Page 42 of That Prince is Mine
“Yes, sorry. In half a mile.” Emma sighed. “I don’t know if I want to play this game anymore.”
“Why not?” Checking that Sophie was right behind them, Michel exited the freeway with some harrowing lane changes.
“I don’t know.” She should be happy she got further confirmation that they’d led completely different lives. But Michel seemed to have missed out on so many of life’s simple pleasures that her heart ached a little. “I think it’s safe to assume that you haven’t tried anything I’ve done in LA.”
“Well, isn’t that a good thing? We have so much to experience together for the first time. People who’ve led similar lives with similar experiences miss out on the thrill of discovering new things together—experiencing each other’s firsts together.” He sent a meaningful glance her way as they turned onto Mulholland Drive.
She’d never thought of it that way. That a shared experience could be more memorable. That a different background could sometimes be a good thing. Unwilling to concede the point, she mumbled, “Hmm.”
After a stretch of silence, Michel asked hesitantly, “May I ask why… why you want a perfect-on-paper husband? Why common background and data-based compatibility are so important to you?”
“I don’t want what happened to my parents to happen to me.” She tried to sound matter-of-fact, but her voice shook a little. “They fell in love and got married even though they were incompatible in many ways. When they fell out of love, their marriage just… crumbled. They became strangers to each other.”
“But there are people—”
“I know some people find love and happily ever after. But not everyone.” She sighed and looked unseeingly out her window. “I’m just not willing to take that risk with my heart. I don’t need a broken heart to set me back from achieving my dreams.”
Michel’s hands clenched on the steering wheel, then relaxed as he exhaled a long breath. “And what dreams are those?”
“I want to open up a culinary school.” She smiled, glad to move on from the uncomfortable topic. “I can’t take many clients, because I can only teach one-on-one lessons in my home kitchen. But if I lease a commercial kitchen space and start a culinary school, then I could take so many more students. Touch so many more lives.”
“You really love what you do, don’t you?” His voice sounded faraway, as though he was deep in thought.
“Yes, I really do.” If she meant that, she should try harder to prove their incompatibility. She should be impatient to return to her arranged first dates so she could ensure that she could open her culinary school as soon as possible. But even that reminder wasn’t enough to fire up the necessary urgency.
“I’m sure I’ve done things that you haven’t tried.” Michel spoke up suddenly with boyish excitement. “Not specific to Los Angeles, of course.”
“Like what?” Her ears and curiosity perked up.
He seemed distracted by the winding road for a moment. “Have you ever done archery?”
“Archery?” He had her there, but she wasn’t ready to admit it. “I dressed up as Legolas for Halloween when I was in eighth grade. Does that count?”
“Legolas?”
“Oh God.” She grabbed her forehead. “Please don’t tell me you haven’t read and/or watched The Lord of the Rings.”
“Okay. I won’t tell you.” He smirked. “But we’re talking about things you haven’t done, remember?”
“Fine, I haven’t done archery before.” This wasn’t as fun when he was the one pointing out the things she’d missed out on.
“How about horseback riding? Wait.” His eyebrows furrowed. “Is there anywhere to go horseback riding in Los Angeles?”
“Of course there is.” She had a friend who grew up in a house in Rolling Hills with an actual stable. “There’s a city about twenty miles south of LA that has a famous bridle trail.”
“And?”
“And what?” she stalled, but he pressured her with his silence. “Okay, okay. I haven’t gone horseback riding either. Wait! I rode on a pony when I was in preschool. I don’t remember it very well, but there’s a picture of me riding one, with a cowboy hat and everything. That counts, right?”
“Hmm.” He pretended to consider her question. “Did the pony move at any point you were on it?”
“As a matter of fact, it did,” she said triumphantly. “The handler walked the pony in a little circle around the playground.”
“All right. Let’s say that counts.” He shot her a playful grin.
“There’s no let’s say about it.” She crossed her arms. She didn’t know why she was adamantly arguing something that proved they had something in common. “That totally counts.”
“But I do think you would enjoy a real ride.” Before she could think of a smart-ass response, Michel inhaled sharply. “Mon Dieu. This is stunning.”
