‘But I locked it.’
‘You need to remember to use the deadbolt.’
She sighed. ‘An alarm system? I’d better put it on the list.’
She bustled about making coffee. She eyed the jar of instant he’d bought with distaste. ‘Would you like another?’
‘No, thanks.’
‘Why didn’t you make yourself a proper coffee? It’s worth the effort, you know.’
‘That coffee is yours.’
Very slowly she turned. ‘And I’m guessing there’s milk in the fridge with your name on it too and sugar in the cupboard?’
He shifted. ‘People can get funny about things like that.’
She pointed her teaspoon at him. ‘Let’s get one thing clear right now.’ She raised her voice to be heard above the gurgling of the percolator. ‘You’re welcome to help yourself to tea, coffee, bread, biscuits and whatever else is in the pantry while you’re working. And—’ she thrust out her jaw ‘—if I feel like having instant coffee I mean to help myself to your jar. You have a problem with that?’
He grinned. ‘None at all, Princess.’
‘Hmph.’ She made coffee, sipped it and closed her eyes as if it were the first chance she’d had to relax all day. He wondered again what she’d been up to—hobnobbing with society types hoping to find an investor or three?
‘Oh, I meant to ask. Is that your car out front?’
‘Yup.’
‘There’s room to park it in the garage if you want.’
‘There’s a garage?’
‘Come with me.’
With coffee cup in hand, she led him out into the garden. About halfway between the house and the cottage she veered left. Hidden behind strategically placed trees and shrubs squatted a substantial wooden building with three large wooden doors. She walked across to the cast iron fence, fitted a key into the lock and slid the fence back. The fence slid along on a kind of roller. From the footpath it’d be impossible to see that this part of the fence also acted as a gate.
‘I had no idea this was here.’ And he must’ve walked past this section of fence a hundred times. He turned to survey the garage. ‘What did that used to be?’
‘The stables, once upon a time.’ She slid the gate shut again. It barely made a sound. ‘They were converted eons ago, which is why the gate and the garage doors aren’t automatic. Maybe down the track. Mind you, these big old doors have a certain charm I’d be loath to trade in merely for the sake of convenience.’
She took a sip of coffee. ‘This bay here is free.’ She lifted a latch and walked backwards until the door stood wide open.
He entered. And then stopped dead. A van, a bit like the ice cream vans that had done the rounds of the neighbourhood during the summers of his childhood, stood in the next bay along. Only, instead of ice creams, the van’s sides were decorated with cupcakes. ‘Candy’s Cupcakes’ was written in swirly pastel lettering.
He turned back to her, folded his arms and leant against the doorframe. ‘Your business is obviously bigger than I thought.’
She drained her coffee. ‘Yes.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
For a moment her gaze rested on his shoulders. She shook out her arms as if an itch had started up inside her. His heart started pounding to a beat as old as time then too. He gritted his teeth. He and the Princess were not going to dance that particular tango. ‘Nell?’
She jumped. ‘Sorry, I—’
She averted her face, but that didn’t hide the colour on her cheekbones. Rick gritted his teeth harder.
‘Sorry.’ She turned back. ‘I’m tired. Concentration is shot.’ She gestured to the van. ‘Everyone expects me to fail. Some have said so outright. Some have laughed as if it’s a joke. Others have smiled politely while raising sceptical eyebrows. I don’t need that kind of negativity in my life.’
‘And you thought I’d react that way.’
She met his gaze. ‘You did.’
‘I...’
‘You thought my little cupcake business was limited to a few deliveries on the weekend and nothing more. You didn’t even begin to entertain the idea that I might also work Monday to Friday. But I do. I have a weekly schedule and I head out in Candy for the CBD to take cupcakes and coffee to the masses.’ She lifted a shoulder and let it drop. ‘Or, at least, to office workers. You won’t believe the number of people who now treat themselves to a weekly cupcake for morning or afternoon tea.’
Wow.
‘I thought you’d know better than to pigeonhole me like you did.’
Everything inside him stilled.
‘You’ve been in jail. I know what people say about you. They think once a criminal always a criminal. They think a man like you can’t be trusted and is only out for whatever he can get. And they’re still going to think that when your name’s cleared because it doesn’t change the fact that you were in prison.’
Each word was a knife to the sorest part of him.
‘I haven’t treated you like that.’
She hadn’t, but he kept waiting for her to. His stomach started to churn. That was hardly fair, though, was it? She’d shown him nothing but...friendship.
‘I also happen to know what people think of me—the pampered society princess who has never had to lift a finger one day in her life.’ She strode over and stabbed a finger to his shoulder. ‘Well, I’m not useless and I’m not a failure and I’m not...I’m not useless!’
He grabbed the finger that kept jabbing at him and curled his hand around it. ‘You’re not useless, Princess. You’re amazing. Completely amazing and I’m sorry I misjudged you.’
She tried to tug her hand free but he wouldn’t let her. ‘You really are skint?’
She stopped struggling to frown at him. ‘Yes.’
‘Yet amid all of your own troubles you’ve found the time to help me.’
‘Help or hound?’
He chuckled and a warmth he’d never experienced washed over him. ‘Thank you for cleaning my cottage.’
‘You’re welcome.’
God, such vulnerability in those wide green eyes, such softness and sweetness beckoned in those lips. She smelt like sugar and frosting and all the things he’d ever longed for. An ache gripped him so hard he had to drag in a breath. ‘Princess...’ The endearment scraped out of him, raw with
