Chapter 6

Noah checked all the Internet gossip headlines, and he only found one talking about him and Katya. Nothing he hadn’t seen or read before, even if none of it was true. Truth didn’t matter on the Internet, nor to the “journalists” that reported on celebrity news.

This particular one had been on his tail for a decade, and Noah was honestly surprised he’d been able to sneak out of Venice without the guy knowing or following him. Tomas seemed to know where Noah was before Noah himself had a plan.

He stood at the sliding glass doors in his suite, looking out at the ocean. He had always wanted to learn to surf, and he’d been doubly excited to learn if Zara would be the teacher.

“And that makes no sense,” he murmured to his faint reflection in the window. He couldn’t even step out onto the balcony and breathe in the Hawaiian air. No, he hadn’t seen any drones out. No one sniffing around the house. Nothing.

Of course, he hadn’t left the house for more than the few hours he’d gone down to Your Tidal Forever, and then a few minutes on the beach. No one had recognized him. Of course, all the people at the wedding planning business had been so focused on the tasks they were doing for the Marsh wedding, and people at the beach didn’t care who else was there.

Noah had the strangest urge to leave this house. He’d never had a problem being confined to a castle before; he’d done it many times. He’d been late to a few interviews because he was working with the Grandparents Patrol in Triguard. The reporters had been rude, and Noah may have snapped back at them.

It was something no one else in his family would’ve done. They would’ve smiled and apologized, answered all the questions, and kept the family’s public image through the roof. Noah was obviously the black sheep. The bad boy.

He shook his head. After that incident and the multiple articles that had been printed about his “short fuse,” he’d started to work at the library with underprivileged children in the country, as well as keep his hours with the elderly.

That had gone well, and he’d managed to build back up most of his image. He didn’t mind the work, but he felt like he wasn’t really doing anything with his life. Damien, his older brother, would take over the kingdom, and he was practically perfect in every way. But he didn’t spend hours and hours volunteering the way Noah did.

His sister Louisa dealt with a lot of the same pressures as Noah, but she was prim and proper and actually liked it. She had a serious boyfriend she’d been dating for five years, and the wedding plans had been in the works for a solid eighteen months.

Noah hadn’t received a Save the Date for his own sister’s wedding, which meant it was still months away. He had no doubt Louisa would tie the knot with Eric Newman, because they were a smart match—and they loved each other.

Noah had wondered many times over the years if he’d ever find someone he could love. He’d considered leaving the island country where generations of Wales had been born and raised and going to America, finding a job, and living a more normal life. No one would recognize him, and he’d find someone to live the rest of his life with, the way they did in those romance movies his mom loved so much.

He sighed and turned away from the window. Boomer barked, and Noah rolled his eyes. “Come on, then,” he said and opened the bedroom door. Boomer scampered through door, his claws clicking on the tile in the hall. He ran downstairs, and Noah supposed his bathroom needs were quite urgent.

Following, he paused just before the door and opened it a crack. Boomer nosed his way out, and Noah stayed out of sight. If there was someone around and they saw his dog, though, they might as well have seen him.

He could probably go outside just for a few minutes while his dog took care of business. He did, his bare feet touching the grass and found it hot. Of course, it would be hot. It was June in Getaway Bay, in the middle of the day, and everything was hot.

He tipped his head back and looked into the sky, taking a deep breath of the stale, heated air. It wasn’t that much better out here than inside, but he somehow didn’t feel as caged.

Inside, a door slammed. Boomer barked and headed back in, and Noah turned that way too. “It’s just Zara,” he said to the dog, but Boomer barked a couple more times and then Zara started giggling.

The sound wormed its way right under his skin, heating his blood and making his pulse accelerate. He stepped over to the door and peered in to see her kneeling down, scrubbing Boomer’s back and telling him what a good boy he was.

How would she even know?

But Noah enjoyed watching her, and Boomer obviously liked the attention. He licked her face, and she laughed again.

