Hard Tackle: A Bad Boy Sports Romance (23 page)

T
here was
nothing like serving coffee all day to bring a princess down to earth.

“God damn it,” I cursed, as the cappuccino machine spluttered and sprayed boiling hot water all over my hands. The machine should have been thrown out years ago.

“I don’t know why you’re even here,” Ellie said, as she grabbed me by the wrist and shoved my hand under cold running water. “You’re going to be rich soon. This is no place for the fiancée of a prince.”

“Keep your voice down,” I whispered.

Every woman in the café was already talking about the new prince, especially now it had been discovered that he lived locally. I’d overheard a few students saying they’d spent the night with him, but I didn’t know whether to believe them. I didn’t
want
to believe them, but I knew the odds weren’t exactly in my favor on that one.

George had never claimed to be wholesome and innocent, but he’d also made me feel special. Unique. Knowing he’d slept with half the girls at my college didn’t help, but I wasn’t exactly innocent either. If I did go ahead with this crazy plan, there’d be a few guys here bragging about how they’d screwed a princess.

That was a thought I had to get out of my head immediately. I wasn’t a princess, and even if I became one, it would be a fleeting title. I’d lose it again when George and I went through the inevitable divorce.

At least we would actually get married. That was one step further than my last engagement.

“I’m just saying,” Ellie continued, “that you should be at home thinking this decision over. Then, when you finally come to your senses and decide to marry him, you won’t ever have to work here again. Although, come to think of it, I would like you to work out your notice so that I’m not left in the lurch.”

“I’m sure I can send in a servant to work my shift,” I joked. “Anyway, I don’t think I can go through with this. It’s going to end badly; I just know it.”

“I don’t know how you can say no to him. Literally. I don’t know if it’s physically possible to say no to a man like that. The other day, I closed my eyes and imagined him proposing to me. When I opened my eyes, my legs were wide open.”

I laughed at Ellie’s joke, but from the look on her face she was being deadly serious.

My hand still stung, but I pulled it away from the water and dried it off with a towel. There was already a line forming at the counter, and I needed to keep my mind occupied. Conversations like this weren’t helping.

A man coughed loudly behind me trying to get my attention. That made my blood boil more than a broken cappuccino machine. Weren’t the English supposed to be good at waiting in line? I thought it was a national pastime. It was more exciting than cricket at least.

“Just a minute,” I yelled out. Impatient prick.

I paused while putting the finishing touches to the coffee that had led to me getting a burned hand. The atmosphere in here had changed. The sound of fingers moving furiously over keyboards had disappeared, replaced by whispered conversations.

When I turned around, the first thing I saw was a room full of people all pulling out their phones and holding them up in the air. Then I noticed what the phones were all pointed towards.

George was standing at the front of the line just like he had been yesterday. Except now he had been outed as a prince.

“Hi,” he said casually. He appeared to be blissfully unaware of the attention he was getting. Either that or he didn’t care.

“Hi.”

“Can we talk?”

This was it. Decision time.

The gossip in the café ramped up a level as people began speculating why a prince might want to talk to the American girl who worked in the university coffee shop.

“Let’s go somewhere private,” I suggested.

“I don’t think we’re going to get any privacy right now,” George said. “And I don’t care.”

“You want an answer?”

“Yes. But I also want the opportunity to ask the question again. Properly this time.”

George dropped to one knee, and pulled a small box out of his pocket. The collective gasp from the customers could have been heard the next town over. Regardless of what happened next, this moment would be played on televisions and websites the world over. I was already famous. Even if I said no, my life would never be the same again.

“Sophia Simpkins,” George said determinedly. “Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

I was speechless. Even more surprisingly, so was Ellie. I still didn’t have an answer, and now I had no more time to think about it. I couldn’t do this, could I?

This is insane.

Absolutely batshit crazy.

I should run away and never look back.

I should—

George opened the box.

Holy shit, that’s a big rock
.

“
P
eople are going
to assume we’re shagging.”

“Would you like me to make some satisfied noises?” I asked. “There are bound to be people outside my room trying to get the scoop. Wouldn’t want you to look bad.”

“No, it’s alright. I’m sure there are enough kiss and tell stories doing the rounds about me by now. The whole world probably knows what I’m capable of in bed.”

“What happens next?” I asked, quickly changing the subject.

“We go out in public together a few times to make it convincing, and then get married.”

“Who are we trying to convince?”

