Page 55 of American Royalty

And it was going to take more than declaring herself “on vacation” to make it so.

That’s when she remembered she’d planned to use this time to work on her baking. Nana had been an incredible baker and she’d wanted to pass her knowledge on to Dani. But Dani had always put her off, assuming she’d have plenty of time later for those lessons.

She’d never regretted anything more.

On the rare occasions she found herself at home with a few free hours, she always put on an episode of her favorite baking show and attempted to make something similar to the contestants’ creations, though she was absolutely terrible at it. At anything involved in the preparation of food, really. But something about the whir of the mixer and the kneading of dough always calmed her.

And suddenly all she’d wanted to do was bake bread.

Margery had set her up with the ingredients, shown her where the appliances were stored, and offered to stay and help. Dani had waved her away, knowing the other woman had several errands to run in town. Instead, she’d FaceTimed Nyla and roped her friend into the “adventure.” Between the spirit of Nana and the recipes of Peter Nashville, the bread king, Dani was certainthistime she’d create the bread, rolls, and muffins that would make Nana proud.

What she hadn’t accounted for was how different it was over here. Back home, her kitchen was bright, airy, and spacious, like a set from a Nancy Meyers movie, which was the exact look she’d been going for. Here, though the house was large and lovely, the same emphasis wasn’t placed on the kitchen being a showpiece. It was extremely functional, just smaller than she was used to. And the baking temperatures were Celsius not Fahrenheit. She knew that but had forgotten. The measurements were slightly off, the terminology kept tripping her up—cookie, biscuit, muffin, all different! Plus, maybe the flour?

Whatever the reason, nothing turned out the way she’d planned. Recipe after recipe, she’d followed the instructions to the letter—give or take—but instead of beautiful buns with chewy golden crusts and pillowy soft crumb, she’d ended up with burned, flat, dense projectiles of death.

Oh, and a mass that looked like a dick with a loaf-shaped ball sac.

Nothing that would earn Nana’s respect.

And she’d ruined her host’s kitchen in the process.

“Straight up, I thought he was going to have a heart attack,” Nyla said, a smile breaking out on her face.

“I know, right?” Dani giggled. “And that muscle in his jaw started ticking like the turn signal on an old Chevy!”

They both burst out laughing, the amusement lightening the tense atmosphere.

“He had every right to be upset. Look at what you did to his kitchen.”

“I know. I know.” And Dani did. “Something about him just... aggravates me.”

“You mean the way he doesn’t fall at your feet like most men?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say that,” she huffed.

But it was true. He was aware of her, but he didn’t let it affect his decisions. Instead, he continued to treat her as if she was a bother.

Maybe that’s what bugged her. She knew that look. Had been on the receiving end of it often while growing up. Forced to stay with relatives and friends of her nana who barely had enough time, attention, space, and food for their own families, let alone a plus one. She’d come to despise that feeling of being unwanted. It was the one thing that drove her. That kept her going. The idea that she would never be made to feel that way again.

And here she was, a successful entertainer and entrepreneur and she wasstillgetting served side-eye for being somewhere she wasn’t appreciated.

“I mean, I get it,” Nyla was saying. “Those pictures didn’t do him justice. Even through the screen, I could sense it. The intensity. That man is fine with a capital, bolded, and italicized, thirty-six-point-type-size F!”

“Enough! Fuck. You think he’s hot. Message received.”

Nyla pursed her lips, but she continued. “You gotta think about this from his perspective. People don’t live out there because they’re extroverts. He’s not used to having people foisted upon him and invading his home. You’re the same way. How many people have actually been inside your places?”

Not many.

But Dani didn’t want to consider the things she and the prince might have in common. She’d admitted her mistake. That was all she was willing to concede at the moment.

Nyla winced. “Despite what you told him, you’re not doing this tomorrow, are you?”

“No.” It was best to save her future forays into baking for when she was back in familiar surroundings.

“What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know.” But she needed to figure it out. Boredom wasn’t her friend. “I’m really sad that one pastry didn’t turn out, though. It looked so good on the show.”