Chapter Two

A week later, after yet another failed would-be prince interview, Harper walked down the long hall past the rows of employees dressed in fairy-tale clothing. Each of them regarded her with hope-filled expressions.

They were preparing to begin the evening’s rehearsal, but without a lead, the show was not going to go on and she had to break the news to them. Though disappointed, they took it well, but she recognized the meaning behind the glances they shared among themselves. They were worried about their future employment, and frankly, she was, too. A few more weeks without a prince and this castle was going belly up.

She had to do something. Thrills & Chills, a new amusement park, had opened on the opposite side of Morganville, and while they had a bigger budget and better rides from the rumors she’d heard, they didn’t have any live shows. Which was the main draw for her family’s business. But if the show was canceled, she couldn’t keep the wolf away from the door much longer.

Without the show… Harper swallowed at the thought and slipped past the arched wooden door into the throne room. She swung her gaze from the red carpet runner to the flag banners hanging from the ceiling. This room was one of her favorites because of all the historical replicas it held. Her heart squeezed thinking about the memories she’d made here, about what the place meant to her.

Right after Harper turned eight, the father who’d abandoned her had died on one of his life-risking adventures, and her mother had taken the money from his life insurance policy to buy the foreclosed castle.

Her mom had worked hard to restore the place and the grounds, and so had Harper after school and on weekends. After high school and then college, she’d scheduled her sporadic dates on nights that didn’t interfere with the never-ending to-do list at the castle.

Now that her mom was out of town on that much-needed break, Harper was going to ruin in a matter of weeks what they’d spent years building. Her mom had sounded so much happier and more relaxed on last night’s phone call. That wouldn’t continue if she didn’t find a man to do the show…

She took a calming breath. No. That’s not happening. Whatever it takes, I won’t let Thrills & Chills run us out of business.

Spinning on her heel, she hurried to her office in the castle’s east wing. As soon as she sat behind the desk, her assistant and friend, Ivy Sanchez, walked in. They’d known each other since elementary school, and through years of sleepovers, boy crush discussions, exam cramming, fun times and bad ones, Harper considered her the sister she’d never had.

“Okay.” Ivy dropped a tote bag on the floor. “I handled the dispute between the cotton candy stand operator and the snow cone guy.”

“Thanks,” Harper said. The last thing she wanted to deal with today were arguments between employees. As if she didn’t have enough headaches. All of the shields used in the jousting tournament for the medieval games had been misplaced, and one set of the spectator bleachers needed repairs according to the handyman.

Ivy flicked her long black hair over her shoulder and flopped down in the chair across from Harper, fanning her slightly red face with a pink sheet of paper. “There’s a lot of tension in the ranks. Some of them are saying that the business could go under without the show. They’re worried. Restless.”

“I know. To be honest, I’m worried, too,” Harper admitted. “Our show brings in the most revenue, and we need that to continue to dig our way out of the financial mess.” She loved her mother dearly, but she’d been ignoring bills, as Harper had discovered, and that had compounded the problem.

Ivy rubbed her hands together. “So what do we need to do to make the show happen?”

Harper pushed at a pile of employment applications. “We need a prince fast, but none of the men who answered the ad were suitable.” She tapped a pen against the desk calendar, and her interest was caught by the paper Ivy fanned herself with. “What is that?”

“I found it stuck under my windshield wiper when I came out of the coffee shop.” Ivy smoothed the paper between them. “It’s a call for open auditions at the community theater.”

“Open auditions,” Harper murmured then snapped her fingers. “That’s it! I’ll hold auditions for a lead. I’ll post flyers all over town. Surely there’s a handsome prince out there somewhere.”

“That’s a great idea. You might even have better luck doing that than running an ad in the Morganville Gazette.” Ivy leaned forward with a wicked smile on her face. “I want to be with you when you hold the auditions. You need help picking out the man candy, and I do like my…sweets.”

Harper laughed and, taking a sheet of typing paper from the printer, quickly sketched out what she wanted on the flyer. When she was done, she held it up for Ivy to inspect.

“Nice. Love the little hearts you drew above the prince caricature.”

“Too much?”

“No. Perfect.”

