Page 50 of My Queendom for a Horse

“You have a lot of rules,” Aleks says. But he doesn’t argue further, and he doesn’t take my hand again.

I should not be disappointed by that.

I’m not disappointed by that.

“Is it against the rules for us to eat together?” He eyes the pizza place next to us, his nose lifting a bit, sniffing the air.

I doubt he’s ever had pizza. I can’t help wondering whether he’ll like it or hate it. “I guess not,” I say.

The beatific smile that spreads across his face almost makes me regret saying yes.

“But we need to hurry.”

It turns out that he loves pizza. I should have known. Aleks seems to like almost all food—as a horse, and as a man. He eats more than any man I’ve ever seen. But then again, as a horse, he’s always moving. His energy is seemingly limitless, and he really should be spending most of his time grazing. Maybe he needs all the extra calories.

Plus, there’s no telling how much energy he expends to shift. I picked up a wolf shifter book last night, hoping it might shed some light on this whole thing, but there was a lot more dirty sex and a lot less information about shifting than I expected.

That did not help me focus on what matters, which is not my knowledge that no matter what he’s eating, it’s not resulting in surplus calories. His body has no extra fat reserves that I’ve seen, in either form.

Kris. Focus.

“—buy anything for yourself. I’d be happy to stop somewhere else and help you find something you might like.”

“I have clothes,” I say flatly.

His face falls.

“And you have no idea what’s stylish.”

“True fashion transcends fads.” He sounds utterly confident of that.

I suppose, thinking about what he chose in the store, that makes sense. He picked classic trousers, plain but well-made sweaters, and nicely tailored button-down shirts. They’re things that would almost have worked a hundred years ago, and they absolutely look amazing on him now.

Though, a cow feed sack would look good on him—I know that from painfully personal experience.

“What I mean is that I don’t need more clothing.”

“You seemed to need more the other night.” He narrows his eyes.

“On my date?” I laugh. “Generally speaking, guys want you to wear less on dates, not more.”

“I don’t care what guys want. You looked cold.” He straightens his shoulders. “I could help you find something flattering that still keeps you warm.”

“Duly noted,” I say. “But I think I’ll pass.”

By the time I’ve paid the check for dinner and we’re ready to head home, it’s already dark outside. The early sunset thing during the winter gets pretty depressing sometimes.

As I’m climbing into my car, Aleks asks, “Should I drive?”

I almost choke. “Um. No.”

“When we went out to eat with Sean, he drove instead of you. It seems to be a cultural standard for the man to drive when a man and a woman go out.” He points, and I notice two different cars, with the man driving in one, and climbing into the driver’s seat in the other.

“First, you have to have something called a driver’s license here. If you don’t have one, they can do bad things to you. Seeing as you don’t have so much as a photo identification, it’s better if you don’t drive. Also. You can’t drive.”

“But I can. I had the nicest car in two provinces. I quite enjoy driving.”

“And your car probably topped out at twenty miles an hour,” I say. “I think I’ll be the one driving, thanks.”

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