Page 34 of My Dark Horse Prince

“How about this?”

I jump at the sound of Grigoriy’s voice. He’s standing right behind me, holding a reasonably large stack of men’s clothes. He must have noticed that I’m struggling—Kris and Aleks each have a similar, albeit smaller, pile, but I’m holding nothing.

“What?” I wave him off with my fingers, releasing my hold on the handle of one crutch. “I’m fine.”

“You were probably distracted by how fabulously beautiful I was as a horse, but I actually make an excellent pack mule.” He winks.

“Having seen your horse form,” I whisper, “I don’t think pack mule is a good fit.” Frankly, seeing his human form, no part of him fits with me—the broken, damaged girl.

He preens a bit. “I may not be the showy black stallion that Aleks is, but I’m not so bad-looking either.”

“I’ve always preferred chrome on my horses.” What am I doing? Kris was right. I am flirting. I clamp my lips together.

“You don’t say.” He grins so broadly this time that I can see all his shiny, white teeth. I can’t imagine they had bleach a hundred years ago, but I swear it looks like they did. He must not drink much coffee, and there’s no way he smokes.

“Don’t worry about me,” I say. “Just go find things for yourself over there.” I toss my head at the men’s section. “I’m always the same size. I’ll grab a few things and be just fine.”

“Aleks says they have rooms where you can put the clothes on to make sure you like them.” He scrunches his face a bit. “I can’t say that I love the idea of wearing things that have been on some other man’s body.” He exhales. “But apparently you need to make sure these ready-made clothes fit properly.”

“Ready-made?”

“In my day, clothing was made to order, always.” He shrugs. “Not as efficient, but much more practical. Things you bought always fit.”

I hadn’t even thought about that. “Today is your day now though, right? It’s not like you can go back in time.”

He blinks. “I suppose not.” He smiles. “So I may as well get used to it.” He plucks a purple blouse off a rack. “This one is nice. It should look pretty with your eyes.”

Maybe with Kris’s blue ones. “Mine are brown.”

He steps closer. “They aren’t. They’re the exact color of a dark, rich sherry.” His voice is so low, so intimate, that it makes me shiver. “This purple will accent them perfectly.”

I can’t scrounge up the will to argue with that, so I just balance on one crutch and snatch the blouse. That’s when I realize it’s big. Like, really big. “What size do you think I am?” I arch one eyebrow and tilt my head.

“Excuse me?”

“This is a triple extra large.”

His brows draw together.

“I’m not tiny like Kris, but I’m not a triple extra large, either.” I shove it back toward the rack.

He practically spins around, peering at the clothing. “How do you know the size?”

“It’s on the tag.” I’m so annoyed that I start to move away.

“Wait.” He shoves another blouse at me—same cut and color, but a new size. “Here.”

I accept it, far less annoyed than I’m acting for some reason, and glance at the tag. “An extra small?” I heave another sigh. “Really?”

“I’m an extra small.” A very cute, very small blond with a huge rack slides up next to us, her lips curved into a coquettish smile. “And I love that color.” She’s practically purring.

Kris might claw her eyes out.

She licks her lips and gazes up at Grigoriy, batting her eyes.

Maybe Kris would just straight up punch her.

But she’s exactly the kind of girl Grigoriy should be with. She looks more than ready to get married, and they’re almost a match, in terms of attractiveness.

---