Christmas with a Prince Read online

He meant it. He would never consciously admit to himself that he thought I needed someone to take care of me.

  I knew he did.

  I’d proved to him I needed taking care of for the first twenty-three years of my life.

  He was likely to always think I couldn’t handle life on my own, and I could hardly blame him.

  He loved me, and he was really trying.

  That was enough.

  “It’s okay,” I said, making sure it sounded like I was smiling. “I know.”

  “You want to have lunch later this week?”

  “Yeah. I could do Thursday or Friday.”

  “Let’s pencil in Friday.”

  I said goodbye to him, feeling strangely emotional.

  Then I thought about Henry and how I would have to put up with him for the rest of the week.

  All my soft feelings disappeared.

  THE NEXT DAY, I WENT to the community center determined to be nice and patient—with Henry and everyone else.

  Yes, Henry had been annoying yesterday, but maybe we’d just gotten off to a bad start. I’d resolved last night to be extra nice with him and give him nothing to argue against. It was a good strategy, if I could make myself go through with it.

  It would have been easier had my heart not leaped in excitement the moment my eyes landed on Henry in the corner of the main room.

  He was squatting next to a small bookcase, evidently reordering the books. His blue rugby shirt stretched over his broad shoulders and straight back. The denim of his jeans stretched over his tight butt and strong thighs. He appeared to be completely focused on his task, and my stupid heart jumped.

  It actually jumped.

  I cleared my throat, told myself to get a grip, and then let out a breath as I walked across the room. He glanced back and straightened up when he saw me. “Hello,” he said in a husky, leisurely drawl.

  My heart clenched.

  Okay, parts of me other than my heart also clenched.

  What was wrong with me about this guy? There was absolutely no reason to be attracted to him this way.

  “Hi,” I said with a wave and casual smile. “Thanks for coming early.”

  He looked surprised, and I assumed it was because I was being nice to him. “Surely,” he replied.

  I’d been heading to the office, but this caught my attention, reminded me he wasn’t American.

  He’d obviously meant to say sure in an offhand acceptance of my thanks.

  Surely was kind of cute though.

  His eyes narrowed on my face, as if he were trying to read my expression. “Did I say something wrong?” he asked.

  “Of course not. I’ll be back in a minute and can show you around.” With another smile, I kept walking to Marcus’s office. He wasn’t in, so I just grabbed a file I needed and slid it into my bag so I could work on next month’s budget at home tonight.

  Then I returned to the main room, where Henry was still standing where I’d left him.

  He still looked a little confused, as if he were replaying our former conversation and trying to figure out what he’d said wrong.

  “Okay,” I said briskly. “Let me show you around, and you can see the stuff you can be working on this week.”

  He came with me without comment, falling in step with me, his eyes focused on my face as I explained how he could help in the main room and the kitchen. Then we walked down the hall to the book storage room, and I opened the door.

  He blinked at the unordered piles of books that filled nearly every inch of the large closet, some that reached halfway up to the ceiling.

  “We have a book drive for the holidays every year. These are the books that have come in so far this season. No one has had the time to sort through them.”

  “And you want me to—”

  “Go through them. Organize them by author name, and catalog them so we can figure out what we’ve got to work with.” I tried—very hard—not to feel an amused satisfaction at the look on Henry’s face as he saw the task in front of him.

  “You think I have time to do it all?”

  “Why wouldn’t you? Unless you’re planning to waste time while you’re here.” I remembered I was supposed to be nice to him now and tempered my tone with a smile. “I’m sure you’re not. You’ll get through them in no time.”

  His eyes narrowed again in that suspicious way, as if he thought I might have questionable motives. “Why are you being nice to me today?”

  I stiffened my shoulders. “Why wouldn’t I be nice?”

  “You weren’t nice yesterday.”

  This was unfortunately true, and I felt guilty about it. “I’m sorry about yesterday. I was... I didn’t know who you were, and I overreacted.”

  If anything, his expression looked even more suspicious than it had before. “And you know who I am now?”

  I frowned in confusion. “Of course I know who you are. Marcus told me you were authorized. You’re not some creep who came in off the street to get close to the kids.”

  His face relaxed slightly but not all the way. “I see.”

  I felt even more confused, rattled in a way that wasn’t normal for me. I didn’t like it. I gave him a little scowl. “Why are you being weird?”

  “I’m not being weird.” He spoke the last word with care, as if he weren’t used to saying it.

  “Yes, you are being weird. You seemed to like it yesterday when I was rude to you, and now you’re all stiff and off-putting because I’m trying to be nice.”

  “I’m not off-putting.” He was relaxing even more now, that little smile on the corner of his mouth making those adorable creases.

  I scowled even more. “Yes, you are. Do you have a problem with people being nice to you?”

  “Only if they have ulterior motives.”

  I gasped. “What possible motive could I have to be nice to you, other than being a decent person? Maybe you’re not used to being around decent people, but there are a few of us out there. If I want to be nice, I’ll be nice. I don’t have to have a motive for it.”

  He was back to yesterday’s mood now. His eyes were laughing and appreciative both. As if I amused him and he also liked what he saw. “You’re not being very nice now,” he drawled.

