Page 3 of A Prince for Christmas

Seemingly dissuaded from further conversation, Nick turned to me. “What next, Boss?”

Something about that tone made me bristle. Arrogance was my first thought, but maybe it was just that foreign accent. I got the feeling this was all a big game to him. Was he kidding, or baiting me, or was he serious?

I gave him a brittle smile. “Rinse and repeat for the rest of the night,” I said. “And if you run out of tables to clear, start wiping down the ones you’ve cleared with one of those disinfectant rags, then put down the paper placemats, and the wrapped napkin-silverware bundles.”

His perfect eyebrows drew together. “Shouldn’t there be someone besides us to do that?”

I tried to hold on to my patience. It didn’t work.

“There should be,” I said with a sigh. “But they didn’t show up. The customers didn’t get the memo and came anyway. That means it’s you and me. Do you have a problem with that?”

“Of course not, Sergeant,” His mocking salute irritated me further, but I took a deep breath to keep from snapping.

Who did this guy think he was?

“So, where are the silverware sets and placemats?” His question calmed me down a bit, since he was actually helping despite the attitude.

I showed him where they were stored and how to set a table and then scrambled to take orders. The night was no busier than was usual for a Wednesday night, but with only two people doing the job of four, it would have been an utterly exhausting night even with Ben there. Instead, I had a new guy who had no experience and no clue. To be fair, he worked hard, but I had to train him as well as doing the job of two others, and by the end of the shift, all I wanted to do was go home, shower the smell of hot-wings from my body, and pass out. Instead, I had this trainee to deal with.

Mr. McGregor, trusting me far more than he should, had taken off after the dinner crowd, when only a few stragglers remained in the dining area. He’d instructed me to close up and have Nick help me.

As if Nick knew enough to help anyone with anything in the restaurant.

Still, he’d been a trooper and a quick learner, I had to admit. Once I showed him how to keep the tables emptied, disinfected, and re-dressed with placemats, silverware, and napkins, he’d kept the dining room clean all evening. He’d even helped me with seating new guests a couple of times.

Finally, closing time arrived. During the week, the restaurant closed at ten, the bar at eleven. With Nick’s help, I had the dining room ready for the lunch crowd by the time the bar was ready to close down. The bar was often nastier than the dining room, because drinkers tended to get messy after a few drinks.

I blamed my exhaustion for the next unkind thought to pop into my head.

Maybe I’ll get lucky, and it’ll be too messy for fancy Nick to show up again.

I’d been making bets with myself all night about when he’d admit he’d had enough and walk out on me. I couldn’t believe he’d stuck around this long. I knew it wasn’t really fair to him. It wasn’t his fault that we were short staffed or even that he was new. But it wasn’t my fault either—or that I’d gotten stuck training a new guy on top of running the front of the place nearly on my own.

Still, if I was feeling frazzled, I couldn’t imagine how it must feel to be the new guy walking into this madhouse.

To my surprise, and a bit of guilt at my less than charitable thoughts, Nick stuck around and helped empty and wipe down the bar area. I gently encouraged the few hangers-on to take their drunken selves on down the road. As I patted one half-drunk regular on the shoulder and confirmed that he was on foot and only had a few blocks to go, I noticed Nick watching intently.

When the last patrons had been sent home, some by cajoling, a couple with my well-practiced stern look, I turned to Nick. “So, that’s a fairly typical night at the Wayward Wings. Shall I tell Mr. McGregor that you’re just not interested?”

I didn’t know what answer I was hoping for. His ignorance was as irritating as his arrogance, but I had to admit that he did give the place a little class. And something yummier than chicken wings for the ladies to drool over.

“Why would you do that? I find it fascinating.” Nick looked perfectly serious, even though he’d spent the evening on the run, trying to be a person-and-a-half as he bussed tables, set them, and occasionally seated people and ran drinks out.

“Well, I’ve never heard this job described quite that way, but I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

“Indeed I did, Emily,” he said, holding my gaze for a second.

I shoved down a little wave of pleasure at the sound of my name rolling off his sophisticated tongue. No one had ever said my name quite like that before. It made me feel as fancy as he sounded.

“So, uh, you’ll be back tomorrow?” I asked.

“I will.” He slid his hands into his pockets, looking down at me in a way that was eighter haughty or English. It was hard to tell with only my small-town experience. I was from Snowy Hollow, Montana, and let’s just say we didn’t get a lot of foreigners. This was the big city for us.

“Is that okay with you?” he asked.

“Oh, well, it’s not really up to me,” I said with a shrug, like I didn’t give a hoot.

My pulse was telling a different story.