“How was practice?” he asked as he stepped inside and brought the door closed behind him.

“Oh.” Zara quieted and stood up. She picked up her bag, and it looked like it was heavy. He wondered how much swimming suits and swim caps could weigh, but he didn’t say anything. What he wanted to say, he couldn’t.

If I asked, would you go to dinner with me?

Number one, they couldn’t leave the house to go somewhere on the island. With all the modern apps, he could get anything delivered to the house. Well, Zara could. He didn’t want to call and order anything, nor answer the door. So trying to have a romantic dinner with her would be impossible.

The fact that he wanted to have a romantic date with her was insane. Completely insane.

“What’s your show called?” he asked next, because she hadn’t answered his first question and she stood there, staring at him.

“Fresh Start,” she said.

“Anyone can get tickets?” He took another step closer, his eyes locked onto hers. Hers were dark with hints of gold, and he wanted to dive in and bask in the warmth of them.

“Well, yes,” she said, backing up against the island in the kitchen. “But we’ve been sold out for a while.”

Sold out? Noah blinked, sure he could find tickets somewhere. “Do you get any tickets?”

“Yes,” she said slowly, still looking at him. “But my family is using them.”

“Of course,” he said, backing up and giving her a little space.

“You wouldn’t be able to come anyway,” she said, tracking his movement as he edged away from her.

“I wouldn’t?”

“Am I going to smuggle you down?” She blinked at him. “You don’t leave the house.”

“I’m thinking I might be okay,” he said.

“It’s been three days.”

“I’ve actually been here for five days.” Noah didn’t know why he was arguing this point with her. “And I’ve worked at Your Tidal Forever. No one even looked at me.” He’d been just another body, like always.

No one wanted Noah Wales front and center. He was the throw away. The leftover. The one the C-list reporters wanted interviews with, hoping to catapult themselves up to the King or Queen.

“So, you think you can start socializing in town?” Zara gaped at him.

Foolishness raced through him, and he wanted to end this conversation. He’d walked away from a few conversations in his life, but he didn’t think he could just turn his back on Zara. She had enough fire to come after him, shouting to be heard if she had to.

“I don’t know what I think,” he said. “Forget I said anything.” He tossed her a look over his shoulder as he left the kitchen. “Come on, Boomer.” At least the dog came with him, still knowing where his loyalty should be.

Noah went back upstairs, but there was absolutely nothing for him there. Problem was, Zara was downstairs, and that meant there was definitely nothing for him down there either.

Except a ride back down to Your Tidal Forever in the morning. He could survive until morning. He could.

Couldn’t he?

When he walked into Your Tidal Forever, he nearly got knocked back out of the door by the sheer amount of estrogen hanging in the air. He paused, wondering why he’d come here today.

Riley, a cute redheaded woman, stood from her desk in the lobby. “Hello, Holden. We’ve got the construction crew meeting across the boardwalk at the rehearsal hall.” She flashed him a professional smile, her heels clicking as she moved toward him. She stepped past him and pushed open the door. “See? Right there.”

Noah could see it. “Great, thanks.” He flashed her a smile, and she cocked her head.

“Do I know you?”

Noah kept his royal smile in place. “I don’t think so. I’m new in town.”

“And you’re volunteering here?”

“Yes.” He looked over her shoulder. “I’ll head over there now. Thanks.” He worked hard not to punch his way through the glass door in his haste to get away from Riley. Thankfully, she let him go, and Noah kept his back straight and his strides even as he walked down the sidewalk.

He wanted to bolt as fast as his feet would go. But he also wanted to see what it took to build an altar and a trellis and a custom buffet.

Thankfully, the first thing someone did when he entered the event hall was hand him a pair of goggles. He slipped them on, glad for the extra layer of anonymity.

A man who was clearly in charge came over. He glanced at his clipboard. “Holden?”

“That’s right,” Noah said.

“I’m Cal.” He glanced over his shoulder. “This says you don’t have experience with power tools.”

