should she? Everyone comes to her. If it’s not a messenger service arriving two and three times a day, it’s the phone ringing at all hours. I feel like I’m living in a hotel. A man can barely get a decent meal these days.’’
Betty raised her eyebrows as she placed his steaming breakfast in front of him. It was just past six in the morning, but she’d already prepared him eggs, bacon and pancakes. ‘‘Are you complaining about my cooking?’’
‘‘No.’’ He wasn’t going to get Betty annoyed with him. He’d done that a couple of times before and had suffered through a series of vegetarian casseroles and tofu stir-fries until he’d had the good sense to apologize.
‘‘I didn’t think so.’’ She poured herself coffee and settled in the seat opposite his. ‘‘I don’t see what the problem is. Princess Alexandra is a wonderful young woman. I’m proud to know her.’’
‘‘Good for you.’’
Nothing was going the way it was supposed to, he thought glumly. He’d hoped that by avoiding the woman in question, he would forget about his attraction to her. Unfortunately, not physically being in the same room wasn’t enough. He caught glimpses of her from time to time. On a working ranch where everyone wore jeans and sensible boots, including Betty, Alex dressed in silk shirts and long, swaying skirts. When he couldn’t see her, he could hear her voice. When he couldn’t hear her, he could smell her. That damn perfume of hers permeated the house like a stink bomb. The sweet scent was everywhere. If he didn’t know better, he would swear that Betty was washing his sheets in the damn stuff.
He was spending so much time trying not to think about her that she ended up being the only thing he did think about. He was thirty-three years old, and he had it worse than he’d ever had it at seventeen.
‘‘I think Princess Alexandra is doing her best to fit in,’’ Betty said. ‘‘After all, this is her first trip to our country. We should try to make her feel at home.’’
‘‘No one has to try to do anything. She’s at home, all right. She’s the one running the show around here.’’
‘‘If you have a complaint, you should take it up with Princess Alexandra directly.’’
He slammed his mug onto the table and ignored the coffee that sloshed over onto his hand. ‘‘Would you stop calling her that!’’
‘‘What?’’ Betty was innocence personified. In a pig’s eye, he thought.
‘‘Princess Alexandra. She wants to be called Alex.’’
‘‘I like her title. She doesn’t mind that I use it, so you shouldn’t, either.’’
‘‘You’re only doing it to bug me.’’
Betty smiled. ‘‘Maybe, but only because you’ve earned it. If you have any beefs, why don’t you take them up directly with her?’’
He picked up a fork and stabbed his steaming eggs. ‘‘Alex is imperious, snotty, bossy and always expects to get her way. Look at what she has you cooking for her. What was that thing you made for lunch yesterday?’’
Betty stole a strip of bacon from his plate and munched on it. ‘‘Salmon with penne pasta in a cream sauce, steamed baby vegetables and crème brûlée for dessert. Speaking of dessert, I saw you ate two, so don’t try to tell me you didn’t like it.’’
‘‘I did like it, but that’s not the point. You’re not her personal chef. You shouldn’t have to spend so much time catering to her.’’
‘‘I enjoy the challenge,’’ Betty said. ‘‘If you had your way, you’d eat steak and baked potatoes every night. How exciting is that?’’
‘‘It’s plain, simple food. Good enough for me and my family. What about the wine? It’s all imported. How much is it costing me?’’
‘‘She brought her own wine with her. As for it being imported, most of it is from California, or so you’d know if you bothered to look instead of casting blame where it doesn’t belong. If you want my opinions, I think she irritates you so much because you’re two peas in a pod.’’
He nearly choked on his mouthful of pancakes. When he’d finished chewing, he swallowed and glared at her. ‘‘What?’’
‘‘You heard me. You think the princess is imperious and wants to get her own way? Well, the only reason you recognize those particular qualities is that you have them yourself. Looking in the emotional mirror is always painful.’’
‘‘I am not imperious,’’ he said loudly. ‘‘I’m a nice guy. Everyone likes me. I do not tell other people what to do.’’
Betty’s only response was to raise her eyebrows.
‘‘I’m very easygoing,’’ Mitch insisted.
‘‘This from a man who got upset because I served him ham on Wednesday instead of Thursday?’’ Her voice was sweetly smug.
‘‘That happened once. It was years ago.’’
‘‘It was last month, and if you want other examples I have dozens.’’
He opened his mouth to respond, but just then he heard footsteps in the hallway. The princess was up and ready for her breakfast.
‘‘Some of us have to work for a living,’’ he said, and tossed his napkin on top of his half-eaten breakfast. He pushed back from the table, then grabbed his hat as he headed for the door.
Betty started laughing. ‘‘I never thought I’d see the day when you were chased out of your own house by a woman, Mitch.’’
‘‘I’m not being chased, I’m leaving.’’
‘‘One day you’ll have to explain the difference,’’ she said with a chuckle.
* * *
Alex heard both laughter and the slamming of the back door as she entered the kitchen. She glanced out the window in time to see Mitch heading for the garage next to the barn. No doubt he would get in his four-wheel-drive truck and be gone for the entire day. For reasons she didn’t quite understand, she had to fight back a sigh of sadness. Foolishly she’d hoped they might have breakfast together this morning. She’d gotten up a little earlier than usual in hopes of catching him. If she didn’t know better, she would say that Mitch Colton was avoiding her.
‘‘Care to share the joke?’’ she asked as she walked over to the counter by the stove and poured herself a cup of coffee.
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