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CHAPTER 10

LIZZY

PORTUGAL. NOT AN ISLAND.

The evening with the prince ended up being fairly enjoyable. His ideas for a documentary weren’t bad, either. If I let him help, I might actually have a chance of actually creating something to help the team out, something I hadn’t really been planning on in the first place.

But if I kept him close, I could kill two birds with one stone, I figured. I could make sure he was safe, and I could start working on convincing him he needed to go home. The question was how exactly to do that without telling him who I was, admitting I knew who he was, or tipping him off to the very delicate state of his father’s health—any of which could invalidate his claim to the throne.

“Call it a night?” I suggested, as he pushed away his drink.

He nodded. “Probably shouldn’t have had that at all with a game tomorrow.”

“I’ll drive home?”

“It’s my truck,” he pointed out.

“I’ll pick you up for the game.”

He made a face. “You’re quite a gentleman.”

He didn’t mean it that way, but the arrow sank deep. That was something I’d heard in different forms many times. Which was why I’d given up on dating. Men didn’t want a woman who was every bit as tough or strong as they were. They didn’t want a woman who could hold her own physically and verbally. They said they wanted an equal partner, but I had yet to find a man who didn’t use my own strength against me somehow to make me feel like less of a woman.

“I’m sober,” I told him.

“I mean, if you want to do math,” he began. “I’m at about two-fifteen right now, and I don’t think that wine counted as a real drink?—”

“Then why do you drink it?” I couldn’t help it. I was curious about the pink wine.

“Lizzy,” he said, leaning forward slightly as if I should be able to figure this out for myself. “I got that for you.”

“Oh,” I said, understanding hitting as a laugh grew in my chest. “And I drank yours?”

“Yeah, you did,” he laughed.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t know!” I couldn’t stop laughing now, though I wasn’t even sure why it was so funny. I’d accepted that the prince drank pink wine and just cataloged it as a quirk.

“I don’t drink pink wine,” I managed through a gasp. “Why would you assume that?”

He shook his head. “I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry.”

“For the record,” I said. “There is good pink wine, though. Just not white zinfandel. There’s a tiny vineyard you’ve never heard of in an island country you’ve probably never heard of, and it makes the most amazing rosé.”

“It’s not Murdan Rosé, is it?” Declan raised an eyebrow.

Shit. I felt my heart drop into my stomach. I couldn’t tell him I knew anything about our homeland. What had I been thinking? “No, what?”

The prince looked relieved, as if he’d brought up our country without thinking, just as I had.

“So what are you talking about?” We both stood and made our way toward the door.

“Sorry, what?” I had hoped he would just drop it.

“Good rose, you said. Tiny country?”

“Portugal,” I managed to blurt. “They make great wine there.”

Declan took my arm, turning me to face him. “Lizzy, I know athletes have a reputation for being ignorant… but I’ve heard of Portugal.”

“Oh, well, yeah. I guess it’s not that small of a country.”

“Also…” Declan looked sheepish as he unlocked the truck. “Portugal is not an island, Lizzy.”

“My bad,” I managed, feeling a furious blush climb my cheeks.

I ended up letting the prince drive me back to my own car in the arena parking lot, but I followed him from a distance until I was sure he was home safe. And then I considered what a completely ridiculous situation I’d gotten myself into.