4. Nick
Chapter four
Nick
T hese last few weeks have been a glorious whirlwind of travel, and it’s been the perfect antidote for my grief.
Away from my family and familiar surroundings, I can breathe easier because there aren’t reminders of my father everywhere I turn.
While he’s still on my mind, my thoughts ebb and flow on their own accord, allowing a more natural cadence to my sadness.
Johann, Bruno, and I first landed in fast-paced New York City. After a whirlwind week in the Big Apple, we drove to Boston. From there, we slowly worked our way down the Atlantic coast soaking in the bits of small-town Americana.
I've never traveled without an extensive, detailed itinerary that was planned months in advance, so this spontaneous, no reservations way of travel has been an invigorating, novel experience.
Two days ago, Johann and I checked into a resort in Saltside, North Carolina.
The oceanfront property is sprawling, featuring an expansive private beach, five-story hotel, and several private waterfront villas.
Unfortunately, we learned the downside of spontaneous travel when all the villas were booked, so we had to settle for sharing a hotel suite.
Today, we went out on a deep-sea fishing charter and then ate dinner at a local fish and chips place.
Mildly sunburned, moderately tipsy, and severely full of fried seafood, Johann and I are walking Bruno, meandering through the resort property, taking the same circuitous route near the beach that I took last night when Bruno tackled that woman.
That ethereal, half-dressed goddess of a woman.
I wonder if I subconsciously chose this route in hopes that I'd run into her again. I've only spoken a few words to her, but she's left an imprint on my mind.
Although I’m sure I’ve never met her before, there’s something familiar about her that keeps niggling me.
When we finish our loop around the beach, I gesture toward the outdoor tiki bar. "Fancy one more drink before calling it a night?"
Rolling his eyes, Johann reluctantly agrees.
The poor guy has been on my case to watch my behavior, but I don't make it easy for him.
Johann's worried about the potential consequences if someone recognizes me. Getting pissed in a pub isn’t the image the royal family wants to project, and Johann's all too aware that some of the blowback could fall onto him since it's his job to keep me out of trouble.
We grab seats at a table in the rear of the bar and Bruno dutifully sits at my feet.
After Johann returns to the table with our beers, Bruno stands suddenly, letting loose a loud, pitiful whine.
When his tail starts wagging and he strains on his leash, my gaze darts up to see what, or rather who, is causing this reaction.
I chuckle when I see the same woman from yesterday. How fortuitous. My eyes lock with hers. I raise an eyebrow, unable to resist the smile tugging on my lips.
Quickly, I hiss, "Johann, it's the same woman I ran into last night. "
"Oh, for fuck's sake," he mutters. "Only you, the Royal Romeo, could be left alone for half an hour and manage to run into a naked woman on the beach."
"Shut up, they're coming this way."
Rising from my seat as she and her friend approach our table, I remark, "So, we meet again."
"Indeed, we do," she replies with a wry smile, her cheeks darkening. Ducking her head, she leans down to scratch Bruno's ears. He thumps his tail enthusiastically, nuzzling his head against her legs.
This woman has somehow managed to turn my one-hundred-pound protective guard dog into a giant, lovable blob of fur and slobber.
Over her head, Johann catches my eye, perplexed. I shrug. I can't explain it, but each time Bruno encounters her, all his training flies out the window.
"Consider yourself lucky because he's not easily impressed."
She smiles up at me sweetly. "He just likes me, I guess." When she continues petting Bruno, his head lolls to the side as a look of happiness washes over him.
While she's distracted by Bruno, I allow my eyes to rove over her body. Dear God, her curves are amazing. So many women nowadays are stick-thin with no curves to be had, but this woman has just the right amount of softness to her body, giving her that alluring hourglass silhouette.
"He's not the only one," I murmur, the truth slipping out before I can stop it. "Care to join us?"
"We'd love to," her friend replies for her. "I'm Maggie, by the way."
After Johann and I introduce ourselves, I turn to the brunette, expectantly.
Taking a deep breath, she holds out her hand to me, “I’m Willa. It’s a pleasure to officially meet you, Nick.”
As soon as she says her first name, it clicks. She’s Willa Radford. America’s movie star sweetheart.
My eyes widen in disbelief. I can’t wait to tell my brother that I met Willa Radford. For most of his uni years, Alex had a poster of Willa on his dormitory wall.
I'm an idiot for not recognizing her, even though Willa looks different than she does in the movies. With her sensual brand of beauty, striking auburn hair color, and seductive body, she usually plays the bombshell vixen or the romantic lead. But the woman standing in front of me, in her sundress and long brown hair, looks more like the girl-next-door than a Hollywood starlet. Regardless, she’s stunning.
“The pleasure is all mine, I assure you.” Stifling an incredulous laugh, I hold out my hand, motioning for Willa and Maggie to take the open seats at our table.
Maggie drops into the seat next to Johann, and Willa gracefully slides down next to me.
She sits primly, with her hands folded in her lap, her knees together, and her ankles crossed. It’s a strange thing for me to note, the way she sits, but after years of etiquette classes and countless lectures on proper decorum, it’s the exact sort of thing that I now notice.
Willa is polite and poised, and unlike any other celebrity or socialite I’ve met before. Most crave the spotlight, eager to have all eyes on them, but Willa seems to shy away from it.
