Mina laughed. “I’m sure. After all, no satellite services...”
She wandered round the expansive living area first and then the large kitchen, noting the locations of necessary items as she opened cabinets and drawers.
“Oh, and here’s a can opener! Perfect!”
“A can opener?” He raised an eyebrow.
Mina’s owlish look alone would have been comical, but when it was coupled with her next words he had trouble keeping a straight face.
“Youdoknow that people eat food out of cans, right?” she asked delicately, and her attempt to disguise exactly what she would think about him if he answered no was almost painful.
Holding back, he nodded seriously. “I am aware.”
Her sigh of relief was too much, though, and it broke the dam on his laughter.
When he could breathe again, he wiped the tears from the corners of his eyes and offered, “I may be King, but I still had my uni days.”
She rolled her eyes at that. “I’m sure...”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Grinning, she shrugged. “Somehow I imagine your late-night takeout and pajama days were a bit higher-class than mine.”
It was his turn to shrug, his smile easy. “Probably. But caviar still comes out of a can.”
This time it was she who couldn’t hold back, and the laughter rolled out of her with a faint edge of hysteria to it—the only hint at the unusual day she’d had. He was impressed.
“Whether it’s out of a can, or anything else, we should eat and then rest up,” he said. “We can shower and change and set out early tomorrow. If we’re lucky, we’ll be at the summer palace before lunch.”
Sobering, she nodded. “I don’t have a change of clothes, but a shower sounds divine. Or, even better yet, a long soak...”
She virtually purred at the idea, her voice going husky and smooth, and despite crash landing his plane and an unplanned half-day hike, he felt his pants tighten in response.
“Ask and you shall receive,” he said. “The summer palace is always stocked with spare clothing and the master bath is equipped with a state-of-the-art hot tub and, I believe, every kind of bath salt and soaking serum anyone could want.”
Closing her eyes, she let out a long, contented sigh, before her eyes shot open again. “Do you know how to cook?”
He almost answered honestly—the question as ridiculous as her concern about canned food—but held back at the last second, curious to see how she would respond.
Keeping his face carefully blank, he said, “I know how a can opener works.”
Frowning, she said, “That’s not very self-sufficient—but unsurprising. When would you have had to cook? It’s fine, though. I can put something together for us. It won’t be what you’re used to—I’m no chef—but we won’t starve.” She eyed him through the corner of her eye, apparently content with her own answers to her questions. “And it will be more than a heated up can of green beans...”
Not bothering to correct her impression, he smiled openly. “Wonderful. I can’t say I was looking forward to green beans...”
He did, however, find he was looking forward to having her cook for him. He might be used to top-rated chefs, but something about the idea set off something hot and primal inside him.
“After dinner, though, that bath has my name all over it.”
Her grin could only be described as wolfish, but he found himself attracted to its wild greed, wanting to see the same glint reflected in her eyes when she took him in. Preferably in the bath, her body naked and slick...
His body stirred again, and, with the direction his thoughts were taking, he decided it was time for a shower himself. An ice-cold one.
Entering the brightly lit and expansively marbled bathroom, he reflected on the fact that his concept of “cozy” was relative. At ten thousand square feet, the cabin certainly wasn’t small, and it boasted every modern comfort. But, most importantly, it was private.
The time he’d spent here with his parents was the only time he could remember in all his life when they’d had no servants or staff dancing attendance. His father had insisted on it after the renovation. His son might have been a prince, but he was going to experience life without being waited on hand and foot.
Removing his pants and putting them in the hidden hamper, Zayn then turned the shower on. Steaming jets burst forth from the wall and the waterfall showerhead, stinging his skin as the water encountered the small cuts and abrasions he’d picked up from trekking shirtless through the woods. He hadn’t noticed amassing them on the way. He had been too engrossed in Mina.