‘‘I suppose so.’’ She slipped off her jacket and glanced around. ‘‘I like this place. It reminds me of that movie—American Graffiti.The one set in the early sixties. Did you see it?’’
‘‘Many times.’’
‘‘Me, too. It’s a favorite of mine and my sisters.’’ She took a menu and opened it. Her eyes widened as she took in the list of steaks and all the ways they could be cooked. ‘‘This isn’t a place for a nonmeat eater, is it?’’
‘‘They have salad.’’
She grinned. ‘‘One salad. Amazing. And…’’ She paused to count. ‘‘Three dishes made with chicken. Four, if you count chicken-fried steak.’’
‘‘Hey, Mitch.’’
He looked up and saw an older man standing next to the table. ‘‘Tom.’’ Mitch shook the man’s hand. ‘‘How’s by you?’’
‘‘Good. I haven’t seen you in town for a while. Keeping busy on the ranch?’’
‘‘Yeah. With my folks gone and John away, there’s plenty of work to fill my day.’’
Tom Bucannan’s spread was about five miles from Mitch’s. Tom and his dad had always been friends, but unlike Mitch’s father, Tom would never retire. The rancher always said he didn’t see the point of leaving the one thing he’d worked for all his life. He was a tall man, strong but lean, with gray hair and a handlebar mustache that stuck out straight for nearly four inches before curving into graceful half circles. His sharp gaze settled on Alex.
Mitch drew in a deep breath. How exactly did one explain the presence of royalty at Ruby’s Diner?
‘‘Tom, this is Alex. She’s a friend of the family and is staying with me for a little while. Alex, Tom Bucannan, our closest neighbor.’’
She gave the rancher one of her best smiles and shook hands with him. ‘‘This is such a beautiful part of the country,’’ she said graciously. ‘‘I’m very pleased to have had the chance to see it.’’
Tom continued to hold her hand in his. ‘‘If you’ve just been around Mitch’s place, you ain’t seen nothing. Ride on up to my spread. I’ll show you some countryside that will keep you talking for days.’’
‘‘I would like that very much.’’
Mitch wondered if the older man was ever going to release Alex’s fingers. He finally did so, then tipped his hat and left.
‘‘We have some colorful characters up here,’’ Mitch said by way of explanation.
‘‘I liked him.’’ Her blue eyes danced with amusement. ‘‘Although you were glaring.’’
‘‘I was not.’’ Tom was old enough to be her father and then some. Hehadn’tbeen glaring. He cleared his throat, then changed the subject. ‘‘I hope you don’t mind that I introduced you as a friend of the family. I didn’t think you wanted everyone knowing who you were.’’
‘‘That’s fine.’’ She rested her forearms on the table. ‘‘I liked that, too. No one has ever said that about me before. Probably because no one would be comfortable with that kind of familiarity.’’
Mitch stiffened at her comment. He knew in his head that she was a royal princess, but with her exercising the horses and living in his house, he often forgot it on a day-to-day basis. Most of the time she was just a smart, intriguing, attractive woman who had taken up temporary residence on the ranch.
‘‘So how many rules of etiquette have I violated in the past week and a half?’’ he asked.
‘‘Nearly 750.’’
‘‘I’m being serious.’’
Her smile faded. She reached across the table and touched the back of his hand. ‘‘Please don’t be.’’ She paused and drew in a deep breath. ‘‘You’re the most genuine person I know, Mitch. You treat me like I’m very normal. My guess is that you forget the princess part, and I don’t want that to change.’’
She pulled her hand free and leaned forward, staring at him intensely. ‘‘You can’t know what it’s like for me. Everywhere I go, I’m treated differently. It can be very isolating. I never have the opportunity to just be myself. I’m expected to dress a certain way or act a certain way. I’m not supposed to be irritable or too quiet or even make off-color jokes. But at the ranch, around you, I’m safe to be myself. That means the world to me.’’
‘‘I hear the words, but they don’t make any sense,’’ he admitted.
‘‘Then just accept them on faith and promise you won’t change. I don’t want you worrying about the rules. I want you to be yourself.’’
‘‘So whatcha gonna have?’’ the waitress asked as she came toward the table. She was a redhead, but unlike Alex, the color of her hair was closer to neon than nature. She winked at Mitch, then turned her attention to Alex. ‘‘You made up your mind, sweetie?’’
Alex looked faintly startled at the endearment, but offered a friendly smile. ‘‘Yes. I’d like the T-bone steak with mashed potatoes.’’ She hesitated. ‘‘Is there a vegetable served with that?’’
