Charmed By The Mountain Prince(24)

So yeah, she complained about a refrigerator, but I recognize that she wasn’t making some crazy ass demands.

Clenching my jaw, I wonder how the fuck I’m supposed to bridge this gap with her. One thing I know: I’ve done a terrible job of it so far.

I decide to head into town and grab some food—and, more importantly, a few beers. And I hope to find Iris there.

Walking down the well-worn path toward the village square, I run into Thomas again, heading back to town with his wagon full of produce.

“Want a ride?” he asks.

The thing I love about Thomas, and lots of the guys like him in town, is that there’s no pretense with them. He sees me as an equal, because I’ve made my life as his neighbor, one of the people of Alpinweiss, not a high-rise politician.

“Sure. Your wagon working out okay today?”

“You want to talk about my wagon? I heard you got yourself married, Garrick. Where’s the wife?”

“She’s in town.”

“Oh yeah. Everyone in town is talking about you guys. We had no idea our prince was ready to walk down the aisle.”

“Why don’t you keep your eyes on the road, Thomas?” I say, trying to change the subject, and not really wanting to talk about Iris and me, what we are and what we clearly aren’t.

“Suit yourself, Prince. You sure aren’t like any prince I’ve ever heard of.”

“You run into that many princes?”

Of course Thomas hasn’t. He’s a man in his sixties, who’s been trekking his fresh produce back and forth from his farm to the village market every day of his life. He’s the sort of man Alpinweiss is made of. Not like me, and especially not like my father. While we have to work, we don’t have to put food on the table. We don’t have to sacrifice.

I feel sick, thinking about how everything I have has been handed to me. How I wish I could do more, be more. Be a better man.

“Oh, you’re right, I haven’t run into any other princes. Your parents okay with their prince living in the mountains with the new princess?”

“Okay with it?” I shake my head, running my hand over my jaw. “Hell, no. They have all sorts of ideas about Iris and me. Iris probably has all sorts of ideas about us, too. But you know me.”

“Yes, I do know you. You do everything however you damn well please, ever since you built the cabin and moved out of your parents’ castle.” Thomas clucks his tongue. “I must say, you’re the only man in the world who would give up the palace for creaky floorboards and a woodstove.”

“I love those floorboards.” I grin, knowing Thomas has been up to my place enough times over the years, helping me out with cleaning something we’ve hunted, or clearing my traps. I’ve made a point to help him out also, to lend a hand in his fields or his son’s fields. Thomas’s farm is mostly run by his son these days.

“You may love those floorboards but I’m surprised that a woman could live up there with you. This princess must be pretty special.”

“Iris isn’t your average princess.” I don’t know why I say it, like I want to defend Iris’s personality. Like I don’t want Thomas to question my wife, question my marriage.

“Well, then you have the right woman for you. I don’t think any average princess would be able to hack it with a man as stubborn and self-reliant as you.”

“You can just stop right here,” I tell him, pointing to the pub down the block.

“You going drinking without your wife after you’ve been married just one day? I don’t think that’s how it’s supposed to work, Prince.”

“I don’t care how it’s supposed to work, Thomas. I do things however I like, whenever I like. And right now, I need a drink.”

“Suit yourself. And Garrick,” he adds. “If you need any help with the floorboards, let me know.”



As I’m sitting down with a drink, the bartender, Kurt, asks if I’d like a whiskey to chase it.

“What do you think?” I ask my old friend.

“I think you do. Everyone in town is talking about you today.”

“Oh, yeah? And what are they saying?”

Working in a pub, Kurt knows all the gossip in a village like this, where beer and pretzels are the bread-and-butter of this town.

“They’re saying you got married yesterday, didn’t invite a lick to the wedding. Not even us, the people who are here for you day and night, pouring your beer, making your bread, washing your underwear. I think some people are pretty upset with you, especially since you’re touted as the people’s prince and all.”

“Fuck, the last thing anyone wants to do is come to a Royal wedding. I agreed to an arranged marriage—and hell, my parents delivered. But I’m not going to stand up in some fancy-ass suit like a clown just so people can look at me. I don’t do that shit.”