Okay, then. She was going to have to dance with the cranky dad. No problemo. It’d been her idea, after all. Lacey had waltzed with half a dozen Prince Charmings since she’d started her job at the theme park. She could certainly handle dancing with one perfectly ordinary dad.

Except there was nothing ordinary about the way he carried himself as he crossed to the front of the ballroom. Lacey couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but there was something commanding about his straight spine and nice shoulders. Confident.

Dare she think it?

Regal.

But that was just her tiara talking. As Mark had so bluntly put it, her crown wasn’t real, and neither was this castle. Grumpy Baseball Cap was just a regular dad—albeit a dad with exceedingly good posture and a jawline that looked as if it’d been chiseled from fine European marble.

He took his place beside her. Tiny sparks of electricity seemed to dance along Lacey’s skin. Nerves, right? It had to be. She could not be attracted to this cynical, brooding dad.

He looked down at her with icy blue eyes that seemed to say, You’ve got me here. Now what are you going to do with me?

Lacey’s throat went dry. She looked away and went about situating her students into pairs, designating the leader and the follower for each couple. Then she taught everyone the basic box step, and the dancers practiced on their own a few times as Lacey counted along to the music.

“Leaders, step forward, side, close. Step back, side, close. Followers, step back, side close. Step forward, side close.”

She was surprised when Grumpy Baseball Cap picked up the steps almost instantly. Lacey had fully expected him to trip over his feet, but they weren’t even in hold position yet. Once he had to do the box step and move Lacey across the floor at the same time, he wouldn’t stand a chance—especially not with the added challenge of her enormous princess dress. His feet would be swallowed up by tulle within seconds. She could hardly wait.

Lacey motioned toward her students with a sweeping gesture of her gloved hands. “All right, palace guests, take your partner by the hand, and let’s try dancing together!” She watched as they arranged themselves into stiff pairs, and then turned toward Grumpy Baseball Cap, her fairy tale princess smile fixed into place. “Now, just put your hand here…”

Before she could get the words out, he took her right hand in his and placed his opposite palm in the center of her back in perfect hold position, as if he’d done it a million times before.

“Oh.” She gave a little start. “Yes, exactly like that.”

“Very well, Your Royal Highness,” he said, eyes glittering in the enchanted, fairy tale-lighting of the castle—which Lacey knew was achieved by the use of pale pink bulbs, but she went a little fluttery all the same.

“Here we go, princes and princesses,” she called, and as the music swelled, she took her first backward step.

And then, all at once, she forgot about where to put her feet or making sure Grumpy Baseball Cap didn’t trip over her dress or plow them into a table surrounded by children sipping tea, because she wasn’t doing a simple box step anymore. Instead, she was being led around the floor as if she were dancing on feathers. They spun, they turned, they made a sweeping circle around the perimeter of the ballroom—so fast and in such perfect time to the melody that Lacey felt herself holding her breath. She wasn’t even conscious of her foot placement. Her body simply responded to her partner’s movement.

Wow.

Her pulse roared in her ears as he pulled her closer to him, his hand firm and warm against her back—so warm that she could feel it through the thick satin bodice of her ballgown.

So this was what it felt like to really waltz? To be led across the dance floor by someone who knew what he was doing? Her feet floated across the floor. After five years of practice, this dance felt like it was what Lacey had been preparing for all this time. The real deal.

The strangest thing of all was that Grumpy Baseball Cap never looked down at his feet or let his gaze wander over her shoulder to see where they were going. Instead, he kept his eyes fixed with hers the entire time. It felt daring and intimate, as if they were the only two people in the room. Lacey couldn’t look away. She couldn’t even breathe, and just as she started to regain her equilibrium, he lowered her into an elaborate dip.

She gasped as cheers erupted in the ballroom. Lacey had never been dipped in her life, but it felt like the most natural thing in the world, and as she rested in his arms, head spinning, Grumpy Baseball Cap flashed her a quick wink.

“You must watch a lot of Dancing with the Stars,” she blurted.

“Something like that,” he said, and then they were off again, waltzing in a long series of spins until the big grandfather clock began to chime.

At last, Lacey broke her gaze and looked away. Both arms of the towering clock pointed straight up, marking twelve o’clock. It was time for the tea party to end and for Lacey to dash away from the ballroom like Cinderella. “Oh my goodness,” she said, slowing her footsteps to a halt. “I’m sorry, but I simply must go.”

She was supposed to say those words loud and clear so all her guests could hear her, but they came out in a breathy whisper, as if she were fleeing from a real Prince Charming.

Grumpy Baseball Cap frowned. “Wait, where are you going?”

“It’s midnight,” she said, and right on cue, the lights in the castle dimmed, just as they did every day when Sweet Pea’s Royal Tea Party drew to a close.

But Lacey’s mad dash from the ballroom felt different this time. Her heart thumped in her chest and her hands shook as she gathered her skirts. She had to concentrate extra hard on remembering to step out of her shoe before she reached the exit.

The ballroom’s grand double doors slammed shut behind her, and a backstage assistant promptly locked them to prevent any overeager kids from trying to follow Princess Sweet Pea. Lacey heard another roar of cheers and applause rise from the tea party as she pressed a hand to her chest and tried to catch her breath.

“That waltz was really something.” The stagehand looked her up and down and shook his head. “Who was that guy you were dancing with?”

“I have no idea. Just an ordinary dad,” Lacey said.

Never mind the fact that ordinary dads didn’t typically dance like Fred Astaire…

“Could’ve fooled me. For a minute there, I thought you might be dancing a real royal waltz.”

Lacey’s gaze flitted toward the closed doors to the ballroom. That makes two of us.