Page 52 of My High Horse Czar

Kris laughs.

I roll my eyes. “You don’t need to text me. I’m right here.”

Alexei frowns. “But I want to know how to do it.”

“Are you sure he wasn’t fourteen when he was cursed?” I whisper. “He’s awfully interested in texting.” I pull out my phone, realizing I haven’t entered Kris’s or Mirdza’s phone numbers yet.

“What messages has he sent you?” Alexei’s craning his neck, trying to see my screen.

I drop it, facedown, in my lap. “Alexei Romanov.”

“It’s Alexei Nikolaevich.” Aleksandr’s practically shaking, he’s trying so hard to suppress his laughter.

I ignore Kristiana’s fiancé and focus on the idiot who knows no modern etiquette. “You can’t look at other people’s phones. It’s considered very rude.”

“It’s even worse than peeping at them naked,” Grigoriy says.

“What?” Mirdza slaps his shoulder. “What are you saying?”

“I mean, that’s how it seemed to me. You spent plenty of time casting sideways glances at me when I shifted, but you never let me take a peek at your phone.”

Mirdza’s spluttering, but she doesn’t really look angry. It takes me a moment to realize that he’s kidding. I didn’t think Grigoriy had much of a sense of humor, but I guess I was wrong.

Aleks is pulling into a parking lot, finally, and he looks just as amused as he did before. “We’re here.”

“This should be interesting,” Mirdza mutters. “It’s nice not to be the one under a microscope this time.”

“A microscope?” Alexei glances at me. “Are you a scientist?”

Now I do laugh.

“Ah, you mean that you’re being examined.” Alexei nods.

After we all pour out of the car and head for the first store, I hear Grigoriy whispering to Alexei. I sneak up a little closer, a little too keen to hear what they’re saying.

“Whatever you do, if you suggest she buy something, make sure it’s an extra small. That’s denoted with the letters x and s on the tag on the garment.”

“She is small,” Alexei says. “So that makes sense. But surely Mirdza isn’t the same size as Adriana.”

“You don’t get it,” Grigoriy hisses. “No matter what woman you’re with, hand her an extra small.”

“Aleksandr told me the clothes come in different sizes that vary, and that each person can find one that’s just right.”

Grigoriy sighs. “That’s patently untrue. Plenty of things, no matter the size, just won’t work for some people’s body shapes. But if you hand her a size large or extra large, you’re going to offend her.”

“Why?” Alexei frowns. “Large women are also beautiful.”

“I know,” Grigoriy says. “But for some reason, they don’t think that anymore.”

Alexei blinks.

I hate to interrupt this stellar sharing of misinformation by Grigoriy, but we’ve reached the shop. “Sounds like you have this shopping thing figured out,” I say. “So you can go over there with Grigoriy.” I point. “And I’ll stay on this side in the women’s clothing section, where plenty of lovely women wear size large.” I glare.

“You don’t want to stay and give him some input on what he buys?” Aleksandr asks. “Kristiana always wants to do that.”

“Because you’re romantically involved,” I say. “Whereas Alexei and I are not. So, even if he decides to wear green basketball shorts, a polo shirt with a tiger on it, and yellow galoshes. . .” I fling my hands in the air. “It’s all the same to me.” I point. “Over there. You guys can help him.”

The look on Alexei’s face as he walks away from me almost makes me feel bad. I did offer to help them. But it’s not like God cares which loafers he buys, for heaven’s sake.

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