“The trustees of the trust set up by my biological father. They won’t ask too many questions, but I’d like to make sure. They’ll hand over the money, then we’ll get divorced, and live happily ever after.”

“Just like a fairytale.”

George turned serious and took hold of my hand, leading me over to the sofa. I sat down next to him and this time our legs touched. My mind flashed back to last night in the club when his hand had touched my leg. How stupid was it that brushing up against my fiancé’s leg was enough to get me excited?

“I know I joke about this, but I do appreciate what you’re doing. I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

“I know you will.”

“We’ll have to live together, but I can sleep on the sofa.”

I nodded, but we both knew it wouldn’t be as simple as that. We’d almost slept together after a few drinks in a club; how would we resist each other if we lived in the same house?

“My mom’s going to kill me,” I said. “Seriously, she is going to be pissed.”

“I can charm your mother, don’t you worry.”

“It’s not as simple as that. She won’t be happy about me getting married. Not after the last time.”

“You’ve been married before?”

The story was probably all over the internet by now, and it wouldn’t be flattering.

“No,” I said. “I nearly got married. I called off the engagement.”

“Oh, well that’s okay. Nothing to worry about.”

“When I say ‘I called off the engagement’ I mean I ran away on the day of the wedding.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah. Probably should have mentioned that I guess.”

A look of intense thought stretched across George’s face, but then he relaxed into one of his mesmerizing smiles. One of the smiles that melted my heart. No man had ever looked at me like that before. Not even Stan.

“People will think we’re made for each other,” George said. “I’ve got a reputation for… well, for appreciating the female form. And you’ve abandoned a guy at the alter. We’re two long lost souls, afraid of commitment until we found each other.”

“You almost make this sound romantic.”

“It could be, if you want it to be.”

“One step at a time, tiger, one step at a time.”

T
his might not have been
a good idea.

I wanted to introduce my new fiancée to the country as quickly as possible. It was a nice day, so Sophia suggested we go to York Castle and look around because “we don’t have all that many castles in America.”

It somehow never occurred to me that walking around a castle when you’ve just been announced as heir to the throne might not be the best idea. I looked like I was getting ready to rule the country, when all I wanted to do was claim my inheritance and run. This was the sort of thing I should have run by Harry first.

“Can I touch it?” Sophia asked.

“We should probably wait until we have some privacy, but sure, you can cop a feel if you like.”

Sophia pursed her lips in a way that made me desperate to lean over and kiss her. I’d only kissed her on the cheek so far today, and it was driving me crazy.

“I meant the rocks,” she replied. “Are we allowed to touch them?”

“Oh, yeah sure. It’s not a museum.”

We had to keep our conversations to a whisper to avoid being overheard. English Heritage had agreed to grant us a private visit, but there was always a member of staff in earshot.

“It just feels weird to touch something so old.” She reached out and placed her hand against what was left of the castle wall. According to the sign we were standing in what would have been a kitchen.

“I guess we take it for granted,” I replied. “I forget you guys don’t have any history.”

“We have plenty of history thank you very much.”

“Like what?”

“Well, there’s the small matter of that little war where we kicked your asses out of the country two hundred and fifty years ago.”

“Two hundred and fifty years? Please, that’s not history. In England, we refer to that as ‘current events.’ History is the dark ages, the crusades, the reformation, kings and… other stuff.”

“You’re going to be in the—”

“Don’t say it,” I interrupted. “I’m not going to be in history books, and I’m not going to be taught in schools. This will all be over in six months, and then everyone will go back to normal.”

“I still don’t understand why you don’t want to be a prince,” Sophia said. “You’d get to wear a crown one day. You’d look good in a crown; assuming you can find one to fit your head.”

“If you like me in a crown, I’ll wear one. But let’s keep the dress up to the bedroom.”

Sophia smiled, and looked away, pretending to read an information sign that I knew she’d already read. I’d spent last night on the sofa, and we were still tip-toeing around the whole ‘sex’ thing. That didn’t stop me getting a stonking great big erection when she came out to get a glass of water wearing only a pair of tight cotton shorts and a strappy top that had me struggling to look at anything other than her pert nipples.

“Do you not like the royal family?” Sophia asked. “They seem nice enough.”

“I don’t know them. Not yet. I’m sure they’re lovely people, but that doesn’t matter. I don’t want their lifestyle. I just want to get my money and run.”

