Picking up her pace, she swallowed her doubt. It was time. To go back to Kiraly—to do what she’d once dared herself to do. Prove her worth. Find her value. If she focused on that, she might be able to ignore the bleakness rippling like an oil spill inside her at the thought of returning home.
If only she’d gone back years ago. She’d achieved what she’d set out to do the moment she found the princes hidden in this mountain-ringed valley. She shouldn’t have agreed to Philip’s suggestion that she stay and keep watch on them—she shouldn’t have allowed herself to get attached.
But she hadn’t planned on volatile, sexy-as-hell Kris.
No. Not Kris. Not anymore.
Prince Kristof.
She hadn’t braced for his tameless charm, wicked grin, and fast friendship. For her untrained heart to open for him. A truth she’d never told him—just as he’d never trusted her enough to share his royal heritage. For years she’d pretended she didn’t know. She’d waited, desperate for that sign she meant more to him than the rest of the clueless people in this town—more than the women he charmed into his bed. For years, Frankie had waited to share her own identity in return.
Trust me, her heart begged whenever his blue eyes darkened with the desire he’d never quite acted on. Tell me.
Now it was too late.
If he told her today, it wouldn’t be out of trust. The situation had him cornered. It would pry the secret out of his big, rough hands with little care of what it meant to her.
Shame bled into her hurt. Her secrets would air with his, though he’d call them by a dirtier name.
Lies.
She couldn’t handle that pain. Not today. Breaking into a run, she hurled that future confrontation from her mind.
“I accept,” she answered. Because despite the unbearable strain it would cause between her and Kris, despite her fear and guilt and shortcomings, there was one thing the past four years had taught her. “I’ll protect these men with my life.”
Kris Jaroka should have seen it coming.
No lie lasts forever.
He rolled his farm truck to a halt in front of Rose’s Diner and pulled the keys, twirling them around his index finger as he stepped out. A casual act to fool his gut into relaxing and his heart into slowing down, because he’d spent all morning fixating on this moment and had yet to imagine how it could end well.
Didn’t matter.
He was going to ask her anyway.
Frankie. She was back in town. When not away on an investigative case, she lived in the main street of Sage Haven, renting a hidey-hole above the worst coffee-brewer in Montana. She didn’t seem to care that her apartment wallpaper puckered and tore or that the bathroom tiles were stained with he-didn’t-want-to-know-what. As long as there was coffee and food within reach, irrespective of quality, all was good for Frankie.
He strode into the diner and nodded to the man behind the counter. A curtain blocked a staircase to the left of the register, and Kris slipped around it, taking the steps three at a time. Only two apartments were up here—the diner owner’s and Frankie’s—and naturally, hers was the one with scuff marks on the door, an apple sticker on the knob, and an old piece of paper taped beside it, reading: Not the restroom. Turn around, asshole.
Nerves thundered through him. He slid a hand into the back pocket of his jeans, taking in his last breath as the cowboy she’d believed him to be.
He knocked.
“I’m busy!” Frankie snapped from inside.
From her, that was close enough to permission to enter.
He stepped into the tiny studio apartment, which was nothing more than a cramped living space with a double bed down the far end. An empty takeout box sat open on the kitchen counter, a scrunched napkin beside it.
“Morning,” he said, kicking the door closed with his boot heel.
She didn’t look up from where she stood side-on at the foot of the bed, stuffing a jewel-bright jacket into her backpack. A small blessing, because all it took was the sight of her to nudge his lust awake like a toe prodding a dozing beast. Stirring, it focused lazily on her—then stretched wide with feral intent.
Blood hot, Kris moved in and set his keys down, leaning a hip casually against the counter.
It was getting worse. Harder to pretend their friendship was innocent, because desire had him craving her in every way imaginable. Ways he had yet to imagine. It was a mutual attraction he