Page 9 of A Prince for Christmas

“Dang, girl!” He gave a low wolf-whistle as he took in my outfit. “Aren’t you dressed to kill!”

“Thank you,” I said as I looked him over in return. Fred was always well-groomed, and tonight he looked exactly like he always did—plaid shirt hanging loose over comfortable jeans, with a down jacket on top of it all. At least it looked like he’d showered, as his hair was still damp.

Suddenly I felt awkward and overdressed, but I rejected that feeling. I wasn’t overdressed, he was underdressed, and it was his fault, not mine, that he hadn’t told me where we were going.

“Want a drink before we take off?” I asked, not sure if I wanted to change clothes.

“Sure, what you got?” He flopped down on the couch, leaving room for me beside him.

“Red, white, beer, rum.”

“How about a rum and coke? We can save the wine for later.”

At least I knew what his agenda for the evening was. I poured two rum and cokes, trying to shake my unwarranted irritation.

“So how’s the lacrosse season going?” I asked, sitting down beside him with our drinks.

“Better than college,” he said glumly. “I even hired a tutor, but I think I’m going to fail at least one class.”

For a moment, my heart melted with sympathy, then I recalled that he’d used most of his study time, plus all of his girlfriend time, playing lacrosse.

I bit back a reply. I looked gorgeous, and I refused to act like a shrew, no matter how badly I wanted to. Fred brightened up almost immediately. “We’re 5 and 3 on the field, though. If we win this season, MSU might add lacrosse to its sports roster.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. That’s what Tony says. He’s the captain, he should know.” He drained his glass. “How about one more before we go?”

I got up and poured another rum and coke, making it light this time. The last thing I needed was a drunken lacrosse player in my apartment. By the time we left, I knew that Fred’s mother had been diagnosed with breast cancer, but her chances looked good, that his father had transferred to a job that didn’t take him on the road so much. Fred was hoping for a new car for Christmas.

I had no idea why, since he already had a car. A lot of students lived near the University and walked or took the University bus to get around.

So far, he hadn’t asked me anything about my life, except for his comments about my outfit. As he continued to pour out his troubles as if I was his confessor, not his girlfriend, I decided I was the one with the attitude problem. I smiled and nodded in sympathy. It wasn’t like me to be so surly and out of sorts. I was happy we were spending time together, that he’d made time to hang out with me after not seeing him much this semester.

His glass was nearly empty, and he looked at me quizzically. I smiled and shook my head. “Actually, I’m really hungry. Let’s go eat.”

“You’re right,” he said. “Food first.” He stood and headed for the door. When he shrugged into his jacket, I noticed that he didn’t help me with my coat. He never had, and I’d never even noticed. I wasn’t sure why I was being so nitpicky all of a sudden.

Once we were in the truck, I smiled at Fred, trying to lift my mood. “Why the new car?” I asked, patting the dash. “I like this one.”

“Because I’m an only child,” he said with a grin. “I get to have what I want.”

I knew he was kidding, at least partly, so I grinned, my spirits lifting.

“You’re gonna love where we’re going,” Fred promised.

“Where?”

“You’ll see.”

A minute later, he pulled into the Wayward Wings parking lot and shot me a broad grin. “I can’t wait to see the looks on your customers’ faces when you come in all dolled up. That really is a gorgeous dress, you know. Makes a man forget you’re a little lean up top.”

I stopped halfway out of the car to process what he’d just said. Lean up top? Although I was no Wendy Williams, he’d never complained before. Was this even the Fred I’d started dating? Or had I just always put up with his immature comments and laughed it off?

“Hey,” I protested, trying to play it off as a joke even though his words stung. “My top is just as fabulous as the rest of me.”

“Don’t be like that,” he said, throwing an arm around me. “You’re great, but we all have strong points and weak points.”

“Let’s talk about something else,” I said, slipping out from under his arm as we reached the wooden doors of the restaurant.