Free Prince's Proposal (The Exiled Royals 1) by Ivy Iverson

days.
     
    It was hot under the Nevada sun and sweat poured down his forehead in liberal streaks. Ray checked his watch again and groaned.
    Melissa was over ninety minutes late.
    When she finally did show up ten minutes later, he silently vowed to find the crappy thrift shop where she’d been buying her man-repelling clothes and burn it down.
    Melissa made her way toward him through the crowd. She was wearing a large, wide-brimmed straw hat, the kind that older women wore for gardening, another pair of those terrible acid wash jeans circa 1986, and a green and yellow plaid short-sleeved button up shirt.
    She was a gorgeous woman, especially with that pouty mouth that he couldn’t help but fantasize about being wrapped around his cock. But she was doing a masterful job of making herself look like the biggest yokel in Nevada.
    “Oh, love muffin,” she cooed, her voice reaching a shrill pitch that would make dogs bark and squirm. “I thought I said six and was early. Were you waiting for long?”
    His immediate reaction was to throw up his hands and shake his head at her. His nose was peeling, he was saturated with sweat from the desert sun, and he was starving. The best thing she had offered was essentially “my bad.”
    Instead he took in a deep breath and remembered the kiss from a few days ago as well as Gregory’s encouragement. This was all about playing out the long game. Melissa thought that she held all the cards, but it was the other way around. As long as he never gave in to his frustrations or expressed his honest reactions, then he could win; he could break down those walls.
    Recalling her warm and wriggling in his lap, Ray took another deep breath and forced his annoyance away.
    Two can play at this game.
    He smiled brightly for her and hugged her tightly, shifting a little around the fanny pack at her waist. “No worries. It gave me time to think about something I want to do with you.”
    She blinked and, for a moment, he was sure he spied frustration marring her formerly unwrinkled brow. “You’re not pissed?”
    “Why would I be? In fact, I have a great idea. I know you’re excited about buying a house with the money from our deal.”
    “I…sure,” she said, her pitch more its sultry and normal low than before. Good, his actual Melissa was working her way to the fore. “That’s exactly what I signed up for.”
    “Then this weekend…hell, tomorrow , we should work together on house hunting. I know some great enclaves. I know you said a modest home, but that’s all a matter of definition, isn’t it?”
    “You don’t have to do that, uh, snuggle britches.”
    He smiled, knowing damn well it was a smile that had loosened the panties of the most frigid debutantes out there. Mel licked her lips and then shook her head. Perfect. He pressed his advantage: “I want to,” he said, kissing her cheek.
    When she spoke again, her voice sounded more like Minnie Mouse on helium. “Maybe, we’ll see, honey bunny, but right now? We need to go on the rides!”
    This would not end well, Ray knew.

Chapter Seventeen
     
    “Ugh, I’m going to die,” she said, hanging her head between her hands and accepting the back rubs from her husband.
    “Here,” he said, his voice commanding and gentle and, damn her, even Mel knew she was falling in love with that voice and that she’d miss him when he was finally gone. “You need some hydration, get some water into you.”
    She looked up and grimaced at the too small novelty t-shirt, the “I Got Lucky at the Nevada State Fair” monstrosity in bright purple in front of her. Melissa had followed Brandy’s plan to the tee. See, the most important thing about the county fair was that it served corn dogs. And funnel cake. And cotton candy. And fried Oreos.
    Basically, it was a purveyor of all the junk food of a carbohydrate addict’s fondest fantasies.
    It also had rides. Spinning rides, whirling rides, rides that bumped, and cars you could race. She’d demanded