Sophia struggled to control her hair, as a bitter wind blew through the open castle walls. What would it have been like living here hundreds of years ago? Even with fires blazing, it would have been difficult to keep warm during the winter when temperatures dipped below freezing. I suppose it helped when you had someone to snuggle up to.

I wrapped an arm around Sophia’s shoulder, brushed the hair out of her face, and kissed her gently on her cold forehead. She put both arms around me and hugged me tightly. I didn’t look behind me, but I knew some of the staff would be taking pictures of this moment. I didn’t care; it looked good for the cameras. The trustees would be completely convinced.

I know I am.

T
he manager
of the gift shop made a huge fuss over us the second we walked through the door. I hated it. If this was what being a prince was like, then I knew I was making the correct decision.

“If there is anything I can do for you both, anything at all, then just let me know,” the manager said before stepping to the back of the store to give us some semblance of privacy.

“He’s still watching us,” Sophia said. “Maybe he thinks we’re going to steal something.”

“You’re American. He’s probably worried this is the prelude to an invasion.”

“Or maybe he thinks you might want assistance, but you’ll never ask for it because the English are so afraid to speak up.”

“Or he’s waiting for you to start a loud conversation on your phone, or pull out a selfie stick.”

“Hey,” Sophia said loudly. “I do not own a selfie stick. Although they do look useful.”

“Somehow I don’t think we’ll ever need help getting our picture taken.”

“Oh my God,” Sophia exclaimed loudly. She couldn’t have sounded more American if she’d have put her hand on her chest and started singing the national anthem. “They have mugs.”

“Of course they have mugs. It’s a gift shop.”

“No, I mean they have mugs of you. Look.”

Now I just wanted to vomit. It wasn’t even a flattering picture. Weren’t there any photos of me were I wasn’t drunk or hungover? “How did they even get these mugs made so quickly?”

“They aren’t exactly the best quality. I suppose they’ll do some for the royal wedding as well.”

“That’s why we’re going to have a private wedding.”

Sophia put down the mug and grabbed some sweets. “Let’s get this fudge and then go sit outside again.”

“You looked cold,” I remarked, staring at her arms and chest. “Grab a jumper as well.” Probably shouldn’t have said that; why was I encouraging her to cover up?

We stood at the top of the castle with a view overlooking the town and shared the bag of fudge between us. We’d be in range of anyone with a half-decent zoom lens now, but the pictures couldn’t be any worse than the ones they already had of me. At least I wasn’t drunk.

Sophie slipped on the jumper and lifted up the hood to stop her hair blowing everywhere. Had a princess ever been photographed in a hoodie before? Maybe. Had a princess ever been photographed looking so beautiful? Definitely not.

I’d never been so captivated by a woman showing so little skin. All I could see was her hands and face. Both were red with the cold, and she continually had to sweep the hair from her eyes.

“Do you think we’ve accomplished our mission for the day?” Sophia asked.

“Yeah, I think so. Why? Do you want to go home?”

“No, let’s stay here for a bit. The view’s nice.”

“It certainly is,” I agreed.

Sophia rested her head on my shoulder, as she reached her hand into the bag for another piece of fudge. The ring sparkled from the rays of the setting sun. It suited her.

“What do you want to do tomorrow?” Sophia asked.

“We don’t have to spend every day together,” I replied. “Not if you don’t want to.”

“I’m not bored of you yet. We can hang out if you like.”

“I would like that. How about we stay in and watch The Tudors on Netflix? I want you to find out what happens when Queens step out of line.”

“Oh please. You forget there’s been a power shift since the sixteenth century dear.”

“Kings still rule over Queens.”

“Yes, but I’m American, remember? Try to behead me and we’ll kick your ass so hard you’ll be driving on the right hand side of the road, and singing the American national anthem before soccer games.”

“We’ll see about—” I paused as my phone vibrated in my pocket. We hadn’t had any signal in last few hours, so I’d been left alone, but I guess we’d found a few bars of reception. Lucky me.

“Aren’t you going to answer it?” Sophia asked.

“I suppose I need to start telling people to piss off at some point. I really should make that my answerphone message.”

I answered the call, but I did little more than say yes ‘four’ times and then hang up.

“Who was it?”

“Change of plans for tomorrow. You need to go shopping to buy a dress.”

“Oh. Well, if you insist. Where are we going?”

“To the registry office. The wedding’s been booked. We’re getting married.”