Merry Christmas! Ho, ho, ho!
A family walks a few yards ahead of us, the little girl holding both her parents’ hands. She looks up at them with pure love in her eyes as they pull her toward the nearby carousel, which is blaring holiday music from every speaker. All three of them are signing off-key.
It’s the most wonderful time of the year…
I drop my eyes and try to breathe through the stinging ache inside my chest.
“Seriously,” I ask Parker when I think my emotions are under control. My voice cracks a bit, despite my efforts. “Are we getting close?”
I don’t know how much more of this I can take.
He nods. “Yep.”
“And?”
“Which part of yep did you not comprehend?”
I shoot him a look. “Just tell me where we’re going.”
“Sorry, I left your copy of the day’s itinerary at home.”
“I don’t need an itinerary. I need basic facts.”
“You are really fucking terrible at being spontaneous, you know that?”
“Spontaneity is irresponsible and overrated.”
“It’s also something else.”
I raise my brows. “Reckless?”
“Fun.” His eyes narrow. “You ever do anything just for fun, Zoe? Ever let those wheels in your head stop spinning for long enough to enjoy yourself?”
No.
I look away. “That’s none of your business.”
“Guess that’s my answer.”
I scowl. “I have fun.”
“Oh, yeah?” he asks. “Doing what? Plotting world destruction? Overthrowing governments? Sabotaging corporate businessmen?”
“Maybe I find that stuff fun.”
“Maybe.” He pauses. “But I have a feeling you’ve never really had fun in your life.”
I slam to a halt and, since our hands are still interlocked, he stops too. “You don’t know anything about me! And, for your information, I have plenty of fun.”
He looks skeptical.
“I…” I trail off. “I run. Three times a week. That’s fun.”
“Running isn’t fun.” Parker shakes his head. “It’s a mandatory activity one partakes in so they can continue to eat copious amounts of tacos.”
I smile, despite myself. “Well, I do other fun things.” My mind spins as I try to think of something — anything — I do for pure enjoyment. “Like… I do graphic design on the side, sometimes.”
“A useful skill,” he says, looking unimpressed. “Not a fun one.”
“Well…” I trail off again. I feel a humiliating blush creeping up onto my cheeks. “Just… Give me a minute, I’ll think of something.”
“Wow. You really don’t do anything for fun.” His voice is incredulous. “That’s just sad, snookums. Pathetic.”
“I do so!” I protest. “And I am not pathetic!”
“I didn’t mean you were pathetic,” he corrects softly, his eyes going gentle in a way that makes me nervous. “I meant it’s a pathetic state of affairs that someone like you doesn’t have a single moment of her day reserved for pure, unadulterated joy.”
“Not all of us have time for hobbies, playboy.” My voice may be a tiny bit defensive. Caustic, even.
He doesn’t seem to notice. “We’re about to make time.”
“What?”
“Come on,” he says, tugging me after him once more.
“Wait!” I drag my heels but it’s no use. “Would you just stop! You promised you were taking me to the flash drive.”
“I am,” he calls over his shoulder, never breaking stride as he leads me off the path onto one of the marina docks jutting out over the water. “Two birds, one stone, darling.”
I sigh. Fighting with him is exhausting — especially since he seems to enjoy it so much. Then again, I’d be lying if I said there isn’t a certain amount of attraction — Shit, I mean amusement — in arguing with the man.
“Oh, cheer up.” He slows his pace a bit until I’ve caught up. “Humor me with this one, tiny detour, and then you’ll get your flash drive back and be rid of me forever, snookums.”
I turn my head to glare at him.
“I mean Zoe,” he corrects, grinning unabashedly. His cheeks are red from the cold. His eyes are gleaming again. He’s annoyingly good-looking.
“Fine,” I mutter because, honestly, it’s easier to cave at this point.
He pumps a fist into the air, victorious, like he’s Judd Freaking Nelson in The Breakfast Club.
“One tiny detour,” I add in a threatening voice. “That’s all I’m agreeing to.”
“Of course,” he agrees readily — he’s so full of shit — before tugging my arm so I stumble into him. We collide, our interlocked hands trapped between our bodies, our sides pressed together as we walk along the dock.
It feels distinctly couple-esque.
Definitely crossing into PDA territory.
And yet… he’s warm. Like a human space heater.