Page 55 of Princessa
Chapter 30
Whenever I heard someone say, “When you know, you know,” as it applied to meeting the supposed love of their life, I’d scoff and roll my eyes, unconvinced it lacked a grain of truth.
Yet after the weeks I’d spent with Arabella, I laughed at the irony.
Because, there I was,knowingthat I’d found the love of my life.
And near the end of our trip to Castle Primo, I wanted to sing it from a rooftop.
She wanted kids. Lots of them. A prerequisite buried deep down that I never really new mattered to me.
Watching her cradle Baby Amelia worked an emotional number on my heart—and a myriad of all the wonderful possibilities flashed through my mind.
Us. A house full of kids. A house full of love.
We’d spent the rest of the afternoon at Castle Primo, eating a freshly prepared lunch with the kids, touring the sacred grounds, visiting the school as they were having English lessons, and chatting with Sister Roberta about upcoming adoptions. One thing about the orphanage: the children there, who usually came from Barcelona or France, never stayed too long—always being adopted out to their forever homes no more than six months post arrival. Andorra was full of family-oriented people, eager to welcome more to their families.
Following a quick game of soccer with the kids, Arabella and I said our goodbyes. She caught me by surprise at how knowledgeable she was at the game, kicking off her heels, running around with bare feet. The kids, and the nuns, quickly grew fond of her, all telling her to please come back soon.
That evening, Finn and Camille made plans to have dinner then see a movie. It was pretty obvious those two were a couple and even though they invited us along, we wanted to give them time alone. So, Arabella and I decided to chill at the cottage, convinced we’d be able to prepare dinner together. Household staff always kept my fridge stocked; for moments I felt like a wanna-be culinary genius.
Diamond joined us in the kitchen, chasing one of the many mouse toys I’d bought her. She looked like a feline hockey player sliding around, slamming into walls and cabinets as she used her front paws to push the toy around like a puck.
“We’ve got boneless chicken thighs, russet potatoes, shredded lettuce, cucumbers, and tomatoes.” I set the food on the kitchen counter. “We can make baked chicken and potatoes with a salad on the side?”
Arabella blinked, long lashes fanning her face. “And byweyou mean…”
“You assist while I do the heavy lifting.”
“Deal.”
Setting out a baking dish, I asked Arabella to peel and slice the potatoes after my food-network-style demonstration. “See? It’s not as hard as you thought.”
“Well, I’m itching to know how you learned to cook.”
“My mother. Remember when I mentioned she used to come in here after she had a tough day or whenever she and my dad had a disagreement?”
Arabella sliced through a potato and nodded while I seasoned the chicken.
“Well, sometimes I’d join in and help her cook—I was quite the mama’s boy during my younger years. Chicken, fish, Spanish rice. You name it, I helped out and learned a woman-pleasing craft along the way.” I wiggled my brows. “You know women tend to have a thing for men who know their way around a kitchen.”
Her sexy-ass laugh filled the room. “Yes, I agree. Snagging a man who can cook, is usually number three on a woman’s wishlist.”
So easily, she walked right into my next question. “And what’s number one and two on a woman’s wishlist?”
Arabella flushed, eyes avoiding mine as she busied herself with the knife.Slice. Slice. Slice.“You know…handsome…large p—” she broke off, the rest of the word highly inaudible.
“Penis, sweetheart? Number two is a largepenis?” I enunciated it on purpose, enjoying how her cheeks brightened, the wide-eyed bashful expression on her face. She looked as though she wanted to find a hole, crawl in it, and hide.
“Yes, a large penis.” She giggled, head lowered in shame, as if saying the P-word aloud was taboo, making her a hell-bound heathen.
“Well, I don’t have a largepenisso…” A playful smirk pulled on my lips as I stepped over to the sink to wash my hands.
“I beg to differ,” she huffed out, chin tilted up in defiance. “Your penis happens to beverylarge.”
I crept up behind her, arms around her waist, my mouth grazing the shell of her ear. “I have a cock, baby. I never use the word penis and I suggest you don’t either. Real men have cocks.”
She snorted. “Okay fine, from now on, I’ll say…” She hesitated. “Cock.”
