“Come back tomorrow. I’ll be here from 10:00 a.m. until at least five or six.”
“I’ll be here early. I hope you’ll be ready to go.” Before she could object, he raised a hand. “Just in case the evidence is sufficiently persuasive to you. You must be open to that possibility.”
He was a hard man to refuse. “Okay. I’ll try. But I’m not making any guarantees.”
“Very well.” He gave a short bow. “Until tomorrow.” With one last lingering gaze, he turned and left the shop. The driver hopped out of the car to open the door for him, but he waved him off and opened it himself. He looked back at the shop before closing the door behind him, and for one insane moment, Amy wondered if she’d dreamed the whole thing.
Then the wind blew again, pushing the door open. Amy ran to close it. The small spots of cold snow that landed on her skin assured her that she was awake.
She closed the door and turned the dead bolt. How was it she’d managed to forget to do that earlier? She always locked the bolt after she turned the sign to Closed.
She leaned her back against the door and closed her eyes. The only thing wrong with his story—the only part that didn’t tug at her heart—was the part about being royal. If he had come along telling her he had evidence of her biological family and that they lived in Cleveland, she would have been thrilled. But this business of royalty tipped the story into the realm of fairy tale, making it something she couldn’t entirely believe.
Yet…what if it were true? What if the wind outside had brought something magic along with it, something other than snow and power failures?
A handsome stranger.
And her own past.
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