His smirk said that I was right. “Maybe.”
“We have to get a picture,” I insisted.
“Obviously.”
We spent a couple of minutes trying to find the best angle and finding someone who would snap the shot for us. Then, I made Lewis take a few shots for me to post on my Olivia Davies page. Back-of-the-head shots for anonymity and all that. Then, I oohed and aahed over the massive tree some more before Lewis guided me to the ice skating rink below.
It wasn’t too packed since it was a Thursday night, and the crowds hadn’t shown up yet. But the line still wrapped around the side of the rink. It had to be at least an hour wait. I wanted to do it, but I didn’t know if I wanted to stand out in the cold that long.
“Are you sure? I mean…the line is pretty long,” I told him.
He grinned mischievously as if he had something up his sleeve. I followed him past the enormous line and straight to the front.
“Ah, yes, Mr. Warren. Lovely to have you this evening,” a man greeted us. “I have everything you requested right here.”
I blinked and then blinked again. I knew he could pull strings. I knew he was a Warren. But, fuck…I wasn’t used to it. Money opened doors. Money closed them in my face, too. And though I was wowed by the gesture, a part of me wished he had made us wait in the line.
I ignored the irritated glances from the people who had been waiting the last hour and followed behind Lewis. We put on skates, which were clearly not the dinky ones everyone else was wearing, and then hobbled to the rink.
“Where did you get these skates?” I asked. “And how did you know my size?”
He stepped onto the ice and held his hand out to me. “I guessed.”
“Uh-huh. Yeah. Sure.” I arched an eyebrow at him.
“Do you really want to know?”
I stared at him, waiting for the answer.
“You wore Katherine’s shoes last year. I know her size. I deduced from there.”
Katherine. My blood ran cold at her name. That was someone I absolutely did not want to see or think about.
“Come on, Nat,” he said softly as if he could read what her name had done to me.
I took his hand because I had to. I was a terrible skater. And Lewis quickly figured that out. He chuckled as he skated circles around me.
“I prefer a swimming pool,” I muttered as I slowly got the hang of it.
“Considering you swam in college, I would think so.”
“For real,” I muttered. “Water should be wet, not solid.”
He chuckled and took my hands to help me around the rink.
We circled the ice a couple of times until I felt like I wasn’t going to fall over at any second. Lewis was clearly an accomplished skater. Half the time, he skated backward and held my hands so that I was more stable. It was adorable in that can’t-get-her-legs-under-her way.
“You’re getting a lot better,” he insisted.
I just laughed at him. “Sure.”
He tugged me closer and skated us to the side of the rink, away from the majority of the other people. It was amazing how he was able to navigate it all backward when I could barely move forward.
“How did you learn to skate like that?”
“My family went to Central Park all the time,” he told me. Then he smiled as if he was remembering a specific memory. “When Charlotte was young, maybe six, she took figure-skating lessons. She darted between activities so often that I thought it would be helpful if I took the classes with her to keep her motivated. I was sixteen or seventeen and easily the best in the class.”
“Oh my god, adorable,” I said. I covered my mouth as I imagined him in a beginner figure-skating class.
“Yeah. They still tease me about it.”
I couldn’t help it. I started giggling. It was impossible not to. This was the part of Lewis that made me forget everything else.
“I love to see that smile,” he said, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear.
My stomach fluttered. Heat spread through my core as my heartbeat ratcheted up. His hand slipped under my jacket, touching bare skin. Shivers traveled down my spine, and I tilted my head up to look at him. He skated me forward against his chest until I was so near that I could feel his breath warm my cheek.
On reflex, I put an arm around his neck. Our eyes locked, asking and giving permission. The moment heating us despite the temperatures.
Then he leaned down and brought our lips together in a searing kiss that spoke of how much he had missed me the last couple of weeks. Dear god, the man could kiss. His lips were pouty and soft and warm. His tongue an adventure. His fingers dug into flesh.