Page 55 of The Love Losers

Look at him, being cute again. The more time I spend with him, the better I see through his layers, or maybe it’s that the fire inside of him—barely a spark the afternoon we met—is getting brighter and stronger. When he gave me that tour the other night, it was practically roaring, glowing through his chest.

“Are you going to read me handwritten poetry while I ride?”

His lips hitch up. “I don’t want to torment you. I was going for impressive.”

Jeeves steps forward andbows.

“He’s in the community theater,” Anthony says in an undertone that Jeeves can probably hear.

But the older man doesn’t react at all as he says, “Would you like me to assist you in mounting the unicorn, Princess Rosie?”

He’s already moved a small wooden step-stool up next to the horse.

“I’ll do that,” Anthony says, and as soon as I climb onto the stool, he lifts me up by the waist, his strong hands wrapped around me.

I settle into the saddle, feeling a bit bewildered and lost, like I thought I was in one kind of story and found myself in another one entirely.

I’m not the woman who gets the guy.

I’m the side thought, the unknowing temptation.

I look down at Anthony; he looks up at me, and the feeling of longing that washes over me is so potent and consuming I almost fall off my unicorn.

“Thank you, Prince Anthony,” I finally say, trying to pour what I’m feeling into my smile. “This already feels like another bucket list moment. Will you be riding with me?”

“Of course.”

“Ah, about that, Master Smith,” Jeeves says, his brow furrowing like he’s about to deliver unsettling news. “Mirabel went on a walkabout this morning, and she still hasn’t beenfound. And the couple who are riding our horses left early this morning and haven’t returned. They’re quite late.” Anthony looks displeased, maybe even pissed, so I’m not surprised when Jeeves hastens to add, “But you can ride with Princess Rosie, of course. Sweetcheeks can carry two riders for shorter distances.”

Anthony’s gaze darts to mine, his head tilted. Heat flashes through me as I give him a nod. “Yes. I want you to come. Riding a unicorn is much cooler if other people witness you doing it.”

He nods and then climbs onto the horse behind me, Sweetcheeks barely acting as if she’s noticed.

I’venoticed.

His body is engulfing mine, his thighs locked around mine, one arm wrapped around my waist like he’s claiming me. He takes her reins from me, our hands brushing. “Are you ready?” he asks, his voice at my ear, and I sayyes, even though I don’t really know what question I’m answering.

But Sweetcheeks has barely made it a step before I place a palm on Anthony’s thigh. “Wait.”

“What is it?” he asks softly, his voice vibrating through me.

“We need a picture. Jeeves, will you immortalize this moment for us?”

Jeeves hurries forward to take my phone. His finger is flying, bless him, so I know I’ll have plenty of gold to mine. When he gives it back, I start scrolling through them, aware of Anthony watching over my shoulder. The first couple make me bite back a laugh. In one, my eyes are closed, and in the other, Anthony looks like he’s holding back a sneeze. Then I get to the third, and I reflexively squeeze the phone more tightly in my hand, like I’m afraid someone’s going to take it away from me. Anthony and I are both grinning, his arms wrapped around me, while Sweetcheeks lifts her head regally. We look happy. We look like a couple.

“Are the photos quite all right?” Jeeves asks nervously, like a man who knows what it feels like to have his ass handed to him by a bunch of dissatisfied rich people.

“They’re perfect.” My voice comes out a little hoarse as I tuck away my phone.

“Yes, thank you, Jeeves,” Anthony says, sounding surprisingly collected, but after Sweetcheeks takes a few steps along the path leading from the stables, he leans in closer, his lips nearly brushing my ear and asks, “Will you send me a copy of that later?”

I grin at him over my shoulder. “I’ll send you all of them.”

The path is lined with…well, not a whole hell of a lot, to be honest, itiswinter. Now that we’re out here, the ribbons in Sweetcheeks’s white hair catch the sun. Her horn is opalescent like the saddle. And the chilly wind isn’t cutting at all, because I’m surrounded by Anthony’s heat. His arm tightens around me slightly as our unicorn stoops for a bite of mostly dead grass.

I turn slightly to get a glimpse of his dark hair, the slope of his cheekbones. “Anthony…this is…I don’t have words for it. Thank you.”

It’s the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for me, is what it is. I lean back into him as Sweetcheeks moves us along. Anthony smells good too, probably because he has on some four-figure cologne with notes of bergamot and other things I can’t pronounce.

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