Page 68 of A Princess for Christmas

“I was planning a saltbox roof, so there could be a loft in the back.”

“Saltbox,” Leo echoed, rejigging his mental image of the cabin.

“Yes. You Americans are good for something, it turns out.”

A saltbox would mean they’d need to bring the back wall up higher, and that could indeed accommodate a small sleeping loft. It was a good plan. But... “I don’t have time for that. I’m leaving on the twenty-sixth. This is going to have to be quick and dirty.”

“I was using a Scandinavian saddle notch on the logs,” Kai wenton. Ha. He was starting to crack. “That way it won’t need any weatherproofing.”

“Right. I saw that. But I was going to finish it with a dovetail notch.”

“Amateur.” Kai sniffed.

“But much faster.” According to what he’d read, anyway.

“You can’t just change the technique eightypercent of the way through.”

He had the guy. He performed a shrug. “Not ideal, I’ll grant you, but no one will be looking that high up. Most of it will be obscured by the roofline anyway.”

Kai pressed his lips together like he had tasted something unbearably bitter. “I’ll meet you there tomorrow morning. Be prepared to work.”

Leo grinned. “You’ll deal with the logs?”

“I’ll deal with the logs.”

“Thanks, man.” Leo stuck out his hand.

Kai dropped his gaze from Leo’s face to his outstretched hand, made another of his annoyed faces, and turned on his heel.

She was going to do it.

Shewas.

So why was Marie standing outside Leo’s door like she was cowering in front of her father?

She had given a speech at the UN last week, for heaven’s sake, a speech that had gone well enough that the United Nations had invited her to become a goodwill ambassador.

So certainly she could manage a minor personal matter such as this.

Honestly. She and Mr. Benz had spent the morning cooped up with a few allies in parliament trying to communicate the palace’s priorities for the budget bill that would be tabled early in the new year. Then she’d called Max because she was losing her nerve—and at risk of backpedaling—when it came to the goodwill ambassador thing. She’d been hoping a little of his breezy confidence-bordering-on-overconfidence would rub off on her. And he had indeed given her a pep talk.

So she could dothis. This was nothing.

She rapped on Leo’s door.

“Gab.” She heard him sliding the lock open. “Itoldyou I’m gonna take a shower. I’ll come get you when—”

He had opened the door a crack during his little speech, and when he realized it was her and not his sister, he stopped speaking.

“Good evening,” Marie said. She could only see a slice of Leo’s face, but it was enough to register that it was a smirking slice. “May I come in for moment?”

“Sure thing, Your Highest Splendidness.”

When he swung the door open, he was naked but for a towel around his waist.

And a giant grin she was pretty sure the Americans would call “shit-eating.” He waved toward a pair of wingback chairs positioned near the fireplace. “Have a seat.” He overshot the chairs himself, and for a moment she thought he was going to the bathroom to get dressed, but he only grabbed a small box of truffles from the nightstand.

He held them out to her, but she shook her head.

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