Once Upon a Prince by Rachel Hauck Page A

that my …” If he didn’t let her go, her heartwould rocket out of her chest on its way to the moon. “My angel has a rather large behind. Look at that.” She bent down, moving out of his grasp, cupping her hands around the grassy impression of her derriere.
    “Seems fine to me.” He winked, and she almost swooned. “It’s just where you pushed down to get up.” He hovered his hand over the grass, a grin on his lips. “See?”
    See? Oh, she was seeing …
    Susanna pressed her palm against her forehead. “The garden … We should get back to the garden.”
    “The job is yours,” he said, low, sincere.
    “You don’t know my price. You haven’t seen any drawings.”
    “I don’t have to know, Susanna. I trust you.”
    A pair of red birds flitted about in a black cherry tree while a couple of cherry-toting squirrels plunged their faces into the grass, storing up for the coming winter.
    “You can’t keep doing this, Nate.” She sighed and headed for the veranda. Based on what she knew of the Ocean Boulevard homes, she’d worked up a rough estimate after work last night.
    “Doing what?”
    “Rescuing me.”
    “I protest.” He followed her, arms wide. “I’m doing no such thing.”
    “You feel sorry for me.” The truth escaped, smacking her heart.
    “Sorry for you?” He dropped to a wicker chair. “No, Suz. Not for you.” The sparkle faded from his eyes as he stared over the garden. “I don’t feel sorry for you.” He shifted his gaze to her. “I envy you.”
    “Envy me? You want to run the kitchen tonight while I toothbrush bathroom tile?” How could he envy her?
    “Tonight?” His countenance sparked.
    “Oh, yeah.” Susanna perched on the edge of her chair. “Mama called this morning. Said she’d put you on the schedule. I told heryou were some kind of government official from Brighton and she had no right to schedule you just because you volunteered once.”
    “Volunteered? I was told I’d get a paycheck.” He tapped the table. “I deserve it. I worked hard last night.”
    “Mama said government officials, of all people, need to see how hard a man works to get a decent wage.”
    “She’s right. I’ll be there.”
    “Okay, but be warned—she’ll have you cleaning out the trash bins or Cloroxing mold from seedy, hidden places.”
    Nate leaned forward with arms on his thighs. “I’ll scrub mold if you’ll design my garden.”
    “Sorry, bubba, but working at the Shack isn’t part of my negotiating. Besides, you don’t even know if I’m a good architect, Nate.” Truth nailed down some of her early morning excitement. “You barely know me.”
    “Then why do I feel as if I do?”
    “Hero complex?”
Ha
. But he didn’t laugh. He studied her as an easy breeze dropped by, scenting the porch with morning fragrances, and listened in on their words.
    “I watched you work last night, Suz. You’re the boss’s daughter but you gave your all. You made everyone feel like a part of the team. Even me. You didn’t ask them to do anything you weren’t willing to do yourself. They respect you because you’re a woman of integrity. That’s how I know you’ll design a lovely garden.”
    “You saw all of that on a five-hour shift?”
    “It’s amazing what we can see when we take the time to look.”
    She surveyed the garden again, then Nate. “I’ll do it.”
    He smiled. “Good. I knew you’d see reason.”
    “Whatever, wise guy.” She took her sketch pad and pencils from her satchel. “But we’re dickering over the price and signing a contract—the whole shooting match.” She passed over the rough estimate she’d prepared.
    Nate flipped back through the pages. “Are you sure you’re charging enough?”
    “Nate, I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to dicker down, not up.” Susanna positioned herself on the top porch step and made her first mark on the pristine page, noting the pockets of shade in contrast to the pockets of sun, imagining all the personalities of