“The only game worth watching, of course. Calgary versus Vancouver. Hockey, Nina,” he added, when she was still staring at him in confusion.
“Okay.” She smiled. “But for the record, I know nothing about hockey.”
“Don’t worry, I know enough for both of us,” Jamie said easily, and started toward the student lot on the edge of campus.
Nina trotted to keep up. “You didn’t want to get one of those permits that let you park anywhere?” Jeff’s protection officer had one; his car sometimes idled right outside the classrooms, on the narrow driveways that were supposed to be for university service vehicles only.
“I get enough special treatment as it is.”
“Right, being a prince must be so hard,” Nina deadpanned.
“Being a prince? Nah, I get special treatment because of my devastating good looks,” Jamie replied without missing a beat. He led her to a sedan that was surprisingly un-flashy, and opened the passenger door with a flourish.
Nina couldn’t remember Jeff driving her anywhere himself, then was angry with herself for thinking about Jeff at all. He certainly hadn’t spent any time lately thinking about her.
When they pulled up to a bar, Nina took one look at the red-and-white painted sign and laughed. “The Maple Leaf? Isn’t that on the nose?”
“Since we can’t go to Canada tonight, this is the next best thing,” Jamie informed her. “And don’t worry, no one here will post anything. There won’t be any media coverage of our date,” he added clumsily.
So it was a date.
“That’s good, because I hate being photographed.”
“I know.” Jamie grinned. “If you didn’t mind being famous, you wouldn’t make it so hard for me to ask you out.”
Nina choked on a laugh. She couldn’t help it; there was something about Jamie, an irrepressible sense of mischief that reminded her of how things had once been between her and Jeff, back when they were just friends—before the night of graduation when they first kissed, and everything got so complicated.
Except that he was different from Jeff. Beneath the riotous laughter and cavalier charm, Jamie carried a streak of loneliness. Someone had hurt him. It made Nina wonder how many people he truly trusted.
They stepped through the front doors, and Nina noted with surprise that the Maple Leaf was pretty empty. There were just a few guys in sports jerseys gathered around the flat-screen TV on the far wall, none of whom paid her and Jamie any mind.
Jamie gestured to the bar, and Nina perched on a stool. A bartender with a high ponytail came toward them. “What can I get for you?”
“A pitcher of Labatt, thanks.”
When the bartender returned with their beer and two mugs, Jamie insisted on paying. Nina’s eyes widened.
“Twenty-five dollars for a pitcher of beer? That’s extortion!”
He handed over his credit card, clearly amused. “This beer is the national drink of Canada. It’s imported; of course it’s more expensive.”
“Did someone literally walk down from Canada carrying the keg on their back? Otherwise you were ripped off!”
“Just try it,” Jamie insisted. Nina sighed and did as he asked. “Well?” he prompted.
“It is good beer,” she admitted.
His eyes twinkled with delight. “Better than American draft beer. Right?”
“Okay, fine, it’s delicious. Are you happy?”
“Inordinately happy. Beer is one of the many things that Canada does better than America.”
Nina leaned an elbow onto the surface of the bar and took another long sip of beer. “What else is on this list?”
“Poutine, first and foremost. It’s such an upgrade from French fries. Or cheese tots,” he added, with a sidelong look at Nina. “And our slang is better. Did you know we say cheers when we leave people, instead of goodbye? It’s so much more uplifting.”
“Because cheers makes you think of clinking glasses,” Nina pointed out.
“And Canada trumps America where princes are concerned,” Jamie added cheekily. “The Prince of Canada is higher ranking and, we can all admit, vastly better-looking than the Prince of America.”
Nina made a noise that was somewhere between a cough and a strangled cry of outrage. “I can’t believe you just said that!”
“You were thinking it. I’m just the one who said it aloud.”
“You’re terrible,” Nina protested, but her insult didn’t land because of the laugh that was bubbling out of her chest.
“Of course I am. I’ve been told it’s a large part of my appeal.”
Nina’s laughter faded, and she shifted on her barstool to look Jamie full in the face. “Jeff is in class again, now that Beatrice is better. You might run into him on campus.”
“So?”
“So, I thought you’d want to know, since you and Jeff are apparently in some kind of silent competition! Are you ever going to tell me what that’s all about?”
Jamie’s blue eyes fixed on hers. “I will if you tell me who hurt you.”
Nina must have flinched, because his expression instantly softened. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude.” He grabbed his beer mug, then set it down again. “I get this feeling sometimes, in rehearsal, that you’re thinking of someone who caused you pain.”
Jamie probably thought Jeff was the one who’d hurt her, and he had. But so had Daphne.
“It’s a long story,” Nina warned.
He nodded. “It goes without saying that I won’t tell anyone, if you want to share it.”
And the thing was, Nina did trust him.
She explained how she and Daphne had teamed up against Gabriella, how Nina had thought they were becoming unlikely friends, only to learn that Daphne had been playing her the whole time: trying to keep her far from Jeff.
When she finished her story, Jamie frowned. “Didn’t Daphne’s family lose their baronetcy anyway? How did that fit into her plan?”
“I…” Nina hesitated. Why had she never considered this crucial detail? An uneasy regret spiked through her, and she almost reached for her phone, but now wasn’t the time.
“What happened between you and Jeff?” she asked, flipping the focus back to Jamie.
He stared down into his half-full beer. “Jeff broke up my parents’ marriage.”
Nina stared at him, dumbfounded. Whatever she’d expected, it wasn’t this.