Page 18 of Prince of Her Heart
Unlike Tilda, Ben wasn’t hopping.Or smiling.Or even speaking.
He looked… cautious.Concerned.The lines around his eyes had deepened, and his mouth was tight as he looked between her and Ramzi.
“You proposed?”he asked, his voice low and even.
Oh no.
The bottom dropped out of her stomach.
Ofcourseher dad would see through this.He knew her too well.This was the worst possible way to reveal the “engagement.”She should have waited—taken the ring off, eased into it all with a calm explanation,planned.
But the ring… It had felt so perfect on her hand.
And now?
Now, the neighbors were watching.
Mrs.Harmon across the street had stopped mid-watering her roses, garden hose forgotten in her hand.Mr.Dobbins, two doors down, was “checking the mail,” even though everyone knew he got his mail after dinner.And Carol-Anne—sweet, relentless, gossip-loving Carol-Anne—was already snapping photos from behind her azaleas.
The Hendersonville rumor mill wasn’t a mill.
It was a damnrocket launcher.
“Dad, I know you would have preferred Ramzi to—”
“I’ve got this, Tabitha,” Ramzi interrupted gently.
He turned to her father, his expression cool and serious.“Mr.Jones, may I have a private word with you?”
Ben looked at his daughter, then back to Ramzi, studying him.
“Of course,” he said after a pause.He turned and started toward the back of the house, toward his woodworking shed.
Ramzi gave Tabitha a reassuring smile, then bent down and lifted her hand, brushing a kiss across her knuckles.
“Relax, Tabby,” he said, voice teasing, using the nickname only her father ever used.“I’ve got this.”
And just like that, he followed her father.
Right around the house.
With his security team trailing behind him.
Three large, suited bodyguards… in small-town Hendersonville.
Tabitha watched them disappear around the corner, horror bubbling in her chest.
Oh, the neighbors were going tolovethis.
“Tabitha!”her mother called from the porch.“Come inside.I baked cookies for the barbeque this afternoon.You can help me pack them up while you tell meeverythingabout how that gorgeous man of yours proposed.”
Tabitha didn’t move.
Telling her mother that her boss hadtossed her a ringlike a poker chip… wasn’t going to cut it.
Not when Tilda Jones had waited years for this moment.
With a silent groan, Tabitha turned toward the porch, bracing herself for a story she hadn’t yet figured out how to tell.
