Page 10 of Tempted By the Princess

“Maybe?”

“You can stay one more night,” I said, knowing even as I said it that it was a terrible idea. “But after that you’ll need a different plan.”

I wanted her gone. Needed her gone. Not because she was a difficult guest. She was surprisingly easy to get along with and definitely helpful. Not nearly as spoiled and entitled as I’d expected, given who she was. But I knew that the longer she stayed here, the harder it would be to resist her.

She leapt up and grabbed me, pulling me into a hug. I remained stiff for a full ten seconds before my arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer. Genny was soft and small and fit perfectly against me as her head came to rest against my shoulder. I stared down at her blonde hair, enjoying the feel of her pressed against me for much longer than she probably intended.

She pulled away reluctantly, her eyes going to mine. “I appreciate your hospitality,” she said softly, her voice oddly formal.

“No problem,” I said. “I’m going to clean the bathroom.”

Genevieve

Our Sunday passed quickly, much to my surprise. Carrie spent the morning cleaning the house, not that it really needed it. The place was practically spotless.

Not wanting to be a rude guest I did what I could to help out including unloading the dishwasher and running the duster over the surfaces in the living room. Carrie seemed surprised that I was helping, no doubt she figured I was spoiled. Which was fair, but I wasn’t totally a brat.

“Don’t you have a maid at home?”

“I have a cleaning service that comes in once a week, but that doesn’t mean I don’t pick up after myself. I like to keep things tidy.”

Just before noon she told me she was going upstairs to paint.

“Upstairs?” I asked. “I thought this was one level.”

She pointed to a door next to the kitchen entry that I’d assumed was a closet. “I have a painting studio in the attic.”

I was dying to go up there and see her art, but she’d been clear with me before that she wasn’t comfortable with that, so I respected her wishes and held my tongue.

“Happy painting.”

“Just holler up the stairs if you need anything.”

“I will.”

After she left I read for a while, then did something I never did: I took a nap. I’d never been one to sleep during the daytime, but then again, my mother frowned on things like naps. When I woke up I was groggy and hungry.

Carrie was in the kitchen, staring into the refrigerator like it held all the secrets to the universe.

“It’s pretty slim pickings in here,” she said. “I need to go grocery shopping, but I hate going on Sundays, it’s always a madhouse.”

“I order groceries in,” I ventured. “And I get a lot of those pre-prepared meals.”

“Of course you do.”

I resisted mentioning that at least I cooked for myself. Or reheated anyway. My parents had offered to hire me a chef a dozen times, but I’d always rebuffed them.

Carrie closed the door, then gave me a look.

“Do you like burritos?”

“I’m not sure I’ve ever had one.”

Her eyebrows winged up almost to her hairline. “You’ve never had a burrito? How is that possible when you’ve lived here so long?”

I shrugged, unwilling to admit that my diet tended to be pretty limited. I wasn’t the most adventurous eater, and growing up under the spotlight made me nervous about going out to eat alone.

“It’s time you found the deliciousness you’ve been missing in your life. We’re going to my favorite burrito cart,” she said.