Page 10 of A Princess for Christmas

Sighing, he tossed the phone through the partition.

A few minutes later, she was reading aloud from Eldovia’s Wikipedia entry. “‘Though not diversified, Eldovia’s economy is robust. It is dominated by manufacturing—of luxury watches primarily, but also of power tools.’”

He chuckled. Power tools and Rolexes? Maybe this woman’s huge watch was a homegrown specialty.

“Then there’s a whole bunch of stuff about winter tourism, but it all says ‘Citation needed.’” Gabby laughed. “I could totally update this right now. I’d be like, ‘Source: Actual princess of country.’”

Gabby chattered happily for a while, not noticing that the princess was growing increasingly agitated. She was trying to hide it—she had her right hand resting over the watch on her left arm, and she’d shift to the side and subtly peek at it from time to time.

Leo should keep his mouth shut. Gabby was happy—and talking, which was a minor miracle. But eff him if he didn’t suddenly want this princess chick to be happy and talking, too. “You gonna do any New York Christmasy stuff while you’re here? Skating at Rockefeller Center?”

She looked startled. “No. I don’t think so.”

“Not a skater?”

“Actually, I’m quite a good skater. I just don’t think I . . . will have time.”

“Too busy yachting?” He said it teasingly this time.

She smiled, but it was a pathetic one. “Something like that.”

A sad princess to go with the sad king?

Well. Not his problem. He turned south on Sixth Avenue, reasoning that he might be able to shave a few minutes off their trip if he wound his way through Greenwich Village—he knew its maze of nonstandard streets like the back of his hand. Her Most Royal Prissiness didn’t know what good service she was getting here.

Soon enough, they were crossing the West Side Highway with five minutes to spare. He slowed to a halt as they reached the end of the road. You couldn’t drive right up to the docks from here, so she would have to walk the rest of the way.

As Leo watched the princess heave a shaky breath before getting out—he would have thought, given how impatient she’d been, that she’d have leapt out of the car—he realized she was not looking forward to this party.

“We’ll walk you the rest of the way.” He got out and opened the back door for Gabby. Max barked. “Not you.” But then he rethought that. There was a little circular park ahead of them, and the beast could pee there. “All right. Come on, everybody.”

He leashed the dog, locked the car, prayed his illegal parking job wouldn’t earn him a ticket, and they set out, walking briskly.

“I don’t have any money,” Princess Marie said, loping along beside him. “But do you have a card with your direction? I will ensure that you’re compensated.”

Your direction?What century was this woman living in? “There’s no need to pay me.” Though if he got a ticket, he was totally sending it to her. So he took the card she produced fromthe world’s tiniest purse, a diamond-encrusted thing that dangled from a strap around her wrist.

He didn’t like the idea of her alone in New York with no money. “Do you have a credit card?”

She shook her head. “I wasn’t planning... I just have my phone.”

He heard what she wasn’t saying. She wasn’t a person who normally had to sully herself by carrying cash or credit cards.

They’d reached the park. He handed Max’s leash to Gabby and pointed down the path to where a big boat was visible. “Gabby, make sure Max pees. I’ll be over there, and then I’ll be right back.”

“Bye!” Gabby’s farewell was drowned out by a foghornlike noise. Despite being dragged out to Long Island on the reg by Dani, Leo didn’t know boats. But to him, that sounded like the kind of noise a really big boat might make before it departed.

Marie must have thought so, too, because she squeaked in protest and started jogging.

He matched his pace to hers, even as he dug in his pocket for a card. He carried cards with his cell number on them. He had a handful of regulars—passengers he’d hit it off with and who called him personally when they needed a ride.

He hadnothit it off with the princess, but he pushed a card into her hand anyway. “You call me if you need a ride home or if you get into any trouble.”

“Thank you.” It was more breath than words—she was panting from the running.

“You know which boat it is?” he asked.

“It’s calledLovely Lucrecia.”

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