Page 4 of A Prince for Christmas

*

True to his word, Nick showed up the next day for his shift, and for every shift he was scheduled after that. Mr. McGregor seemed to have decided we made a good team, because our shifts seemed to always coincide.

Working with him created a dilemma. Not only was he a quick study, he was more than willing to pull his weight, even when other staff didn’t show up, which happened often in a college town. Although he wasn’t big on sharing personal details, by the end of week two, I’d learned that he was English, and that he was in Boseman to earn his Master’s degree in Environmental Engineering. I also knew that he had two sisters, one older, one younger, and that his arrogant façade hid an empathetic gentleman with a wry sense of humor.

None of that was comforting, and the little zing that went through me whenever we touched was even worse. To put it bluntly, it complicated my life. My boyfriend was nothing like Nick. On the plus side, Fred was a Montana boy, with a deep-seated love of the state’s farm culture. We’d met the first week of freshman year when we’d bonded over both being from small towns and feeling lost in the city. He majored in animal sciences and planned to run an ecologically sound ranching operation—cattle first, and if he did well, expanding into horse breeding, as horses were his first love. His parents were pleasant and liked me as much as mine liked him. He had a stable future and was good to me and… And it sounded like I was writing a laundry list, not a love affair.

That’s not fair, I told myself. I was just feeling distant because he’d had so little time for me recently. Never the best student, he’d been struggling with a couple of his courses, which took him away from me all too often. On top of that, he’d gone hunting or fishing every weekend this month instead of spending time with me. I was happy he had other friends, but a little less happy that our time together had lately consisted of apologetic texts and the occasional coffee-shop date between classes.

I’d just left one of those unsatisfactory meetings when I arrived at work Monday. Monday was my slow day for classes, so Fred and I should have had a good half-day to spend together. He had a morning Frisbee game, which he assured me wouldn’t take long, but by the time he was ready to meet up, we had only a few hours before I had to be at work. The coffee date had deteriorated into a series of complaints, defensiveness, and eventually a strained silence only broken when I announced it was time for me to go to work.

Fred dutifully gave me a peck on the cheek and promised to make more time next week. I bit my tongue and excused myself. If I’d said what I thought, I probably wouldn’t have a boyfriend at all. The thing was, I wanted him to have hobbies and friends and get good grades. I just wanted him to have time for me, too.

I welcomed the walking time from the coffee shop to the Wayward Wings to get my emotions under control and my head into work mode. During the walk, my phone dinged, and a message from my younger sister, Lizzie, appeared. I took a deep breath and opened the text. Lizzie’s texts always distracted me. Being eleven was filled with excitement.

This time was no different. Lizzie wanted me to know that Bessie’s pregnancy was coming along nicely, and that she’d found three abandoned raccoons and was hand-raising them.

I told her that Bessie, our one milk cow, was an old hand at calving and would surely have no trouble, and she needed to watch the raccoons carefully because they could learn to open cabinets and doors.

As usual, I felt better after the contact, even by text. Lizzie was a mini-me, a dreamy animal lover who adored books. Jenny, my other sister, was different. She also loved animals, but she was much more focused on their profitability than their cuteness. I expected she would do great things eventually—or at least be free of financial burdens.

Nick was already at work when I arrived. He’d picked up all the positions far quicker than I’d expected, and tonight he was working as bartender for the first time. It was the best-tipped position at the restaurant, and to be fair, Mr. McGregor allowed everyone who had mastered the job to rotate in the plum position. With that accent and smile, I knew Nick would rake in the tips, especially from the ladies.

Noticing that I had almost a half hour before I punched in, I stalked up to the bar and dropped my purse before slumping onto a stool. I couldn’t help but smile as Nick’s eyebrows arched, and he gave me a tiny nod. I imagined he was signaling, “You’re next, Sweetie,” but it was more likely he was thinking, “What are you doing at the bar instead of punching in and giving me a hand?”

By the time I finished my little daydream, the real thing materialized behind the bar in front of me and asked, “What can I get you, Em?

I smiled in spite of myself. He’d started calling me Em sometime toward the end of his first week, and I hadn’t corrected him. Something about the way he said it, the look in his eyes… Or the fact that, although I didn’t understand it, that look said he saw me in a different way than other people did.

“Hey, Barkeep,” I said with a smile that was only partially forced. “I’ll have a pop. Make it a double, would you? And throw in a king-sized plate of your best you-need-to-calm-down appetizer.”

Nick kept a straight face. “Yes, Miss.”

He turned away to fix my order, but I could see his shoulders shaking, as if he were trying to control his laughter. The dark cloud over me lightened.

Nick returned with a tall glass of cola and a colorful straw. “One pop, double, and the calming special of the day.”

I nearly giggled at the way he said the word “pop.” It was so cute in that accent.

With a flourish, he set down a plate in front of me. “Can I get you sauce to go with that?”

“I’m just not sure what kind I want,” I teased.

Playing along, he shook his head with a grave look on his face. “I understand. Just a moment, Miss.”

While he was gone, I stared at the plate. Nick must have been watching me over the past weeks, because all of my favorite appetizers were in front of me—fries, onion rings, and jerk wings. It was food heaven. By the time I had inventoried my feast, Nick was back with a tray of the appropriate sauces for every appetizer.

“Did I miss anything, Ma’am?” he said with a smug smile.

I picked up my pop and took a sip while I considered possible answers. The flavor smacked me in the face. This was no simple pop, unless you considered vodka pop.

I was quite sure my face had turned cherry red, and the grin on Nick’s face confirmed it. He leaned across the bar, his large hands braced on the edge, and gave me a wink. “Don’t worry, I put the cost of the drink in the register, so the till won’t be off.”

I knew I could handle one drink before work, and it wasn’t like I had to drive anywhere or operate heavy machinery, so I took another sip. I normally never drank before work, but after fighting with Fred, I needed to take the edge off if I was going to make it through my shift.

“What’s the big stressor today?” Nick asked casually as he dunked a glass in the sink behind the bar. “You usually take everything in stride.”

“It’s nothing really,” I said, taking another sip of my drink. “I just had a little argument with… a friend.”