“You just picked German up this spring? You sound like a natural,” Mila said with astonishment.
Cassidy shrugged her shoulder. “I have a thing for languages. I can pick them up in no time. I currently speak ten but hope to learn more when I go to college in the fall. I’d love to talk to you later about being an interpreter if you have time, but now I have to get dinner on the table.” Cassidy smiled.
“Of course,” Mila said as Cassidy grabbed their orders and took off. “That’s amazing. You didn’t need me after all,” she whispered to Zain.
“No way I’m putting the fate of my plans in the hands of an eighteen-year-old girl. No offense, Dylan. Your sister is brilliant, but she’s still a kid. It takes someone more experienced to understand that words aren’t everything at these summits. It’s the tone, and it’s what’s not said that is just as important as the words. Isn’t that right, Mila?” Zain asked.
“That’s very true. A tone or a note of sarcasm can change the whole meaning of what is being said,” Mila answered.
Zain looked around the table. His friends were all looking on with interest as Mila spoke. She told them some stories about misinterpretations that had the whole table laughing. As they ate dinner, his friends told their own stories and Mila relaxed even more. By the end of the meal, Zain could tell she was at ease with everyone as they recounted some of the funnier sayings and things she might run across in Keeneston.
Sydney laughed and Zain turned his attention from Mila to her. “A Hot Brown is a Kentucky dish. You have to try it while you are here.”
Mila nodded her head, but there was still a skeptical look on her face. Zain stretched his arm across of the back of her chair and leaned closer to her. “They’re wonderful. We wouldn’t steer you wrong. Trust me.”
Mila’s eyes widened. Her body was suddenly tight as she looked between him and Abby. “Um, okay. I’ll try it tomorrow. But now I need to be going.”
“Do you have prep work to do tomorrow?” Deacon asked.
“I would like to take a tour of the area, but I was told there are no taxis. So I will probably just explore Main Street and review the talking points and terms that are most likely to be used during the summit,” Mila said as she slid out of her chair.
“Well, if you need anything, just ask. Any of us can show you around tomorrow if you’d like,” Abby smiled.
“And if you need anything during the meetings at the farm, just ask. Dylan and I will both be there all week,” Deacon told her.
Zain moved to stand as well. “Of course, I will also be there if you need anything or have any questions.”
Mila looked around the table with genuine warmth to her smile. “Thank you so much. I don’t normally get to meet so many interesting and kind people when I’m traveling. You’ve already made me feel as if I belong. Thank you.”
“Any time.” Sydney smiled. “Take the two bags in my truck and call me if you need more.”
“Thank you. I’ll get them cleaned and sent back to you as soon as my luggage arrives.”
“Nonsense. They’re my gift to you. Keep them. I just hope you enjoy your time in our town, for however long that may be.”
Zain’s head whipped to look at an innocent-looking Sydney. Oh no. He knew that look. It was the same one his mother currently had on her face as she watched him from across the café. In fact, that look was on everyone’s face except Dylan, who was currently eying Mila’s nicely rounded breasts.
Nope. This was not happening. He was not tying himself to a woman he’d just met, no matter how crazily attracted he was to her, not to mention how witty and funny he found her. He wasn’t in the market for a wife. No, he was in the market for establishing a nanotech lab and world peace. A wife seemed like anything but peaceful. Zain gave a quick bow of his head to Mila. “Enjoy your time here. I’ll see you at the summit,” he said and immediately sat back down. Gone were the innocent looks from his friends. They had been quickly replaced with narrowed eyes shooting daggers.
Dylan raised an eyebrow at him and then shrugged his shoulders. “Would you like me to walk you back to the bed and breakfast?”
Zain ground his teeth together. It didn’t matter what Mila did. She was not for him. Mila smiled at the man Zain wanted to strangle. “Thank you, Dylan. But that’s not necessary. I’m pretty sure I can find my way back.” She laughed then and Zain ground his teeth even harder.
Dylan stood and towered over her. “It’s not a problem. My mother, the tiny one with the spiky blond hair sitting over there, raised me to never let a woman walk home alone. It’s just not gentlemanly.”
“I’ll come, too. You’ll need help carrying your clothes,” Zain said smoothly as he stood up. Dylan’s lips quirked with amusement as he stepped back to allow Mila to lead the way out of the café.
“What’s the matter, prince? Afraid of a little competition?” Dylan taunted under his breath.
“What competition? I’m just being useful.”
Dylan grunted.
Zain followed them out to the street where he leaned over the back of the truck and hefted a bag of clothes. He wasn’t going to think about what had propelled him to offer his assistance. This was just gentlemanly behavior, that’s all. Although, the way Dylan’s hazel eyes had deepened to a dark brown told Zain his gentlemanly behavior was the last thing on Dylan’s mind.
“Ready?” Zain asked with irritation creeping into his voice.
“Your Highness!” a voice from a car sliding to a stop in front of them called from the window.
“What is it, Kareem?” Zain asked the new security guard who had replaced Nash Dagher, one of Zain’s most trusted guards.
Kareem Maher was about an inch shorter than Mila’s five-foot-six inches when he wasn’t wearing the boots he liked—boots that added two inches of height. Kareem hurried from the car and looked suspiciously at Mila and Dylan.
“There are riots in Rahmi,” Kareem whispered.
“What?” Zain demanded. Rahmi was a peaceful country. There were inklings of unrest over Rahmi’s dependency on oil that were filtering through social media, but never had a riot broken out before. “Where?”
“In the capital. Your father has requested you return home immediately for a video conference with the king and Prince Jamal.”
Zain shoved the bag of clothes at Dylan. “I have to go. Good-night. It was a pleasure meeting you, Mila.”
“Do you need my help?” Dylan asked quietly.
“No. This is something I must handle,” Zain called out as he was already racing for the car.
Mila watched as Zain leapt into the black SUV and tore off. She hadn’t been able to hear anything the guard had said. But by the look on Zain’s face, she knew it hadn’t been good.
“Why would you be able to help him?” Mila asked the hulking man who carried two heavy bags as if they were full of feathers.
“I have a skill set some find useful,” Dylan said in his deep southern voice. The fact that he wasn’t joking sent a chill down Mila’s spine. The man walking next to her radiated danger.
“You’re scary,” Mila blurted.
Dylan just smiled. “Some girls like that.”
“Not me.”
“I know. Don’t worry. I’m just messing with Zain a little bit,” Dylan grinned and Mila thought maybe she could live dangerously. When Dylan smiled, the world stopped spinning.
“I just don’t understand this place. Princes and princesses going by their first names and eating dinner at the local café with not a single person thinking it’s out of the norm. Then there are all the assassins, terrorism, and a woman picking me up from the airport with a massive rifle in the backseat.”
“Abby?” Dylan instantly asked. Mila nodded as they came to a stop in front of the B&B. “She was out target shooting with her parents when Veronica asked her to get you. As for the royal family, well, we don’t really care. They’re just part of the town. I grew up running around their house and think of Dani and Mo as my aunt and uncle. All of us Davies cousins do.”