“The princess of St. Christophe. She called yesterday to book a suite, but the one we gave her’s too small.”

He had no idea why the manager would ask for his help. “Well, I can’t do anything about it right now, so I’ll let you figure it out.” Eighteen months ago, Brodie had turned the ghost town adjacent to his family’s three-hundred-thousand-acre legacy ranch into a living museum.

He’d built it, but he’d never been involved in the day-to-day running of the individual businesses.

“Yes, but the only suite that will accommodate her entourage is the three-bedroom.”

Ah. Okay. Now it made sense. “You want me to give up my room?”

“She’s here for a fitting with Knox.” He lifted a shoulder, like it was obvious what Brodie should do. “And she’s a princess.”

“Of a principality the size of my left nut.”

The manager cracked a smile. “I’ll be sure to tell her that.”

He supposed he could crash with one of his brothers. He opened the door to see the wedding party surrounding a small, circular table. Knox, a dark-haired beauty in an extravagant wedding gown of her own design, plucked the fresh pink and white flowers out of the frosting on the tiered cake. Callie stood in the shelter of his youngest brother’s arms, and Delilah canoodled with Ruby, his half-sister. Looked like the chef was singing a song to the rapt little girl.

A strange ache in his chest had him turning back to the hotel manager. He wouldn’t be staying with any of them. “How about putting her detail up in some double rooms? We’re in between tourist seasons.” Which was why he was staying in the hotel to begin with. “I’m sure we’ve got some vacancies.”

The man gave a proud jut of his chin. “Actually, we’re completely booked.”

“Has she checked out the saloon?” They’d restored the original structure, turning the downstairs into a lively tavern and converting the upper levels into a bed and breakfast.

“Brodie, come on, man.” He leaned in. “You want me to tell a princess to find somewhere else to stay?”

“Yeah, okay, fine. I’ll talk to her.” Brodie headed across the wood floor, polished to a high gloss, taking in the lobby he’d designed to fit the time period. Damn, his dad would love this place. The original settlement of Calamity had been too close to the Teton Mountain Range, so they’d moved it a couple miles deeper into the valley. His dad, a history nut, had purchased the ghost town a few years before his death in an avalanche.

Last year, Brodie had hired historians and worked with preservationists to bring the town to life. He’d hired costumed actors to walk the streets and populate the restaurants, the saloon and B&B, and the stores. Scheduled shoot-outs took place throughout the summer. It was pretty cool.