Player's Princess (A Royal Sports Romance)(67)

After it's washed, I drive it back to the house and park it just behind the sidewalk, waiting for our quick getaway. Then I shower and change and pace the living room floor, waiting and waiting and waiting for the text that feels like it takes hours to come.

I pace until it feels like my shoes will wear out, and then she texts. She's ready.

The run to her house takes five minutes. By the time I get there, she's already climbing over the fence. She rushes across the street to meet me and almost throws herself into my arms. I grin at her and hold her tight before leading her up the sidewalk.

"Where are we going?"

"It's a surprise," I tell her for the tenth time. She could ask me a thousand more times and I'd never tire of it. I just want to hear her voice.

When we reach the house, I open her door for her. She does this peculiar thing where she sticks her butt in the car first and swivels her legs in when she sits, and then reaches over and unlocks my door without a word.

My dad once told me that was a good sign.

I start her up and pull out, and Ana looks like she wants to ask where we're going but silences herself and instead looks out the window. I take a different route out of town on purpose, to show her new sights.

No matter what, I can't get enough of just watching her as she takes in new things. She's so fascinated by everything. Here I would think the princess would be the worldly one, but just about everything is a source of awe.

"This looks like home," she remarks once we get past the canal.

"Yeah?"

"All the fields and the green."

It's not all green. The leaves are turning, a riot of colors, reds and oranges. I take the old road, US 13, rather than the highway.

"Look," she yells, pointing.

There's a bait shop on the side of the road, maybe fifteen minutes from the canal. They have a fiberglass shark in a big glass tank. Every year in early fall, somebody opens the tank and puts a Santa hat on the shark.

"Pull over," Ana cries, "Pull over!"

She's so enthralled by it, I can't turn her down. I pull off into the gravel lot out front of the bait shop, and Ana jumps out to look at the shark.

I come up behind her, spin her around, and whip out my phone.

"What are you doing?"

She has a funny look on her face in the photo I snap of us, me grinning, clutching her to my side with the shark behind us, his fake sharky grin full of sharp teeth.

"That shark photobombed us."

She laughs. "Wait."

She smiles in her own selfie with me, and smiles again when she looks at the photo.

"Don't put that on your Facebook."

She looks up. "I don't have a Facebook."

"I know, hon. I'm kidding. Come on."

I walk her back to the car, and we start off again. It was an early morning for us, so I let her fall asleep in the seat. The Caddy has seats for sleeping, at least for the passengers. I yawn while I drive, glancing at her every few seconds.

She naturally shifts in the seat until her head is on my shoulder and mumbles in her sleep, in her mother tongue. I have no idea what she is saying, but I don't care; I could listen all day. It almost sounds like singing.

I give her a nudge and wake her up when we get close to town. On a weekend day there would be traffic on the main road backed up for miles. Today we sail through and stop at only a few lights before driving over the canal bridge to head for the boardwalk. I park off Rehoboth Avenue to avoid the parking meters and rush around to open her door.

When Ana steps out, she sniffs the salt air and grins, her eyes lighting up with joy at the familiar scent.

I grab her hood and lift it back over her shoulders.

"No need to hide here."

She shakes her head and her long braid falls loose, hanging down her back. I watch her for a moment, my heart beating a little faster. She finally gives me a little nod, and we start walking.

"I hate making you hide," I tell her. "You're so beautiful."

She turns bright red when she blushes, like sunlight bathing fresh snow. Her appearance is at odds with the beach. My snow maiden.

Arm in arm, I walk her up the sidewalk. There's a greasy-food lunch counter that serves breakfast this early in the morning.

Ana looks over the menu, quietly mouthing the choices to herself before she orders scrambled eggs and cheese on a hoagie roll. I get the same but with bacon and we sit down on one of the benches to eat together, the breeze constantly trying to pluck food from our hands.

A gull comes screeching down and lands in front of us, and circles us on webbed feet. Ana waves at it, amused by its obvious desire for our food. After we finish eating and toss the wrappers, the bird follows us for a while. Or rather, follows her. I think he expects her to feed him. She probably would if she didn't notice the signs warning against it.

I don't want to rush this, so I walk slow. I've seen all this before, many, many times. For Ana it's all new, and the expression on her face shows it. So many things I just took for granted are new in her eyes.

Ana gives me one look as we approach the Christmas store and pulls me inside by the wrist. I always wondered why there's a store that sells Christmas decorations at the beach, but they've been here my whole life.

"I love Christmas," she says as we walk inside.

"What do you do for Christmas, give presents?"