Page 49 of Mistletoe Season
Her attention flew to the mischievous little ginger at the table, taking cash from folks in line with a smile to compete with the best swindler.
Eleven-year-old boys could be incredibly sneaky when they put their minds to it. But though Jay tended toward the rascally side of normal, did he have the power to convince Prince Arran of pie pummeling?
As soon as the little boy’s blue eyes met Charlie’s, his grin spread from one dimple to the other. “You won’t believe it, Miss Charlie. It’s only the first night, and we’ve already raked in over a hundred dollars!”
His announcement paused her inquiry. Over a hundred dollars? In less than two hours? How was that even possible?
Her attention flitted back to Arran. Thankfully, this time the pie only landed on his knee, but the crowd shouted with no less enthusiasm.
“Come on, lad!” Arran shouted to the teenager who’d thrown the pie, his accent curling. “Can’t you do better than that? My knee?”
Charlie’s comment to Jay died on her tongue. Arran was egging on the throwers?
The teen stiffened and rushed back to the table, purchasing another pie.
“See?” Jay said, pointing in Arran’s direction. “He’s been like that from almost the start. Once he realized it brought in more folks.”
“How did you lot best Britain with aim like that?” Arran called back to the crowd, resulting in a mixture of laughter and outcry. “My granny’s got a better arm than the likes of you!”
Charlie was still trying to formulate words in her head. What on earth was happening?
“Hecame up with the idea, Charlie. I promise. Things were going swell before Danny showed up, but once Danny arrived, Arran said we ought to have arealcompetition.”
She blinked from Arran back to Danny. “Competition?”
“You know how the cost is two dollars for a regular throw. Well, Arran suggested we say it’s five dollars to Pie a Prince, and then the extra proceeds can go to The Mistletoe Wish.”
That strategy certainly didn’t fit the Pukey Prince from a few nights ago.
“And he just keeps getting folks riled up enough to come back for more.”
Charlie stared at the prince in question, trying to get her brain to reconcile her assessment of him with this entire scene. “Well, I think it’s time to give the poor man a break, Jay. He’s been at it long enough.”
“Yeah, okay.” Jay looked down longingly at the tin box of money and sighed before returning his attention to Charlie. “I don’t think he’s a real prince, anyway. Real princes don’t do pie-throwing contests.”
Evidently this one does.
She blinked through the thought a few more times.
How could Arran mess with her “prince” assumptions on both ends of the fairy tale? Sloshed Sovereign and Pie Prince? She didn’t know of one fairy tale with that combination. Flynn Rider fromTangledprobably got the closest.
“You throw like a girl, mate. Can’t you do any better?”
She caught her laugh with her palm. Who was this guy?
At that moment, Arran’s gaze found hers and the grin froze on his face.
One of his brows arched.
She steadied her expression, her own brow mirroring his as she stepped forward. “‘Throw like a girl’?” Charlie called above the crowd. “Are you disrespecting women, Your Highness?” The crowd quieted at her words. “Not a very noble trait for a prince.”
His grin fell for only a second before it resurfaced with a glint in his eyes. “Do you plan to prove me wrong, Miss Edgewood?”
An “Oooh!” came from a few folks nearby, encouraging the challenge.
“Oh yeah.” She pinched her lips tight against a laugh. She liked this version of Prince Nosebreaker. “I sure am.”
She reached for a pie on the table, but Arran shook his head. “No cheating, Charlotte.”