  “Well, I would if you’d let me. I find it very hard to be nice to obnoxious people.”

  “And you think I’m obnoxious?”

  He was teasing me. I knew it, and I also knew I shouldn’t play along. But I couldn’t seem to help it. “Of course you’re being obnoxious. I can’t be the only person who’s ever told you that.”

  “You actually are. Almost everyone likes me.”

  “That can’t possibly be true.”

  “It is.” His smile had widened so it was almost breathtaking. He was golden all over, like something inside him shone. “I’m widely regarded as a very nice guy. You’re the only one who thinks I’m obnoxious.”

  “I don’t believe that for a minute.” I peered at him, trying to figure out what he was thinking behind the amusement and admiration. He seemed to be telling me the truth. “If I am, then it must be because you act more obnoxious with me than with anyone else.”

  “Maybe.” His eyes went hot for just a moment. “I suppose you could be just that special.”

  I shouldn’t like that he’d said that.

  I shouldn’t hope that he meant it.

  I shouldn’t care if I was special to this handsome, annoying stranger.

  I shouldn’t care at all.

  He’d been forced into community service, which meant he’d misbehaved in some way. And I couldn’t be around that kind of misbehavior again. He would just drag me back into the lifestyle I’d vowed to quit for good.

  Which meant I couldn’t care about Henry at all.

  Two

  THE NEXT DAY, I WOKE up resolved once again to be nice.

  People had judged me all my life—they’d come to conclusions about me based on who I was, who my father was, and what they’d read about me in the ta
bloids—and I’d always hated it. In the morning light, I could see very clearly I’d done the same thing to Henry.

  Maybe he wasn’t an ass.

  Maybe he was trying to turn over a new leaf with this community service.

  Maybe I’d not treated him fairly for the past two days.

  I’d always have to be careful about anyone who tempted me to do things I didn’t want to do, but surely I could be careful and still be nice.

  Yesterday I’d tried to be nice to him as a strategy, but maybe I should be nice to him for real.

  My graduate classes were on Mondays and Wednesdays, so my morning was spent on campus. It was after three by the time I got to the community center, and the kids would start arriving in fifteen minutes.

  I looked around the big room for Henry and didn’t see him. He must have been running late since he was supposed to be here by three.

  It was honestly a little annoying to work yourself up to be super nice to someone and then not have them even show up.

  I stopped by Marcus’s office to put my bag in a file cabinet drawer and then chat with him for a minute. Then I headed to the kitchen to say hi to Jenny. When I passed the book storage room, I paused, realizing the light was on and someone was inside.

  Henry.

  His back was to me so the first thing I was saw was a very fine butt in a pair of worn jeans. Then I looked up to see his broad shoulders and too-long golden hair.

  If he’d been working on the books, I would have been surprised and pleased and ashamed of my negative thoughts about him.

  But he wasn’t working.

  He was standing there reading a kid’s book.

  I cleared my throat intentionally, and he whirled around. His surprise immediately turned into that adorable lazy grin. “Hi, April.”

  I frowned, immediately forgetting my resolution to be nice. “Hello.”

  “Have I done something wrong already?”

  “You’re supposed to be working, not hanging around and wasting time.”

  “I was working. Or, rather, I started working and then got distracted by this book about the dogs’ Christmas. It’s really good.”

  I loved that particular book. It was one of the best children’s books I’d read—so many of the books were really bad, with simplistic moralizing and absolutely no plots. I felt another tug of deep attraction for Henry, intensified by his lilting accent, which was more pronounced than normal.

  What was wrong with me, melting into a hot puddle of goo from nothing more than a man’s voice and those creases at the corners of his mouth?

  I usually had more backbone than this.

  My internal lecture to myself caused my tone to be cooler than I’d intended. “Maybe you can waste time reading after work hours.”

  His eyes shot over to my face, searching my expression as if he were trying to understand my mood, but he immediately closed the book and set it down on top of the stack he’d taken it from.

  After a moment, his face softened. “You look very pretty today,” he said huskily.

  I rolled my eyes.

  “I just gave you a compliment.”

  “I know you did.”

  “Why don’t you like me?”

  “What makes you think I don’t like you?” My cheeks warmed even as I tried to keep my tone casual. I wasn’t used to people being so direct.

  “I saw you with the kids and with Marcus and with the other volunteers. You smile at them.”

  Now I felt guilty again because he was absolutely right. I’d been a very careful person for the past three years—I’d had to be—but I was also friendly most of the time. I smiled at Henry, wishing he would just shut up and leave me alone.

  He chuckled. “That’s a fake smile. I’ve seen your real smile.”

  I scowled. “It was not a fake smile. And I might smile at you for real if you didn’t always act so smug and obnoxious.”

  He was still laughing, perhaps because I’d clearly contradicted myself in my retort. “I told you before. I’m really a very nice guy. You’re the only person in the world who thinks I’m obnoxious.”

  I sucked in an indignant breath. “Then clearly I’m the only person who’s gotten to see the real you.”