Taking her at her word, Harper decided she’d run with it. She patted the pockets of her shorts for the van keys then, remembering where they were, she stood to get her purse. “I’m going to the print shop. Can you take care of things while I’m gone?”

“Not a problem.”

“Need anything from town?” Harper offered.

“Bring me back one of the unmarried Bradford brothers.”

Harper stopped in her tracks. “You have a thing for…which one?” Not that it mattered, she supposed. Rafferty was as slippery as lotion on a doorknob when it came to relationships, and after Grayson Bradford’s girlfriend had cheated on him, he had no interest, either.

“Definitely Grayson. What I wouldn’t give to see that man in his birthday suit. I’d even settle for his swim trunks.” She went on singing Grayson’s physical praises, but Harper wasn’t listening.

Swimming made her think of the hottest summer day on record last year when she’d swung by Rafferty’s sister Casey’s house to see if she wanted to catch a movie. Rafferty had walked into the house, suntanned and muscular in nothing but a pair of board shorts after a day of water skiing at the lake.

She cleared her throat, wishing she could clear the image as easily, and tuned back in to what Ivy was saying.

“Are Rafferty’s mom and grandmother still hinting that the two of you should be together?”

Harper nodded. “They both have such amazing hearts and mean well. I guess maybe they don’t realize or don’t want to realize that Rafferty isn’t ever going to get serious about anyone. Anyway, I need to get the flyers done.”

She left the office before Ivy could say more. Discussing Rafferty made her heart squeeze a little painfully. She could never do what their families had pushed for and fall for Rafferty. Her mama hadn’t raised a stupid woman, and that’s what she’d be if she joined the ranks of the Rabid for Rafferty, as she’d dubbed his legion of admirers.

All she’d wanted from him was friendship, and look how well that had turned out. She was thankful she’d never fallen in love with him. The pain over losing the friendship had been bad enough. She couldn’t imagine what it would have been like had she loved him.

She made the long trek out across the parking lot to the amusement park’s brilliant pink minivan. The sign wrap on the side of the van told the world it was the princess coach for Fairy Tales. Harper used to cringe at the color and the giant plastic tiara on the roof, but it had proven to be good advertising. She climbed in, muttering to herself. “Me and Rafferty Bradford. What a joke.”

On the way to the printer, she turned on the radio, and when one of her favorite songs came on, a slow ballad about loving a small town guy, she sang along.

The drive to the center of town was her favorite. There were long stretches of road where nothing but trees lined either side. Dozens of yellow butterflies flitted around picket fences separating a handful of farms. Her sixteenth summer, she’d worked on one of those farms to make some extra money to help with the expenses at the castle. She’d leave work at the castle and head to the farm and work until sundown. When those twelve weeks were done, and she handed over an envelope filled with her paycheck earnings, her mama had cried.

While it was true that small-town life didn’t have everything that big-city living did, like no big chain grocery stores or malls, Harper didn’t care. It had close family ties, heart-felt celebrations all year long, and neighbors you could turn to when you needed something.

She’d been born in Morganville and hoped to raise her own family here someday. She loved every back road, the slow pace, and the way people here knew that offering a pitcher of sweet tea, a platter of fried chicken, and an apple pie was the best way to welcome new folks moving to town.

As the song wound down, she noticed a sedan with the hood raised on the side of the road. Automatically slowing to help, she recognized Rafferty’s grandmother, Jean. She pulled over onto the grass ahead of the car.

She’d known the eighty-six-year-old woman for years and loved her like she loved her late grandmother. Harper got out and walked up to her. “Looks like you need some help.”

“Your intuition astounds me, Sherlock.”

Used to Jean’s biting sense of humor, Harper didn’t take offense. Instead, she grinned. “I’m thinking of opening a business solving mysteries.” She nodded toward the car. “What’s wrong with it?”

“Beats me, but standing out here in the heat, I’ve already sweated off my makeup and most of my fake parts.”

“And yet you look better than ever.”

Jean snorted. “Takes a lot of plastic to look as real as I do.”

Harper laughed. “Well, c’mon. I’ll give you a ride. Did you cut your hair?”

Jean patted her hairdo. “Got it done at Clip & Curl. That gal they hired last week offered to give me a buzz cut because it’s ‘easier for old people to take care of.’”

