Free Heir Untamed by Danielle Bourdon

climbing, canoeing, skiing—pretty much all outdoor sports. You?” He shredded lettuce and cheese and brought out a bevy of peppers, tomatoes, cilantro and other hot sauce ingredients.
    Chey arched a brow. He was going to make hot sauce from scratch? “I like taking pictures of all those things. Before my mother passed, we used to go horseback riding and spend time at the beach.”
    “Not bad pursuits. You should try canoeing before the weather turns. Latvala has some fantastic rivers.” He paused, then added, “I'm sorry to hear about your mother. That must be difficult.”
    “It was. Is. It's only been just under nine months since the accident that took her and my father.” Chey had a longer drink, turning her mind from the painful recent past to thoughts of the future. It was better that way. The topic of her parents was still fresh and hurtful. “Maybe I will try the canoeing, then. You should suggest the best place to go.”
    “I'll do you one better,” he said, stirring the meat. “I'll take you myself.”
    Chey twitched in surprise. It wasn't an unpleasant prospect when she thought about it. He knew Latvala much better than she did.
    He glanced over his shoulder, both brows arched.
    Realizing she hadn't answered, and that he probably thought she didn't want to go, she nodded. “Yes. Sorry. I was imagining what it would be like and whether I should bring a camera or not.”
    “I won't let us tip over. Bring the camera,” he said, turning back to the food. He dumped the hot sauce ingredients into a food processor and turned it to grind. In short order, the meal finished cooking. He carried plates of hot steak strips to the counter along with the shredded lettuce and cheese. Sliced tomatoes, avocado dip and chips accompanied the flour tortillas he heated over the stove.
    “I can't believe you made all this,” Chey said. She set her glass down and accepted a plate from Sander before beginning to fill a tortilla with fajita fixings.
    He set the hot sauce, now in a small bowl, beside everything else. Using the toe of his boot, he pulled a stool around to his side and straddled it so they were facing each other across the counter.
    “I did mention that my mother was a chef, right?”
    “I know, but I didn't think you actually learned anything from her.” Chey smiled, sheepish at the confession.
    He laughed. “Why wouldn't I? It wasn't like she shooed me out of the kitchens at every turn. She was the type, anyway, that demanded I learn how to take care of myself.”
    “It seems like it worked out pretty well for you,” she said, leaning over her plate to take a first bite.
    “I suppose it has.” Sander filled three fajitas for himself, dolloped guacamole on his plate and added a few chips. After a quick scan of the windows and a check of his phone, he dug in.
    “Anything?” Chey asked when he glanced at the phone.
    “You'll have to put up with me for another two or three hours, then you can head back to the castle.” Sander eyed her while he ate. He took large bites, holding the fajita in two hands.
    “Did they say whether the photo session is still on?” Chey watched his mouth instead of his eyes for a long minute, then dropped her gaze to her plate.
    “Mm. Yeah. They're pushing the time back a little. You'll get details when you return. Something about the big garden, I guess.” Sounding unimpressed and disinterested in the Royal pictures, he took another bite of his food. “They have your camera, too, and the mare.”
    “Oh good.” Chey, relieved to know her camera hadn't been left to the elements, dipped a chip into the guacamole and ate it. The guacamole was as good as everything else. “Thanks. For all this. Keeping me entertained while we have to wait, making lunch. I have to admit—it's really good.”
    “Don't worry about it. I don't get company out here all that often. It's nice for a change.” He chuckled and finished off fajita number two. “Thanks,” he said after he chewed