Page 24 of Summer on the Ranch (Royally Wed #1)

‘‘I ’m going to be cleaning pie dough off the ceiling for weeks,’’ Betty complained good-naturedly.

Alex looked at the flour covering the countertop around her, not to mention the light dusting that climbed nearly to her elbows as she rolled out her piecrust. She grinned.

‘‘I warned you that I’d never made a pie before. My cooking classes never covered them.’’ She paused, trying to remember all her instructors had discussed.

‘‘I’m great at tortes and cakes and can make you a dozen perfect roses in marzipan, but pies are a mystery. Especially pumpkin.’’

Betty arched her eyebrows and looked suitably shocked. ‘‘It’s a tradition.’’

‘‘I know. But I must remind you that I’ve never really celebrated Thanksgiving. It’s strictly an American holiday.’’

‘‘I hadn’t thought of that,’’ Betty admitted. She stood at the stove, stirring a sugar-and-evaporated-milk mixture that was the basis of what Mitch had promised was killer fudge. ‘‘So you’ve never had a real Thanksgiving dinner?’’

‘‘I vaguely remember my mother insisting on turkey dinner a few times when I was growing up, but somehow the celebration got lost.’’ Alex shrugged.

‘‘There are so many events going on at any one time. The palace sponsors many of the arts. Then there are the visiting dignitaries, not to mention our own national holidays.’’

Betty pulled the heavy pot off the burner and poured in a bowl of chocolate chips. ‘‘When you’re all gussied up in one of your suits, talking on the phone or getting something messengered to you, it’s easy to think of you as a princess. But now, you’re just like a regular person.’’

Alex carefully folded the crust in quarters, then lifted it to the pie pan and unfolded it. She glanced at Betty. ‘‘That must mean I have pie dough in my hair.’’

‘‘Nope, but you have flour on your face.’’

Alex started to wipe it away, then realized her hands were too dirty to be of any help. ‘‘If someone sneaks up and takes a photo, I’ll simply claim to be setting a new style.’’

‘‘You do that,’’ Betty said. ‘‘I’m sure they’ll believe you.’’

Alex chuckled as she crimped the edge of the piecrust in place. When she’d finished, Betty nodded to the remaining dough. ‘‘Now do it all again. You’re making three pies all together.’’

‘‘But what if they’re terrible?’’

‘‘We’re using my secret recipe, so they’re going to be terrific. Don’t you worry about how they’ll taste.’’

‘‘I hope you’re right,’’ Alex said doubtfully.

‘‘Trust me. We’ll be turning you into a pastry chef in no time.’’ Betty stirred a cup of nuts into the rapidly thickening fudge. ‘‘So how’s the search for your long-lost brother coming?’’

‘‘I’m not sure,’’ Alex admitted. ‘‘I’ve been back to The Sunshine Home twice, and every time I’m there, the task of going through the records gets more and more daunting.

Mitch helped me sort the boxes by year and subject, but then when I started searching through them I realized that what the label said and what was in the boxes were two very different things.

Apparently people have searched for records before, but they didn’t file things back where they belonged.

I think I’m going to have to talk to my sisters and have one or two of them come here and help me. ’’

‘‘Sounds like a plan,’’ Betty said. She glanced over and studied the way Alex rolled out the dough. ‘‘Just exactly like you’re doing. Smooth and even.’’

Alex flashed her a grateful smile. ‘‘You’re being very patient.’’

‘‘I’m enjoying your company.’’

‘‘I’m having fun, too,’’ she said. If truth were told, she liked almost everything about her stay.

Most especially Mitch. He was an unexpectedly wonderful bonus.

If she was honest with herself, she didn’t mind the time she’d had to spend here, nor did she mind that her sisters were too busy with public appearances to join her anytime soon.

She wasn’t sure she wanted either Elizabeth or Serena getting a look at her handsome cowboy host.

She finished with the second piecrust and started on the third. ‘‘My sister Katherine is busy tracking a lead right now, but I’m sure that Serena and Elizabeth will come to Hope eventually. We have to coordinate our schedules. Right now they’re busy with personal appearances.’’

‘‘Do you have any of those planned?’’

‘‘I have one on Saturday in Los Angeles. It’s a large fund-raiser for a local cancer center. But other than that, I’m free until after the first of the year.’’

‘‘Well, whenever your sisters arrive, they’ll be welcome here.’’

‘‘That would be too many of us,’’ Alex said. ‘‘I think they’ll be better off at a hotel.’’

Betty gave her a quick, knowing look but didn’t say anything, except to direct her to pour the prepared pumpkin filling into the piecrusts. ‘‘Then we bake,’’ the older woman said, ‘‘and tomorrow we’ll taste them.’’