  Deciding that was a fairly good comeback, I turned to leave, wanting to exit on a high note. But I’d only taken two steps down the hall when I remembered I’d resolved to be nice and nonjudgmental for real today.

  With a resigned sigh, I turned back around and stood in the storage room doorway.

  Henry was grinning as if he’d expected me to return.

  “Sorry,” I said, swallowing down my annoyance and the new rush of attraction. “I don’t know why I’m so prickly with you, but I’ll try to do better.”

  “Don’t try on my account. I’d rather you say what you really think than pretend something that isn’t real. I’ve had enough fakeness in my life.” He took a step toward me, his expression warming palpably. He added thickly, “Besides, I like you prickly.”

  I gulped and made a quick retreat so he wouldn’t see the wave of hot response that flushed my skin and sent tingles down my spine.

  This wasn’t good.

  It wasn’t good at all.

  I couldn’t let myself fall under the spell of a sexy, entitled man like Henry. It would lead me astray, and I’d been working so hard to stay on the right path.

  If only he wasn’t exactly the kind of man I liked the best.

  I decided right then, standing in the middle of the hallway, that my decision to be nice to him wasn’t the right way to go.

  I couldn’t be nice to him. It was too dangerous. But I also shouldn’t be mean to him.

  Instead of doing either one, I was just going to avoid him as much as possible for the rest of the week.

  I DID A PRETTY GOOD job of avoiding him for the next two hours. I had work to do—since I led one of the reading circles on Wednesdays and Fridays, and Henry stayed in the storage room the whole time, hopefully organizing the books rather than reading.

  I didn’t check in on him, but I still felt so rattled after the kids were dismissed that I left immediately, rather than hanging out as I usually did. I walked down to the church at the end of the block, where there was a five-thirty AA meeting held daily.

  Three years ago, I’d had twice weekly appointments with a therapist, and I’d also gone to meetings almost every day, but now I only occasionally saw my therapist and attended just one meeting a week.

  But I was feeling restless. Unsettled. It wasn’t a good feeling for me. I might end up making a decision I would regret.

  So I went to the meeting. I listened quietly and didn’t share, but it always helped to realize other people went through the same struggles you did. I felt a little more stable after I left.

  My history wasn’t like a lot of the others in the group. I’d never been in a habit of drinking privately or even daily. I’d drunk because my friends had drunk, and it hadn’t really been the alcohol I was chasing. It was the high from being wild, from defying my father, from acting out, from getting attention I craved, from feeling a part of something. I’d binged and invariably made bad decisions because of it.

  So I was almost never tempted to buy a bottle of wine or a case of beer on my way home. But I was tempted to make bad decisions, to go out to a party or a club, to feel that wild high I used to feel, even though I knew very well that it had never made me happy.

  I was happy now. I was in a good place. And I wasn’t going to let anything—or anyone—drag me back down to that abyss I’d lived in for so long.

  As I was walking back down the block from the church to where I had left my car, I paused as something caught my attention in the outdoor patio of a café.

  Henry.

  He was sitting at the table nearest the sidewalk, reading a book with an empty coffee cup and a half-drunk glass of water on the table. It was chilly and overcast today, so he was the only one sitting outside.

  I was so surprised t
o see him that I stopped in my tracks.

  He glanced over to where I stood only a few feet away, and his eyes widened dramatically. He almost spit out the sip of water he’d just taken as he lowered his book.

  He hadn’t expected to see me. That much was obvious. It was very clear he hadn’t been waiting for me in some sort of creepy stalker way.

  This was the closest coffee shop to the community center, and he’d probably just stopped by after he’d finished working to get a drink and kill some time.

  “I thought you’d left,” he said, pushing his chair back and standing up.

  “I’d left the center. But not the neighborhood.”

  “Do you want to join me?” he asked. “I’m just hanging here.”

  The invitation was casual, friendly but not flirtatious. “Hanging out here,” I corrected, feeling a little smile play on the corner of my lips.

  His brows drew together. “Hanging out here.”

  “If you were hanging here, there would be a noose or a hook involved.”

  He chuckled. “Got it. Hanging out here. So you’ll join me?”

  I hadn’t said yes. I hadn’t even indicated an affirmation. But he felt different now than he had before—not quite as sure of himself, not quite as smug.

  He didn’t feel dangerous at the moment, so I gave him a quiet nod and walked over to the entrance to the patio.

  “Would you like a coffee?” he asked. “Or maybe a beer?”

  “No!” I said quickly.

  He blinked.

  “Sorry,” I added in a modified tone. “I don’t drink anymore. Ever. I had coffee at the meeting, but I wouldn’t say no to a hot chocolate.”

  He waved the server over and ordered me a hot chocolate. Then he asked, “The meeting?”

  “Oh.” I felt a little wave of self-consciousness as I realized he had absolutely no idea what kind of meeting I was talking about. “AA. At the church there.”

  “I didn’t know.” He was looking at me with interest and understanding but not the sympathy or discomfort I was used to seeing. “Sorry about offering you the beer.”

  “It’s fine. You didn’t know.”

  There were almost no other customers here this afternoon, even sitting inside. I watched our server behind the counter as he poured out my hot chocolate, and I waited as he brought it over to me.