“Nope,” Noah confirmed.

“Then I’ll have you on supplies. This way.” Cal wove through the other men working with saws and nail guns, and Noah wished he’d told a little fib. It didn’t look that hard to hold a nail gun in place and push a button.

Pop, pop, pop! went the nail gun, and the man turned the two pieces of wood he was holding.

“I’m going to pair you with Ed. He’s building the lattices, and he’ll need a runner.” He pointed to a huge pile of thin strips of wood. “Ed’s the big guy with the yellow shirt on. His last name’s Lemon, and I’ve never seen him without the color yellow somewhere.” With that, Cal left Noah to find Ed and figure out how often he’d be running back and forth between this pile and the man in the yellow shirt.

Ed was just inside the door, and Noah stepped over to him and introduced himself with his false name. “Ed Lemon.” He held a staple gun that looked like a toy in his huge hands. “We’re making sixteen trellises.” He gestured behind him to where something leaned against the wall.

The thin pieces of wood had been stapled to the frame in a lattice pattern, and Noah was actually surprised he knew such a thing. “Sixteen of these?”

“And then we’ll be painting them.”

Noah stepped over to the completed trellis and saw all the ninety-degree angles. “Might it be easier to paint them before stapling them together?” He could only imagine how the paint would pool in the creases, and it would definitely be easier to swish color on up and down, up and down, before nailing them all together.

“I suggested that too,” Ed said. “But apparently, the bride doesn’t want the staples to show.” He stapled another thin strip to the one underneath it. “I showed Hope that these staples disappear, but I was vetoed.” He nodded to the corner. “We’ve got spray paint, so it shouldn’t be terribly hard.”

He stapled again and then again. “So you’ll bring me the wood pieces, move the trellises, and once we’ve got a good system going, you can paint too.”

Noah wasn’t sure about the painting, but he nodded as if he’d been a construction manager his whole life. “Great. Looks like what? Fifteen across? Twenty down?”

“Twenty-five down,” he said, stapling.

“The frame is thicker.” Noah hadn’t seen any thicker wood.

Ed nodded his chin toward a stack of wood Noah hadn’t seen. “That’s there.”

Noah felt like he knew what he needed to do, and now he just had to hop to it. It looked like Ed had all the wood he needed to finish the trellis on the table, and Noah headed outside to start bringing in the forty lengths of wood Ed would need for trellis number three.

Noah worked up a sweat walking back and forth, and Ed had the trellis built before Noah had all the wood in. He took the trellis and leaned it against the first one. Ed moved with the speed of a Tasmanian devil, and he had the thicker frame put together while Noah had only one more load of wood to bring in.

“What do you do for a living?” he asked Ed.

“Oh, I’m a surgeon,” he said, glancing away from his work for a moment. “You?”

“Uh….” Noah had no idea what to say. He had a fake name, but he hadn’t thought much farther ahead than that.

Ed stapled and picked up another board, positioning it right along the marks he’d made with a pencil.

“I’m a director,” Noah said.

“Sounds made up.” Ed gave him a smile that said he knew Noah had just lied to him.

“Why are you here stapling a trellis together if you’re a surgeon?” Noah asked.

“The hospital here requires us to donate a certain number of hours to the community,” Ed said. “Most doctors do pro bono care, but I do reconstructive surgery. So.” He shrugged. “Plus, this gets me out doing something I don’t normally do.”

Noah left and brought in another load of wood. “You seem pretty handy.”

“I’ve built a few things,” Ed said. “A gazebo in my backyard. A tree house for my nephew. That kind of stuff.”

Noah could spend time with people, reading with kids or playing chess with someone’s grandfather. But he didn’t really have any employable skills. Maybe he should spend his time learning how to build things instead of something like surfing.

But then you can’t get Zara to help you.

He shook the thought away, but it didn’t go far, and by the time all sixteen trellises were finished, he’d decided to see if she’d at least be willing to drive him down to town for a lesson with someone else.