‘‘Couldn’t we taste one tonight and make sure that they’re all right?’’

‘‘Have a little faith.’’

‘‘Oh, I have plenty of faith,’’ Alex murmured as she placed the three pies into the oven. ‘‘I’m just not so sure about my crust-making abilities.’’

* * *

‘‘Just promise,’’ Alex insisted several hours later as she and Mitch relaxed in the living room after dinner.

He made an X over his heart. ‘‘I promise I won’t laugh at you tomorrow if your pumpkin pies are gross.’’

She reached behind her and grabbed one of the small, decorative cushions in the corner of the couch and threatened him with it. ‘‘I did not say they would be gross. I said I was the tiniest bit concerned about how they might taste and I wanted you to promise to be gentle.’’

His brown eyes darkened with an emotion that had nothing to do with her pies. ‘‘I will always be gentle with you, Alex.’’

How did he do that? she wondered as her thighs began to tremble and her heart thundered wildly against her breastbone.

With just a sultry tone and a few casual words he reduced her to a quivering mass.

She felt like a heroine from a daytime drama.

One of those wild women who do anything for passion.

Which didn’t make sense. She was Princess Alexandra of Wynborough.

She was neither passionate nor wild. So why was she so different when she was with Mitch?

‘‘What are you thinking?’’ he asked. ‘‘You have the oddest expression on your face.’’

She shook her head. ‘‘Nothing really.’’

‘‘Liar.’’

‘‘All right. How about if I say that it’s personal?’’

‘‘That I’ll accept.’’ He took a sip of his brandy, then grinned. ‘‘So, what were you thinking?’’

This time she actually smacked him with the small, fluffy cushion. He had the nerve to laugh at her. ‘‘Yeah, like that’s going to hurt.’’

‘‘You could at least pretend to be intimidated,’’ she grumbled. ‘‘Need I remind you that I do have the power to behead you.’’

‘‘Cheap talk. I’m starting to think you’re not even a real princess.’’

She sat angled toward him, their knees bumping.

A couple of floor lamps provided subdued lighting, as did the crackling fire.

As she inhaled the sweet scent of wood smoke, Alex promised herself that no matter what happened, she would always remember this night.

The way Mitch sat so close to her, the sensual, unspoken but very real promise between them.

She wanted to hold all her memories from the ranch in a special place in her brain so she wouldn’t lose a single detail.

For reasons she didn’t quite understand, she sensed that they were going to be a very important part of her life and not anything she would want to forget.

His gaze settled on her face. ‘‘But you are a real princess, aren’t you. No matter that I wish you weren’t.’’

His comment surprised her. ‘‘Why would you wish that?’’

His only answer was a shrug.

Alex wasn’t sure what to make of that. Her royal status shouldn’t matter to him, unless he was talking about her invasion of his house. If she hadn’t been royalty, there would have been no reason for her to have stayed this long. Except she didn’t think that was what he meant.

‘‘I’m glad you’re going to be here for Thanksgiving,’’ he said. ‘‘My folks wanted me to come up to Washington and stay with them, but I’d already decided I couldn’t get away. You’re going to save me from a very solitary dinner.’’

‘‘I’m glad. I would hate to think that I was intruding on a carefully planned event.’’

‘‘Not likely. Betty makes most of the meal beforehand. Last year John was around, but this year I was going to be all on my own.’’

Alex frowned. ‘‘I hadn’t thought of this before, but I just realized that your brother is going to miss a very important family holiday. Would he really stay away and not even call you or your parents?’’

Mitch shrugged. ‘‘He might. John has his own demons to deal with. I gave up judging him a long time ago.’’

There was something in Mitch’s tone, a whisper of discontent, or was it anger? ‘‘Don’t the two of you get along?’’

Mitch was silent for a long time. He shifted so his head rested against the back of the sofa and his long legs stretched out in front of him. The movement meant they weren’t touching anymore, and Alex tried hard not to feel abandoned. She could see that Mitch had lost himself in the past.

‘‘We get along fine…now,’’ he said slowly. ‘‘Since our late teens, we’ve been pretty close. But there were a lot of years I hated the sight of him.’’

She couldn’t imagine hating one of her sisters. ‘‘Why?’’

‘‘Because I was afraid.’’ He rested his hands on his flat belly and drew in a deep breath.

‘‘I was four when my parents adopted John. They had explained to me that they wanted to give me a brother or sister but that they couldn’t. I found out later that my mom had had some troubles during delivery and the doctors recommended she not have another baby. So they decided to adopt another child.’’

‘‘Why would that frighten you?’’