“Oh no,” Harper said. She could imagine how well that went over.

“I said only if I could buzz her hair first.” Jean opened the passenger door of the mini-van. “Then the owner came over to my chair and said to excuse the gal, that she was…” Jean lowered her voice like what she was about to reveal was a crying shame. “Brand spanking new to the south. Bless her heart.”

“Ah.” Harper got in and cranked up the air to help cool the older woman off. “Where can I drop you off?”

“I was on my way to the diner for lunch. Why don’t you join me?”

Tempted, Harper debated with herself. “I shouldn’t. I have to get some flyers made up. I’m looking for a Prince Charming.”

“Honey, aren’t we all?” Jean adjusted the vent to let the air blow in her face. “Get the flyers done after lunch, and we’ll help you pass them out.”

“We?”

“Casey’s meeting me.” Jean patted her oversize purse. “She’s going to help go through these prictures.”

“You mean pictures?”

Jean shook her head. “Prictures are those photographs of your exes who are jerks.”

Harper snort-laughed. “I’ve got a handful of prictures myself.”

“Your ex was lower than a snake’s belly in a wagon rut. You didn’t deserve the way that cheating rat treated you. Come on and join us. You know it’ll be fun.”

Harper thought for a second. She shouldn’t spare the time for lunch, but Casey and Jean were good friends, and the three of them always did have fun together. She could enjoy some girl time and still have plenty of time to put up the flyers if her friends lent a hand. “You know what? I think lunch sounds great.”

“Good. I’m going to have a spicy burger and for dessert some of that good-looking waiter.”

“I thought you were seeing Carl.” Harper paused at a four-way stop to let a few stroller-pushing tourists pass in the crosswalk. In their I heart Morganville T-shirts and carrying bags from the visitor’s center, they were easy to spot among the regulars.

“I was seeing Carl, but there’s no curing stupidity, so I had to let him go.”

Harper took a side street to avoid more tourists before pulling around in front of the diner. She wasn’t surprised to see it packed. The place was known for its delicious southern food. “How was he stupid?” she asked as she climbed out of the van and put her hand on her back. She needed to quit skipping her workouts. Since her mother had left, she’d been too busy to get to the gym, and her muscles weren’t happy about it.

She waited for Jean to join her on the sidewalk.

“I’ll tell you how he was stupid. He gave me an ultimatum. I gave him a good-bye,” Jean said as they walked through the diner’s open doorway. “A relationship doesn’t work when a man’s as useful as a steering wheel on a mule.”

“Preach it, Granny,” Rafferty said with a grin.

Harper’s attention moved past Jean to where Rafferty stood in the diner foyer. He wore another blue T-shirt, but this one had the station logo on the left pocket. His hair was wind tousled, and there was a faint grease streak on his sinewy forearm that she itched to wipe off. She curled her fingers into the palm of her hands until her nails dug in. If she did wipe that streak off, he’d probably make a comment that she couldn’t keep her hands to herself.

Mustn’t touch and feed that ego.

Jean poked her finger into her grandson’s ribs as he drew her into a side hug. “Don’t call me Granny, punk.” She pulled back from the hug and tilted her head up to look at him. “My car broke down. It’s on the side of Overbrook Road.”

“Grayson’s off today. I’ll call and get him to take care of it,” Rafferty promised.

Above Jean’s head, his gaze locked with Harper’s, and his grin faded. He nodded. “Harper.”

She nodded in return and didn’t say anything else.

Jean turned her head back and forth between them, and a sly smile crossed her face. “Rafferty, why don’t you join us?”

He shook his head. “Can’t. I’m grabbing lunch for the crew.”

Relieved she wouldn’t have to sit with him and pretend to enjoy food that would taste like sawdust under his gaze, Harper said in a not-sorry voice, “That’s too bad.”

As if he’d picked up on her sarcasm, Rafferty narrowed his eyes. “There are napkins in the dispenser if you need to cry over missing my company.”

Harper put her hand over her chest, giving him a beauty pageant smile. “No need. I’m sure I’ll get over the disappointment. Like by the time I walk to the booth.”

His gaze dropped to her legs, and Harper silently cursed the heat flooding her face. Damn her fair skin.

