With the window closed on Rowan’s cooperation, Tristan directed his attention to Caleb. “You know the time blocked off on our schedule in a couple of days?” At Caleb’s nod, Tristan continued, “Apparently, we are getting a visit from the palace.”
“The prince is coming here? My ma will freak when I tell her.”
“Not the prince. His sisters.”
“Even better. Princess Juliana is a looker.” Caleb’s kid-in-a-candy-store enthusiasm directly counterbalanced Rowan’s look of disgust.
With a grunt, Rowan complained, “Can we get back to lifting, or are we going to stand around and royal-watch all day? I’m sure there’s a copy of The Star lying around here somewhere. But I’d like to finish this before practice.”
Caleb side-eyed Tristan. “What’s got him grumpier than usual?”
“Babysit … stupid princess … more important … fucking royal …” Rowan muttered, only every other word notable.
Tristan and Caleb howled with laughter, which only seemed to make Rowan angrier. While Rowan bitched, Tristan explained the assignment. With each word, Caleb’s eyes got wider. Tristan resisted the urge to take a picture of Caleb’s incredulous face.
“Your sisters are going to freak out.”
“Truth,” Tristan agreed.
“Right brilliant.”
“We’ve just wasted fifteen minutes talking about this shit,” Rowan complained.
Even with the grumbling grumpy man next to him, Tristan couldn’t imagine being any happier. Life just didn’t get much better.
3
2 April
St. Peter’s Training Ground
Ele shifted in her seat as the Range Rover motorcade sped along the country highway.
Over the last couple of days, she had thought Jamie both diabolical and brilliant. The short time between when she had been informed of the trip and when it’d happened left only small moments for her to fret over the coming adventure. Between her already-scheduled duties and the shuffling of her calendar, she had been almost too occupied to even decide what she wanted to wear. It kept her from building up her defenses or being paralyzed by her anxiety—an always-precarious balance. She found that knowing exactly what was coming enabled her to deal with it, nerves and all. But it also allowed her time to imagine worst-case scenarios.
Juliana moved beside her, drawing Ele from her musings. “You look nice today. Not your normal staid affair.”
“Thank you, Juliana.” Often, Ele had to remember that her sister didn’t really mean to pay her backhanded compliments.
“Did Beatrix pick that out?”
Ele looked up, catching Millie’s crooked smile and wink. “No, it was all me,” she lied with an indulgent smile.
“Bravo, Ele. Maybe you can kick that nasty moniker. You look too hot to be referred to as the Ice Princess.”
Ele suppressed a scoff at Juliana’s insensitive remark and the nickname Ele hated.
“How lucky are you that Jamie couldn’t come today? I have been looking forward to this for such a long time. I mean, have you seen these guys? Some of them are so hot.”
Ele tried to remember a time she had been as carefree as her younger sister. Had she ever described a guy as hot, out loud, in front of the staff?
“Do you follow T-Dav?”
“No! And how do you follow anyone? You have social media?”
Juliana had the grace to blush. “No.” Her gaze darted from Ele’s—Jules’s tell. “I have fake accounts.”
“Fake?”