Page 14 of A Prince for Christmas

“So,” I asked, “What are you doing for the holidays?”

“I thought I’d volunteer at the Wayward Wings and give someone the time with their family.”

“No way,” I said firmly. “You can’t do that. First of all, the Wayward Wings closes for Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. Too many students gone home to make it worthwhile. Second, my mother is already cooking, and she always makes way more than we can possibly eat. You can come to my house for Christmas!”

As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I realized how pushy I sounded. Nick looked uncomfortable, maybe even cornered, which only made it worse. Oh no. I’d overstepped.

I tried to lighten the suggestion with a joke. “Fusion is all the rage now, right? Who could pass up English-slash-American holiday fare?”

Nick cracked a smile. “Not me, I know that much.”

“Oh good!” I said, unable to keep the happiness out of my voice. “Mom will love feeding a displaced Englishman. Besides, every foreigner needs to see a real ranch while they’re in America.”

“You live on a ranch?” he asked.

“Yep.”

“I knew it,” he said quietly. “Americans are all cowboys after all.”

Now it was my turn to laugh. By the time we finished our arrangement, we were at the outer door of my apartment building. So far, I hadn’t invited him up. I was on the third floor, and I reasoned that if he climbed two flights of stairs, he might feel entitled to more than I was willing to give.

“Thanks for walking me home,” I said, fumbling for my keys.

“It’s always my pleasure,” he said.

Before I could find my keys, I felt his hand gently stroke the side of my neck. I raised my face to him, and he stepped forward. My heart leapt into my throat as his gaze dipped to my lips, and I knew what was coming. My lips parted, and he leaned down. His lips met mine, soft and sensual and comforting all at once. Tingles raced through my body like the snowflakes blowing across the parking lot—except these were warm instead of cold.

I wanted to pull him inside and drag him up to my room, but some voice inside my head warned me to take caution. Knowing my inner voice was correct, I made no move for the door, but I didn’t pull away, either. I relaxed into his arms and, for once, stopped thinking.

When he finally pulled away, and my heart felt instantly bereft, abandoned.

He smiled down at me, stroking his thumb across my chin before planting one last, lingering but chaste kiss on my lips. His eyes were heated when they met mine, but he stepped back reluctantly. “I’ll see you tomorrow, my sweet Em.”

“Tomorrow,” I whispered, trying to hold on to my balance, emotional and physical. I held on to the rail as I watched him walk away. By the time he was out of sight, I felt clear-headed enough to negotiate the two flights of steps to my apartment. Sometimes, I really hated being sensible.

CHAPTER 6

No matter how thrilled my parents were about my bringing Nick home for the holidays—they’d never liked Fred much—my feelings were much more complicated. I was less than a month out of a year-long relationship, one that had ended rather badly. And Nick was such a mystery. Even though we worked together most days, I knew so little about him.

He was English, his parents were both alive, and he had brothers and a sister back in England. He loved American hamburgers but detested peanut butter. He was hoping to go out and explore the countryside, especially the mountains, when spring arrived. He was a dynamite kisser.

Ah, yes. The kiss. The one, perfect kiss. The kiss he hadn’t repeated, although he did seem more solicitous, more anxious to open the door for me, to take my elbow if the street looked icy, even to take the heavier tasks at work, which wasn’t necessary but was very sweet.

I finished packing my bag, nervous at the thought of spending the next week at my house with Nick. He was so… Refined. I was… Not. I could get by when I was here, but at home, he’d see my whole family, and understand just how unrefined the Millers really were.

Outside of the separate garbage bag filled with presents, I needed very little. After all, I was going home. At least three quarters of my belongings were still there, including my really heavy winter wear, half of my clothes, and all the junk I’d collected since I was a little girl. My life was still there, even my old dog, Joe.

Joe was a mutt, but his mother had been a great cattle dog, and he was too. He’d always been my dog, and it had broken my heart to leave him behind, but at twelve years old, he really didn’t need to learn about apartment living or be away from his beloved cattle. Sometimes when my family called, I’d have them put him by the phone, and he would bark and give his special little “miss you” sound, that other people thought was a growl. Lizzie had told me during our last phone call that he still went out when it was time to bring the cattle in, but lately he’d wait until they came into the home pasture to run after them, barking and nipping at their heels as if to prove he was still useful.

I dutifully did my mother’s final walk-through of the apartment: balcony door locked, no water running, toaster, tv and computer all shut off and unplugged. Pulling my two bags out into the hallway, I locked the door, then hauled the bags down two flights of stairs and loaded them into the back of my old, reliable Blazer.

It was a ludicrous vehicle for an apartment dweller who walked everywhere, but its solid 4-wheel drive was perfect for the ranch life. And we had a tradition in our family. When Mom and Dad finished with a vehicle and bought a newer one, the reject car went to the eldest child who didn’t have a vehicle. I’d drawn the Blazer when I was 16; Jenny had gotten some kind of Toyota, and Lizzie was still waiting for wheels.

I started toward the address Nick had given me. I tried not to wonder why he hadn’t invited me over, or for that matter, invited me on a real date. He acted like he wanted more than friendship, but he hadn’t pursued anything since our kiss.

I was surprised when I arrived at a gated community with a security guard who asked me who I was there to see. I’d never been to Nick’s but some part of me had assumed he was an exchange student and lived on campus. When he’d given me his address, I had just assumed he lived in one of the apartment complexes that were popular with students. Not… This.

“Just a moment, Miss,” the guard said after I’d told him I was there to see Nick Lancaster. Stepping away, he held his phone to his ear, presumably calling Nick to check my credentials. It seemed like an eternity before he turned back to me, smiled, and nodded, hitting the button to lift the gate.