Jean smacked Rafferty’s arm. “Play nice.”

“I’ve tried, but Harper doesn’t like it nice.”

Jean laughed and moved away from them toward a table a waitress cleared.

“Don’t do that,” Harper demanded in a low voice. “Don’t hint that you and I…” She clutched her purse strap tighter as wild images danced in her head. She mentally booted them and forced herself to continue. “That you and I were intimate.”

“I wasn’t referring to that, but I’m not surprised that’s where your mind went.”

“I thought I made it clear that I do not want you in any capacity.”

He had the nerve to tap the end of her nose. “I’d believe you, except you haven’t stopped sneaking glances at my mouth since you walked in. If you want a taste, all you have to do is ask.”

Harper gasped and jerked her gaze to his eyes.

A waitress came around the counter with a bag of food for Rafferty, and Harper thought the woman would surely slip in the flood of drool she trailed behind her. The waitress spoke to Rafferty with a breathless voice and a side of wide please-take-me-home-with-you eyes.

What in the world made women lose their minds over this man? It was a disgrace. Couldn’t they see past his movie star handsome face and rock-hard body to the me-man beneath? She didn’t doubt Rafferty’s life was one big round of me-me-me.

She wanted to shake some sense into the woman and tell her to get a grip and go find a man who didn’t run from a relationship like Rafferty would, as if he was being chased by a horde of would-be brides and a preacher.

After the waitress walked away, Rafferty winked at Harper, and it wasn’t just the wink that goaded her. It was that you-want-me-and-I-know-it expression. He shifted the bag of food to his other hand and said, “See you at the ball, Cinderella.”

“Bite me,” Harper snapped.

“Now how could any Prince Charming not fall for that sweetness?” Rafferty laughed at the words Harper uttered. “Your mama would wash your mouth out with soap. I didn’t know you had it in you to talk so dirty.”

Harper choked off another insult as he left the diner. She had to count to five before she could calmly walk past the other tables to reach Jean. She slid into the booth across from the other woman and took a menu from the stand even though she knew exactly what she was going to have. It was what she ordered every time. The turkey club. “Rafferty drives me crazy.”

“My grandson has that effect on people,” Jean said. She wiggled her eyebrows. “Maybe you just need to knock boots and get him out of your system.”

Harper dropped the menu like it was a bug. “The only boot I would knock with Rafferty would be upside his head. I don’t see why women are so eager to be with him. Besides,” she added hastily when the matchmaking gleam shone in Jean’s eyes, “I don’t need to get him out of my system. He’s not in there.”

“Rafferty’s a good man. You just don’t recognize that.” Jean held up her hand and waved Casey over when she walked into the diner.

Casey wore a cute blue sundress and had on that blissed-out-in-love expression she’d worn since marrying Kent. Harper was glad for her friend but admitted to herself that she had a little bit of when’s-it-my-turn envy. She couldn’t seem to find a good man for herself while her friends were finding them left and right.

After Casey sat down beside the older woman, Jean said, “Tell Harper the bet we have going.”

Casey sent her an apologetic look. “I told them not to, but Jean and Mom are betting that Rafferty will be the next Bradford to get married.”

“I can’t picture him married, but if it happens, I pity the bride.” Harper took a sip from her water glass. Rafferty’s wife would have to be a saint to put up with him.

“That’s the first part of the bet,” Jean said.

Misgivings stirred in the pit of Harper’s stomach as she set the water down and asked cautiously, “What’s the rest of it?”

“That the bride will be you.” Jean held her hands out in a ta-da flourish.

Harper made a strangled noise as all the words she wanted to say tripped over each other.

Casey waited for a second then added, “Jean, I think if Harper had wanted to get involved with Rafferty, she would have by now.”

Jean hmphed. “If she’d give him a chance, she’d see what makes him so lovable.”

“I’m sorry, Jean, but…how do I put this nicely?” Harper tapped the side of her chin. “Rafferty and I couldn’t even make our friendship work, and now, I’d rather lick the sidewalks clean than give him a chance.”

“You might think I’m partial because he’s my grandson, but he really is one of the best men in town,” Jean said. “Did you know when he was a kid he told his parents to take his Christmas gifts and give them to the poor kids who didn’t have anything?”

