Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 86068 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 430(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86068 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 430(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
The palace comes into view, the impressive gates gleaming in the sunlight, the guards standing stiffly at attention.
“Look at that,” I say, spinning slightly for effect. “Isn’t it incredible?”
“It sure is,” Rhett says, and I can tell he means it. But honestly, I’m more focused on how easy it is to be with him, how natural it feels to share this moment.
“Come on, Sir Rhettimus,” I say, smiling as he hands the cab driver the fare and tells him to keep the change. “Let’s go explore.”
He grins, leaning back slightly, and I feel like maybe we are both thinking the same thing, that the day is far from over, and somehow, it feels like everything is falling perfectly into place.
Chapter Eleven
Rhett
Pippa is almost bouncing on the balls of her feet, craning her neck and scanning beyond the ornate gates into the wide expanse in front of the palace. Her enthusiasm is contagious.
“You look like a kid at a theme park,” I tease.
“I am a kid at a theme park,” she shoots back, grinning her infectious grin. “Except the rides are the guards, horses, and the people taking selfies with the King’s Guard.”
I shake my head indulgently. “Fair enough. What’s the plan? Are we going to do a guided tour, or are we just wandering around like complete tourists?”
She tosses her hair over her shoulder and gestures broadly at the palace. “Wander around first. Absorb the magnificence. Then I’ll educate you.”
“You’re going to educate me?” I echo, arching an eyebrow.
“Yes. Buckingham Palace 101. You clearly need it.” She smirks.
I feel like I’ve signed up for a masterclass in history and charm all in one package.
Pippa takes my arm as we walk along the outer perimeter. The gold detailing on the gates gleams in the bright afternoon sun. Tourists line the perimeter of the palace. Cameras flash, and excited kids tug at their parents’ hands, their eyes wide with awe.
“Imagine living here,” she says dreamily. “All that history. All that marble. Those gates alone must cost ten times the price of my apartment.”
I glance down at her, catching the sparkle in her eyes. “I think the better question is: could you handle it? The guards, the tourists, the endless tours?”
“Obviously,” she says without hesitation, puffing her chest out. “I’d probably make a very charming queen. Queen Pippa. Everyone would love me. All the tea, all the scones, all the royal pomp and circumstance, and I’d do it all while looking effortlessly regal.”
I laugh. “Regal?”
She shoots me a sidelong glance, mock offended. “You’re not a very charming man, are you?”
“No,” I agree. “But you’re not exactly regal either.”
We are nearing the statue of Victoria Memorial. Pippa leans on the rail and strikes a pose.
“Not even with this giant gold monument as my background?” she asks cheekily.
“Sorry, but nope,” I say.
She looks over her shoulder, giving me a dramatic pout. “Don’t mind me. I’m just blending in with history. It’s a public service.”
I laugh. “Public service was when you dressed up as Jessica Rabbit.”
She takes a deep breath. “We’re never going to get past that, are we?”
“Never,” I agree pleasantly.
We stroll toward the palace gates again, and I notice how fluid Pippa’s movements are. The sway of her hips, the easy grace of her body, the way her laughter draws attention without her even trying. It’s ridiculous how magnetic she is. It’s almost impossible to believe that I am her fake boyfriend. That I have actually offered myself up to make that loser jealous … so she can be with him.
She chews on her lower lip. “Wouldn’t it be grand if we ran into the King?”
“What would you say to him?”
“Oh, hi, Your Majesty. Fancy a scone? Jam first, of course.’”
I almost choke on a sip of my bottled water. “I’d pay to see that encounter.”
“And you must record it for posterity too,” she instructs while nodding sagely. “The world deserves to see me casually offering scones to royalty.”
We reach the front gates, and I notice the King’s mounted guards, expressionless and rigid. Pippa nudges me.
“Go on. Stand like a proper tourist next to them. And bonus points if the horse doesn’t bite you.”
“They won’t bite. These are highly-trained animals,” I say as I step into position next to the sentry, and cross my arms like a soldier.
She lifts her camera and takes several photos. “You look more like a bouncer than a tourist.”
I glance at her, and she’s laughing with delight, her cheeks pink with excitement. The way she moves, completely unselfconscious, is intoxicating.
“Done?” I ask.
“I think so.”
I go back to join her. “Your turn,” I say, taking her cellphone.
She shakes her head. “No, I’m ok.”
“What are you scared of? The man or the horse?” I tease.
“I’m not scared of either,” she denies hotly.
“So, do it then,” I prompt.
She rolls her eyes, but she goes and stands beside the guard on his horse and poses for the photo. The horse turns his head towards her and licks her face, a long lick of his big tongue. Pippa shrieks with surprise, then giggles in delight. I snap a couple of great photographs of her mid-laugh, and the horse’s pink tongue pressed against her cheek. She looks stunning, so happy and carefree that I wish I’d taken the photo on my own phone instead of hers. She bounces back towards me, still laughing.