You’re single. You’re free. And, here, you’re Rosie. There was no one in this entire bar who knew she was a princess. She smiled at the guy, but the tequila swirled in her brain, and she had to reach for the railing surrounding the ring.

“You okay, there? Let me get you some water.”

“No, no. I’m fine. Really.” A bundle of nerves just from a cute guy talking to her, Rosalina didn’t pay attention to the MC calling out instructions. All she knew was that the bull jerked back, then spun sideways. Skylar raised a hand in the air, while her hips rolled fluidly with each thrust of the bull.

Her friend held on like a pro, doing that super sexy roll of her hips. She watched the bystanders, shouting and pumping their fists, clapping for her, when her gaze snagged on one man in particular.

It was the way he carried himself, his strong posture, the muscular back and arms. The thick head of dark hair, streaked with gold and bronze from all the time he spent outdoors. That zing of awareness had her fingers curling into fists.

What was it about Brodie Bowie that gave her this jolt of electric heat?

He sat at a table with three other brawny, handsome men who had to be his brothers. One of them reached for the hand of the woman next to him—a gorgeous blonde with an infectious smile—and kissed her palm. For one moment, they gazed into each other’s eyes, like they were shutting out the whole world to be alone together in the chaos of the bar.

Another brother, the one with scruff and shoulder-length hair, had his arm wrapped around his brunette girlfriend—or wife, Rosalina didn’t actually know—and he kept sifting his fingers through her hair. The couples were so…intimate. So sweet and loving.

The royal family didn’t show affection in public.

But that wasn’t really the issue, was it? She couldn’t think of the last time she and Marcel had held hands. They’d never needed to touch each other like that. They were pals. Buddies. Good friends.

If she’d married him, they’d have been nothing but roommates, and she’d never know passion.

Relief seized her. Oh, thank God. After all the hurt he’d caused, it seemed ridiculous to say, but she could see that Marcel had done her a huge favor by playing his game with Fabiana.

It cleared the way for her to want more. Or maybe Brodie had done that. Being here had unearthed a yearning for love and sensuality. God, she craved so much more than she’d ever allowed herself to want.

As though he could feel her watching, Brodie turned and looked right at her. The laughter on his face died, and she was hit with a burst of desire so powerful, it scared her to pieces.