’t want the attentions of some random guy. She could be married.
Oh, shit. She was about to walk into a light pole. He straightened up to warn her, but it was too late.
Thonk. Her head smacked the pole, and she fell to the ground.
Leo left everything and ran across the park, dodging a pretzel stand and skirting a field of fake trees.
He dropped to a knee beside her. “Are you all right?”
She was even lovelier up close. Her hair was long, straight, and the color of the wheat fields he ran through as a child. Her eyes were a striking shade of green.
“I’m fine,” she said.
Ah, American.
“Just incredibly mortified,” she added. She pressed a hand to her forehead and squinted with one eye.
“Can I get you some ice?” he asked.
She glanced around them. Snow was everywhere. Right, idiot.
“I’ll be fine,” she said warmly. She was talking fast. “Thank you for checking on me. Sorry to interrupt your—Cooper, no!”
The dog, who had been sniffing the edge of Leo’s jacket, had just lifted his leg. Leo’s arm grew warm.
She clambered to her feet and yanked the dog away.
“Oh my god. I’m so sorry. He’s never peed on anyone before.” Her fingers closed over the zipper on her black coat, which had a long rip that looked to be hand-stitched with red thread. “Here, take my coat.”
Leo laughed and shrugged out of his coat. The sun was shining, and he was sweaty from hammering boards anyway. “I’m fine. I don’t think we’re the same size.”
Now that they stood next to each other, he towered over her. She couldn’t have been much more than five feet tall.
Her eyebrows contracted. “You have a point. Well, I could buy you a new one or have it cleaned or—”
He raised one hand. “It’s okay. I promise.” He bent down until he was eye level with the dog. “Just try not to pee on anyone else, okay?”
The dog licked his cheek in response and looked thoroughly unashamed.
“I’m so sorry again. I—I’m going to go now,” she stammered, then darted down the street, dragging the dog after her.
Something stirred in him. His mouth opened, ready to call after her. But she was fast and disappeared around a corner before he could snap out of it.
He turned back to Sal, who was watching with arms crossed and one eyebrow cocked.
“What?” Leo called defensively.
“You’re seriously going to let her go?”
“I—” He turned to look again, even though he knew she was already gone. He was being insane. She clearly wasn’t local and wouldn’t be sticking around long. She was a tourist, not some divine intervention from the universe.
He went to take a step back to the park but hesitated.
It didn’t make sense to chase her down. It might even scare her. But why was it that every cell in his body was screaming for him to do it? It was the strangest feeling, like he recognized her even though he’d never seen her before.
He glanced back at Sal.
“Go, you plonker,” Sal called.
Without pausing to think of the consequences, Leo turned and jogged in the direction she had disappeared.
His steel-toe boots pounded the sidewalk as he scanned storefronts and side streets. A handful of citizens stopped in their tracks to bow, but she wasn’t among them. How could a woman and a human-sized dog hide so effectively?
Eventually, he pulled to a stop and trudged back toward the park with a heavy heart. He searched every face on the way back, but she really was gone. It was just as well. It wasn’t meant to be. He didn’t need the distraction, no matter what his gut was telling him.