“I remember that.” Casey nodded, making a face. “Because he took some of my presents, too.”

Jean laughed. “And you were quite vocal about that.”

Casey nodded. “I cried, and Rafferty felt so bad that he went door to door offering to shovel snow, so he could earn the money to buy replacement gifts.”

Jean leaped on the bandwagon. “He helps out at the food pantry. He mentors in the after school program. He’s on the bone marrow registry. He and his brothers still do that thing every week where they repair homes for senior citizens and—”

“Jean.” Harper held her hand up to stop the flow of rah-rah Rafferty. “I’m not saying that maybe Rafferty doesn’t have some good qualities, but we simply don’t mesh well together. I have tried for your family’s sake to forgive the guy, and I just…can’t. I’m sorry.”

“There’s a spark between you two.” That sly grin was back on Jean’s lips.

“Mutual dislike rubbing together in the tension between us,” Harper said.

Jean made a “we’ll see” noise. “You never know what the future holds.”

“I’m still recovering from what my ex did,” Harper said, hoping it would end the find-a-man-for-her conversation.

“I’m so sorry you went through that,” Casey said then shared a look with Jean. “I was so mad that Trixie Majors spread it all over town about her ex’s cheating and then acted like it was Harper’s fault.”

“I’m not surprised Trixie did that.” Jean shook her head. “That gal is as likable as a sack full of farts.”

“Grandma,” Casey chided.

Unrepentant, Jean said, “Oh, don’t act like you haven’t thought the same thing.”

“The whole town was bound to hear it eventually,” Harper said. “I just wish I could find a good man like Casey or Josie did.”

Jean said, “Maybe Rafferty and you could at least—”

“No. Please.” Wanting to put an end to any crazy ideas the older woman might have, Harper added, “I know you have a history of matchmaking, but your talents are wasted trying to get Rafferty and me together. Trust me, that shoe will never fit this Cinderella.”

…

The plant was dead.

Rafferty knew he was in for the ribbing of his life the second he walked into the station to start his shift and spotted the brown stems hanging over the ceramic pot. His fellow firefighters waited for him, all wearing I-told-you-so expressions.

“Looks like Doug’s still in the running.” Lincoln plucked off one of the plant leaves and crumpled it. “Like I said. You can’t commit long enough to keep a plant alive.”

“All you had to do was water it,” Kent said.

“Look.” Rafferty pushed his sunglasses to the top of his head and started to explain.

Lincoln spoke over him. “You couldn’t water it, couldn’t pay it any attention?”

“Maybe if we would’ve put some lipstick on the leaves, he would have noticed it.” Kent puckered his lips and made kissing motions.

“Or a thong,” Lincoln said, making a show of pulling on a pretend pair.

That was the last bit of goading Rafferty could take. “So what? I’m not a plant person. A lot of people have trouble keeping a plant alive.”

“True.” Kent nodded, sweeping his hand around to indicate the collection of brown leaves on the floor around the table the plant was on. “But this was a challenge and one you failed. It proves our point that you can’t commit to anything.”

Lincoln grinned. “I think what happened with the plant is that Rafferty had good intentions of taking care of it, but on the way, he got lost between a brunette and a blonde.”

“The road to good intentions—” Kent began.

Rafferty wouldn’t let him finish. “You two keep right on smirking. I’ll be the one who gets that promotion and not Doug.”

Lincoln raised his eyebrows. “How?”

That stumped him. “I don’t know yet,” he admitted.

“I have an idea for how you can prove you can keep a commitment.” Kent walked over to the announcement board and pulled a pink flyer down. He waved it at Rafferty. “You think you can stick with something for three months?”

“Absolutely,” Rafferty said. He could go buy another plant. Start over again.

“Then here you go. The perfect opportunity.” Kent’s smile told Rafferty there was something on that piece of paper he wasn’t going to like.

He took it, reading with growing dismay. Audition for the part of Prince Charming for Harper’s fairy tale show?

“Harper’s looking for a replacement prince. It’s a three-month contract,” Kent said, reading aloud over Rafferty’s shoulder.

“One hundred dollars and no kitchen duty for two months says that you won’t be able to commit that long.” Lincoln tapped the paper as the other firefighters snickered.