Or maybe, like me, she's simply enjoying her anonymity.
“Allow me to get you a drink. What’s your poison, ladies?”
When I return with their drinks, Willa, Maggie, Johann, and Bruno are standing. “We’re going to move the party onto the beach. That okay with you, Nick?” Johann inquires.
“Up for another round of truth or dare, ladies?” I remark, meeting Willa’s embarrassed eyes and Maggie’s shameless ones.
“Ugh, I'll never live that down,” Willa mutters, shielding her face with her hands.
I nudge Willa’s shoulder gently with my own. “Only teasing. I’m sure it will be easier for you to relax on the beach away from prying eyes, correct?”
Willa nods. “Exactly. Thank you for understanding.”
I understand more than she knows. In Europe, I can’t go anywhere without getting swarmed and hounded by people and the paparazzi.
While Americans are obsessed with the British monarchy, they know next to nothing about the smaller European monarchies.
Not one person in America has recognized me.
Much to Johann's dismay, I have abused the power of anonymity while I’ve been in the States by doing things that I could never get away with doing at home.
This taste of liberation is glorious, even if it will be short-lived.
Knowing that there's an expiration date on my freedom has me feeling reckless.
I want to live life on the edge and experience as much as I can while I can.
Maybe I should add have a secret fling with a Hollywood actress onto my bucket list.
Johann and Maggie lead the way from the bar's stone path to the secluded beach while Willa, Bruno, and I trail behind them.
We settle onto the beach, sitting next to one another, with Bruno lying at Willa's side as she strokes his thick fur.
Maggie and Johann sit on a patch of sand farther away from us.
Over the wind and the crashing waves, I hear only bits of their conversation, punctuated with an occasional laugh .
"You know, Bruno," the beast's eyes pop open when he hears his name, "is a trained guard dog. Yet, every time he encounters you, he acts like a wayward puppy. What's your secret, Willa?"
Willa giggles and makes a zipping motion across her lips.
Narrowing my eyes, I study her. I really am curious why Bruno has ignored his training and befriended a stranger. Then, I have an idea. "Truth or dare, Willa?"
A delighted smile flits across her lips as her eyes flare. "Oh, no! There will be no skinny-dipping dares tonight. You're not getting me naked that easily, mister!"
"That easily, huh? So, that's something I'll have to work a little harder for," I surmise flirtatiously, thoroughly enjoying watching Willa flounder for a response. But I take pity on her and promise, "No dares that require nudity tonight. Scout's honor."
She eyes me skeptically. "I very much doubt you were a boy scout, Nick." She's correct in her assumption, but I don't confirm it. After a few moments, she huffs, "Fine. Truth."
"Why does Bruno like you so much? It's not normal."
Feigning outrage, she presses her hand to her chest, "Are you suggesting that I'm unlikeable?"
I reach out and brush a lock of her hair from her face, allowing my fingers to linger on the soft skin of her cheek. "Not at all. In fact, I find you very likeable, but that being said, my dog is trained not to like people. Yet, he likes you."
"So, you want to know my secret?" When I nod, she continues, "I've been volunteering at the local animal shelter, and I keep dog treats in my pockets. I slip Bruno treats when you aren’t looking."
"That's bloody cheating," I exclaim.
She beams at me and shrugs unapologetically. It's adoringly impish and it makes me like her even more .
"Your turn, Nick. Truth or dare?"
"Truth."
She casts her eyes downward before flicking them up to meet my stare. "What did you think of me the first time you saw me?"
"That I wanted to see you again," I reply without hesitation.
She's been running rampant through my thoughts since I encountered her at the coffee shop yesterday morning. What I noticed first was that she noticed me. I'm used to people recognizing me. However, when she stared at me, I realized belatedly that it wasn't a spark of recognition.
Rather, it was a spark of attraction. And that attraction is definitely mutual.
When I saw her last night, bathed in moonlight and nearly naked, I knew there would be no chasing her from my mind.
Her light brown hair was loose, a little wild and windswept from the sea air.
Her delicate features were beautiful—high cheekbones, pert nose, luscious bee-stung lips, and her enormous, emotive eyes.
My gaze drifted from her face to her positively sinful body, reminiscent of the women immortalized in paintings from a bygone era.
Soft, seductive, and utterly captivating.
My confession surprises her. "But why?" Dumbstruck, she stares at me.
It's shocking to me that Willa doesn't realize how incredibly attractive she is.
Surely, she feels this tension that exists between us, too?
I can't be the only one who feels it. "Putting aside our physical chemistry, after our interactions yesterday, you left me wanting more. You’re…memorable and intriguing.”
Sardonically, she ripostes, "Memorable is one way of putting it."
"One of our interactions was slightly more memorable than the other." When yet another riotous pink sweeps over her face, I stroke her cheek with the back of my knuckle lightly. "I do enjoy making you blush."
My admission, of course, only deepens the color on her cheeks as she nibbles her bottom lip. With my thumb, I tug on her lip, releasing it from her teeth.
God, she’s fucking beautiful .
"So, Willa, truth or dare?"
"Truth," she mumbles. "I haven't drunk nearly enough for a dare yet."
"Have you thought of me at all?"
"Yes," she admits, her voice so quiet that it's difficult to hear over the waves. "I have."
“Good.”