Odin
(Yes, this is Lyra’s book but her big brother wanted his say!)
I smile as I open the door. “Come in.”
It’s an easy, welcoming smile, unlike the forced contortions of my mouth I use when pictures are taken of me, or during meetings, and at events that I really don’t want to be attending.
Or even when people stopped me on the street of Battle Harbour to happily inform me what the royal family was doing wrong and exactly what they should do about it.
People still stop me here in Saint Pierre, but I let Camille handle their complaints and suggestions.
She likes it that way.
I like that I’m able to open my own door without dealing with fences or security or a doorman.
Things are a lot more laid back here in Saint Pierre.
I keep a firm hand on Bea Arthur’s collar, as she strains forward, tongue out.
The long and lanky mutt has been known to knock over visitors in her eagerness to make friends.
Tucked behind my legs, Betty White growls menacingly—or as menacingly as one can be when she’s the size of a well-fed rat.
I scoop her up in my other arm and she curls her lip at me.
“Stop,” I caution both dogs. Camille usually locks them up when people first come over, but she’s been a little flustered about all of this.
Grayson Grant steps inside. The prefect house, which Camille inherited when she took over the position from her father, is situated in the very centre of the island of Saint Pierre.
While it may not be as welcoming as we’d like, Camille has been making changes, adding our own touches and personality, and removing some of her father’s old-fashioned décor and traditions, and it’s getting there.
I’m not sure if the dogs are helping. Betty White has a constant growl that vibrates her tiny body, giving Grayson the stink-eye as he offers the back of his hand as a peace offering.
He has more luck with Bea Arthur as her tongue makes contact and covers his outstretched hand with a fair bit of slobber.
“It’s good to see you, Odin,” Grayson says, discretely wiping his hand on his pants.
Grayson Grant has become the ultimate television personality.
Former baseball player, Suitor celebrity, and now host and executive producer of the reality dating show.
He’s the Jeff Probst of the Suitor franchise, with the innate ability to befriend contestants so they’ll confide in him, but managing to keep enough distance to ask the hard questions.
All with more variety in his wardrobe than the Survivor guy.
I can’t believe it’s been two years since my blink-and-you’ll-miss-it time on The Suitorette. Did I really think I could find a wife on a reality romance television show?
Maybe if I had been actually looking to fall in love, rather than focused on heading straight for death-do-us-part, I might have had better luck.
But I did have luck, because going on the show got me Camille. That’s really only the good thing about it.
That, and I made a friend.
Grayson has that “everyone likes him” quality that my brother Gunnar shares—friendly and approachable, with an abundance of charisma.
Camille says he’s got “rizz.”
I have no idea where she came up with that word, but it’s obvious she’s got a bit of a crush on Grayson.
I can’t blame her because I may have a tiny bit of a crush on him, too.
Even though he saw me through one of the most humiliating events of my life, I like to think we’re friends.
At least I think we’ve become friends.
I bring Grayson and his bags inside, and Camille meets us at the door to the kitchen.
She uses her office—formerly her father’s office, but since he’s living full-time in France, it’s all hers now—for meetings, but since this is Grayson’s third visit and he’s going to be staying here, she prefers the comfortable kitchen.
I love that she takes meetings in the kitchen. It’s something my father would do if the castle kitchen didn’t resemble something out of medieval times. It’s been on the list to be renovated for as long as I can remember.
I also love that Camille can return Grayson’s hug without her body locking up. She’s lost so much of her awkward aggression since taking over as prefect.
Since we fell in love.
“Ready to get settled in?” Camille asks Grayson, her red hair clashing with her bright yellow sweater in a way that’s both hard on the eyes and wonderful to see.
“Definitely.” Grayson grins at my wife. “You have no idea how grateful we are that you came to us with the suggestion, Camille. Me, especially,” he admits with a self-deprecating laugh.
“This is my first time around as executive producer, and I completely blanked at a location. Not a great way to start.”
“I think it’ll benefit everyone,” I say.
Saint Pierre, the tiny island nation off the coast of Newfoundland, Canada, will be the location for the next season of The Suitorette. Summer on the island is amazing, with the birds and the sun and the beach that spans more than half of the island.
And now, the world will see it.
When Camille took over from her father as prefect of Saint Pierre, she jumped in with both feet to bring out the best of the island.
It was her idea to offer Oceanview, the hotel on the west side of the island, as a location for the Suitor franchise.
Built by some French lord in the early nineteen hundreds, it had been turned into a hotel before World War II closed Saint Pierre to tourists.
The Oceanview limped into the twenty-first century, with a few prefects attempting renovations and rejuvenations, but it wasn’t until the last few years of Camille’s father’s rule that things actually started to get done.
It’s been restored to its former glory, but there was the issue of how do we get people to come to the island? Because more tourists would do a lot to jumpstart the economy.
This season, the contestants of The Suitorette will be staying at the Oceanview, and cameras will be showing the charm and beauty of Saint Pierre to the world.
Hopefully, this will help bring back the tourists.
Filming for the show starts in three days.
“I have to admit, I’ve never been much of a fan of the show,” Camille confesses as Grayson takes a seat at the table. “But since Odin…” She gives me a sly glance under her lashes.
“We don’t need to talk about Odin,” I decide as I pull out her chair. “This has nothing to do with me.”
“Oh, but we’ll need a cameo,” Grayson protests eagerly. “Both of you. How in a roundabout way, the show brought you together. Viewers will eat it up.”
I hum my consent, not that it’s up for negotiation. Camille has already decided we’ll be appearing on the show. Multiple times, if she has her way.
She may not be much of a fan of the show, but she’s recently discovered a love for the spotlight.
“When do the contestants show up?” Camille asks Grayson after I offer him a drink.
I also had no idea that she’d be so excited about twenty-five strangers who will be showing up on the island.
Twenty-five male strangers.
I’m not worried…
It’s like Camille can read my mind because she winks at me over the cheese platter. “I love how you’re doing the archetypes,” she tells Grayson.
“I wish I could take credit, but it’s Fiona’s idea,” Grayson explains as he helps himself to a cracker.
“She’s my wife’s best friend and the biggest romance reader of anyone I know.
She thought that it would be a fresh idea to have the typical characters from romance novels—the bad boy, the rock star, the athlete—”
“The boy next door, the cinnamon roll hero, the alpha male,” Camille finishes, to my surprise. I always see with her e-reader, but I thought she was looking at reports and emails.
“Exactly.” Grayson nods. “Fiona made me a list and I did my best to find as many as I could,” he says. “But we’ve had no luck with the brother’s best friend. I should have come to you to help with that.”
I meet Camille’s gaze, who is as confused as I am. “Why is that?” I ask slowly.
Grayson frowns. “We did keep this one low-key because of her status, but I thought you knew.”
A weight settles in the pit of my stomach, like an anchor thrown overboard. “No. We don’t know. And right now, I’m really not sure I want to.”
“Who will be the Suitorette?” Camille demands. “We never asked because we thought it was a secret.”
Grayson looks a little fearful. “I can’t believe she didn’t talk to you about it.”
She? “Please don’t tell me—”
“Princess Lyra is going to be the next Suitorette,” Grayson finishes. “Your sister. She’ll be here tomorrow to star in the show.”