Stuck With The Four Hotties

“I figured you’d be the head chef, and I’d be your sous chef. After all, I don’t mind a little power play. Tame me, mistress.” He kisses me so softly that I almost wonder if I imagine it, pulling back, and then digging into the pocket of his white shorts for a pair of new panties that he cucks my way. These one says PrinFess on the cheeks. My eyes narrow to slits. “Now, you promised you’d go commando if I brought these along. And remember, those were your rules: no lies.”

“Hah.” I flip him off and put the panties in my room, coming back to the kitchen to find Wind in Dad’s apron, pouring a generous glass of cider and taking a sip. He sighs, and then pours a second glass to take outside to Charlie. When he comes back in and closes the sliding door against the heat, I give him a look. “You ready to work? Because good food doesn’t make itself, despite what you may have thought growing up. People actually work behind the scenes in those kitchens.”

“No, you don’t say,” Windsor says, narrowing his eyes on me in challenge. “You know I never back down from a fight. Direct me, milady.”

We work together to chop all the good stuff-potatoes, mushrooms, celery, onions, carrots, garlic, rosemary, thyme, and tomatoes-and then work on getting it all in a pot to simmer. After that, we have a little while to relax, and Dad’s now on the phone with his friend, Mack, from college, so we head into my room and Windsor immediately makes himself comfortable on my bed.

He pats the spot next to him, and even though I’m not entirely sure this is a good idea, I sit down.

He sweeps an arm around my waist, and nuzzle up against my back.

“Thank you for having me over all the time, crashing your personal time with Dad.” He says the words against my bare skin, his lips moving sensually against that little bare stripe of flesh between the top of my sweatpants and the bottom of my tank top.NôvelDrama.Org owns © this.

“Is there a reason you like coming over here?” I ask, wondering if he’s like Tristan, escaping an abusive parent or something.

Windsor sits up, propping himself on an elbow, and looking at me from irises flecked with gold, green, silver, brown, and amber. It’s like all the colors in the world are contained in those eyes.

“I just like spending time with you,” he tells me, and my heart thumps so violently it feels like I might have hiccups. “And I like your dad. Mine’s dead. I miss him sometimes.” Wind pauses and then sits up, pulling me into the circle of his arms until we’re cuddled together in a way that Charlie might not appreciate if he were to show.

Still … it feels so good, I tell myself just another minute or two can’t hurt. When Dad gets on the phone with Mack, they can talk for hours sometimes.

“You brought your suitcase with you,” I say, and feel Windsor smiling against my neck.

“I’m going to stay at that awful B&B again, the haunted one with the bad customer service.”

“They don’t have bad customer service, they just don’t kiss,” I say, feeling an irritational need to defend the Bayside Bed and Breakfast against this spoiled little rich kid. “But the ghost thing, that’s true. In 1902, a woman-” Windsor turns my head just enough that he can lean forward and kiss me over my shoulder, dropping both of his hands to my breasts and squeezing them just hard enough to make me moan.

He moves back suddenly, releasing me and exhaling sharply, like even he wasn’t quite aware of what he was doing.

“Bloody fucking hell, Zack’s right. You start talking historical facts, and it’s just … it must be the passion in your voice.” For once in his life, Windsor sounds a bit startled.

“Wind,” I start, because my heart is aching. I turn around to look at him, and I see it. It’s been there this whole time, from moment one. He’s been my friend since he set foot on the academy campus, but he’s also had a crush on me. A real one. “Are you even allowed to date to peasant girls?”

He raises a red brow and then reaches out to stroke some of my hair back.

“I told you: I’m probably the least obligated boy you’re dating right now.

Milady, consider it: marry me.”

“Stop joking around,” I say, slapping him in the chest and sighing. “Even if I were interested in marrying someone, someday, I’m going to college first. Bornstead, if I can.”

“I’ll have my mother write you a recommendation letter,” Windsor says absently, but even though I get really excited at the prospect, I’m not sure I can accept that. No, I want to accomplish this on my own merit. Wind pauses and seems to notice the expression on my face. “Or at the very least, let me help pay for your schooling. Your mind is beyond brilliant, love.” He reaches out and touches a finger to the center of my forehead. “You’ll do great things one day.”

I smile, and then hear the sound of the glass lid on the pot clinking, pushing up from the bed to go and check on it.

After the stew’s done, Windsor and I sit outside with Charlie, and I very casually suggest that the prince stay the rest of the week with us, so we can all go fishing together, and maybe try another round of bowling. Wind says he likes a challenge, right? My dad is boss when it comes to bowling.

Oddly enough, Charlie agrees (although the open door rule still applies), and Wind blends so seamlessly into our little family, that I almost forget I have four other boyfriends waiting for me back a

t Burberry Prep.

Almost. All of them head over heels.