“I want in on that bet.” Kent reached for his wallet.

A few of the other guys chimed in, all betting against Rafferty.

His pride was at stake here. Rafferty crumpled the flyer. “I could handle a gig like this in my sleep.” As long as he didn’t tell Harper the main reason he wanted to do it was to finance his adventures, he was sure he could convince her to let him try.

Mac, a firefighter he’d worked with for a few years now, said, “I believe him.” He pushed his way through the men and propped his foot up on a stool then rolled his pant leg up. “Prove it to them, handsome prince. Slip my boot on.”

Rafferty called him a name while everyone laughed. “You guys are jealous because the only part you’re suited to play are the stepsisters.”

Kent threw a towel at him, and Rafferty caught it. He twisted it and snapped it at Lincoln, who dodged the hit. “I’ll get the part of Prince Charming, and I’ll commit to it for three months. You’ll see. I’ll be the guy the chief picks in the end.”

“And I believe in little green men,” Lincoln said.

“You’re forgetting that you have to get Harper on board,” Kent pointed out.

“Piece of cake,” Rafferty said with a confidence that was part bravado, part stupidity because convincing the woman who didn’t like the sight of him anymore was going to be as easy as teaching sharks how to shoot pool.

The joking and questioning of Rafferty’s ability to commit went on until Lincoln clapped his hands to get everyone’s attention. “All right. We have a mock water rescue today, so let’s kick it in gear.”

Rafferty was glad training was on the schedule. It meant his mind would be busy focusing on the rescue steps rather than on convincing uptight Harper Bailey to let him be the prince.

Usually when she saw him, that smile disappeared faster than a snow cone in the middle of a heat wave. He couldn’t understand how women all over Morganville fought to go out with him even though they knew he’d never be serious with any of them, but Harper eyed him like he stood downwind from a cow pasture.

Yeah, it was going to be tough to get her on board after their botched friendship so he could prove he could be committed to something, but he’d do it.

Somehow.

…

He was still thinking along those same lines the next morning when his shift ended. After taking a quick shower and ignoring the kissing noises and the good-natured “Bye, Prince Charming” from the other firefighters, he left the station.

Driving along one of the curving back roads, he got behind an old tractor painted bright yellow that could only belong to Albert Hollings, one of the oldest farmers in the area. When the line divided, Albert motioned him around.

Rafferty passed with a wave, and after leaving the Morganville town limit, he made a right onto the road leading toward the castle.

After parking, he walked toward the front entrance where an employee manned the gate. Once he showed his ID, the guard waved him through. When Harper and her mom, Connie, had first started the business, there wasn’t a gate at the entrance of the three-acre property, but as its popularity had grown and tourists had begun flocking to the place, they’d been forced to install fencing for security purposes.

The tan brick structure was set in front of a small forest Connie had named Sherwood Forest. Every year, the first week of June, to coincide with the town’s annual barbecue festival, they held a jousting tournament and donated the entry fees to fund programs to benefit the town’s children.

He greeted several guys he recognized and then strolled across the bridge spanning the moat to the main door. When Harper’s mother had taken her husband’s life insurance money to buy and renovate the castle, half the people in town thought she was doomed to fail, but when the place proved to be a money maker and Connie’s endeavor brought scores of jobs in, the townspeople quickly got on board.

Stepping inside the castle, he pushed his sunglasses to the top of his head to allow his eyes time to adjust to the darker interior. He stopped a knight dressed for battle.

“Where can I find Harper?”

The knight slowly raised the visor. “Right here.” Harper raised her arms and, after a few seconds of tugging, pulled the helmet off and tucked it under one arm. Her hair was scraped back into a headband, and her face was devoid of makeup. If that lip-puckered I-ate-a-lemon look on her face was any indication, she was not thrilled to see him.

“I’m kind of busy. What do you need?”

He was right. Smiling his best aren’t-you-a-sight-for-sore eyes smile, he said, “Actually, I’m here because of what you need.” He felt a pang of conscience that he wasn’t going to tell her the real reason he was here, but he squashed it.

Her eyebrows arched. “Name one thing I need.”

He bowed with a flourish. “Me.”