7. It’s Raining Princes
IT’S RAINING PRINCES
LARS
“ I can rig yours up later,” I said. “Jack, knowing you—at your age—I can give you my laptop, and you’ll figure it out in ten minutes.”
“Well, then cough it up!” Jack held her hands out.
I rolled my eyes. “It’s government property. You’re not using it without supervision.”
“Government, government, what do you do, Lars?”
I chuckled. “What they tell me to.”
“Who are they ? The voices?”
“Yes, of my aunt and uncle,” I laughed. “Whatever His Majesty says, we do. We can work on it later, okay? I must figure out what I am doing with Rose’s ship.”
“Can I come with?”
I wanted to tell Jacqueline yes. Instead, I felt it was a no. I just needed a minute for adult conversation.
“No.”
“We’ll do something,” Christian said. “You can stay with us. Let Lars go. He has things to do.”
I did. I packed a supply bag in the smaller of our two tenders and rode to port. I had the number of Rose’s slip, but I didn’t need it. I knew which cruiser was hers instantly. It was the only craft sporting the Scottish flag and the only one with a wooden hull for a mile. Rose was aboard, sitting under the sunshade, reading a book, splayed on her stomach, and kicking her feet behind her. She was still in her swimsuit. I called to her.
“You up for a visitor?”
She scrambled, finally looking down. “Oh, you made it here. Sorry, I thought it would take longer. I… I’m going to go put on some shorts.”
“Oh, it’s not a big deal,” I said.
“No, give me just a sec,” Rose allowed me aboard before racing below deck.
I sat my bag down and stared at the mountain of Christmas lights she’d assembled there, along with an entire bundle of wire she’d begun looping into something. I soon realised it said “Happy Christmas!” with a candy cane following. I chuckled. The girl was Christmas-obsessed, wasn’t she? I’d blame her enthusiasm on her American mother.
“Okay. I am a little more dressed.”
She was slightly more covered—shorts covering only the bottom half of her. The bikini top wasn’t what I’d call dressed , but I would neither complain nor mention it. I didn’t figure a straight man alive could complain about the parts of Rose left exposed.
“Great. I got everything I think we need. I could get madder if I had more time and equipment, but I did my best. I recommend you keep things simple. Do you have a computer?”
“I have my laptop,” Rose said.
“If you get it, we can install the software. You’ve got internet, right?”
“Nah. No on this old thing. But I have a hotspot.”
Thankfully, the download wasn’t too big. It would do.
“Cool.”
I set up Rose’s laptop, downloading the software while we wrapped the mast in lights. It was far more than she could have done alone—a lot even for the two of us. Decorating a fifty- or sixty-foot cruising yacht was no joke. We’d have Jack’s little sailboat complete in an hour yesterday after her race.
“Can we just drop the alternating lights from there?” Rose called.
“Yeah,” I answered. “I think so. That will look good. Toss me the end of a line of them.”
She tossed the first string of gold lights, which took about four passes. She wasn’t all that tall.
“Sorry. I suck.”
“It’s okay. I’ll forgive you. You’re too short to make quick work of it.”
“We should have made my brothers do this.”
“Nah, we’ve got it. I’d lie if I said it didn’t make me salty that Mor has people climbing all over decorating their catamaran this morning. It’s ridiculous.”
Rose snickered. “More fun to DIY, though.”
“It’s going to look great. The work you’ll have to do is play with light cues based on the music. You can finish that this evening.”
I wiped the sweat from my brow and tied down a string of red lights with the copious amount of zip ties Rose purchased. At least she was prepared. I appreciated her foresight. I didn’t know Rose well, but I did know she was practical like her oldest brother, Mac. Niall was a bit off the wall. Iona, her oldest sister, was uptight and challenging at times. Only a few years Rose’s senior, Frankie, was a wild laugh. She was the artist—in her father’s mould. Rose’s parents were an unlikely power couple, but her mother ruled the roost—practical and organised to a fault. Rose was a ginger carbon copy.
We finished the light strings, and I climbed down.
“How does all of this work? And how do you know how it works?” Rose asked.
“This is fun for me,” I said. “A puzzle. But a simple one. I never get to use my brain these days.”
It was easy to assemble a board for these lights, but still enjoyable. It was ages since I programmed anything.
“I understand what you’re saying. I feel like that anytime I need to crunch numbers.”
“What did you study at uni?” I asked.
“Accountancy,” she said. “Very sexy.”
I laughed. “Accountants can be sexy, right?”
“You’re kind, Lars. I have yet to meet a man who agrees with you.”
“Brain power should be sexy,” I said. “Callan didn’t get it?”
“Not really. And you’re probably wondering, why even bother with him?”
I shrugged. “You don’t owe me an explanation.”
Rose bent over, flipping her bright red hair and gathering it into a ponytail. She came back up. I tried hard to ignore the fabulous shot of her cleavage visible as she stood upright. I didn’t have “leering at my friend’s little sister” on my bingo card for this week. I tried to behave.
“Sorry. It’s bloody hot,” Rose said. “Uh. He was fit, had a jaw that could make you die a little, and was fabulous in bed. So, maybe he didn’t get me well enough and wasn’t particularly clever, but he made up for it in other ways. God, that sounds so shallow!”
“If you were a man, no one would judge you, Rosalind. Promise. They’d say you could only have two out of three things—sexy, sane, and smart. You must choose two. I am sure it is the same for men.”
“Well, I am not sure about the sane now. He’s blown up my phone since he cut me off. He cheated—I don’t know the extent and don’t need to know it to realise I deserve better. The grovel, though…”
Rose rolled her eyes and shook her head.
“You’re the one that got away now.”
“I’m the one his parents wanted him to end up with. There’s a difference. It only makes me want to smack him upside the head more. I’m very marriageable, and his mother adored me.”
“Marriageable? Rose, it is not 1815.”
“I know, right? But you know how it is.”
“I don’t. In Norway… things are different. No one expects me to settle and pop out babies. That’d be unfair.”
Rose nervously kicked at the deck as if testing it.
“Well, you all are men—we had this bumper crop of lads. You, my brothers, all your stepbrothers. It’s like the world is raining princes or something. Yet, no one is riding your arse demanding you do it. Amazing, really. If I had a dick, my life would be much simpler. Fuck, I’m starting to sound like your aunt.”
“Aunt Natalie would agree, yes, but I’d argue she—along with my other aunt—does just fine as queen. And your mother is a total badass. The world is a misogynist shithole at times. I don’t blame your righteous indignation. I hate it for you. Moreover, the fact that it requires me to pretend to date you to throw Callan off your trail is infuriating.”
“We can fake break up. I promise you that you owe me nothing. I’m cockblocking you?—”
I cut her off, “No. It’s fine. I do not want to date anyone here. This is not my scene. Believe it or not, I’d much prefer someone down-to-earth. I don’t prefer daughters of aristocrats.”
“We’re not all bad,” Rose laughed. “You forget I am the daughter of a duke, and you’re ‘dating’ me.”
She used very excited finger quotes.
“And the daughter of the former Lady Chamberlain and all-around ass-kicker,” I added. “You’re a formidable woman.”
She smiled. “Thanks. But if you want out?—”
“Nah. I’m stuck chasing Jack. You gave me an out for some adult conversation. I love that kid. She’s amazing, but she’s still so…”
I looked for the word.
“Angsty, moody teen? Yeah, we all go through it. From what I remember, you were quite the brooding teen.”
I snickered. “You were a baby; how do you know?”
“I dunno. I could tell. And you’re not that much older. You’ve only got what? Eight years on me. Stop acting like you’re ancient or I’m a child, Lars.”