Violet tilted her head back a little to take in the birds sitting on bare tree branches, the white sky that looked like it would hold true to the forecast of snow later in the evening. “It’s really beautiful in spring and summer. Green, lush, warm. But this is actually my favorite time of year. There’s nothing quite like winter in Central Park.”
Cain looked over at her, and though he said nothing, he seemed to invite her to continue.
Violet inhaled the cool air deeply. “It’s less crowded, the ponds freeze over, and everything just seems so beautifully still. Like you’ve walked into this silent, peaceful moment in time. It’s even better when it snows. Out on the streets, everything gets slushy and dirty fast, but here it stays a winter wonderland just a bit longer.”
He made an unimpressed sound.
“You don’t like snow?” Violet asked.
“I’ve barely seen snow,” he said. “We’re more of a hurricane kind of town, and those rarely go well for us.”
“Ah. Right. Well, you might get a chance later today. Just a dusting. A good introductory snow.”
They paused so Coco could do her business, and after Violet had picked up and disposed of the evidence, Cain shifted so he stood in front of her.
“Give it to me straight, Duchess. What are we doing here? What are you buttering me up for? Walking lessons? Dialect classes? Some fussy auction?”
“Nothing like that,” she said truthfully. “I just thought you might like a day to be in the city without having an agenda.”
He narrowed his eyes and, apparently satisfied with what he saw in her expression, rolled his shoulders a little, as though trying to relax. “I’m hungry.”
She laughed. “I thought you just ate lunch before we met up.”
“I did.”
“All right,” she said, sucking in her cheeks as she considered their options. “There aren’t a lot of restaurants in the park. And most close down in the winter, but we could try—”
“How about that?” Cain interrupted, pointing.
She turned and saw one of the many stands throughout the park that offered hot dogs, soda, and not much else.
“Sure,” she said skeptically, and needlessly, since he was already descending upon it.
Violet followed, overhearing just as he ordered a hot dog, instructing the vendor to not be stingy with the mustard. Cain glanced over. “Want anything?”
Violet shook her head. Cain looked down at her feet. “Coco? Want a wiener?”
“No,” Violet said with a firm laugh. “Not unless you’re picking up the inevitable mess that will follow.”
The corner of his mouth tilted up as he plucked a Coke out of the ice bin. “One of these too.”
The bored-looking vendor nodded and reached for the twenty Cain held out.
“Actually,” Violet said before she even realized she meant to speak. “I’ll have a pretzel. Please. I’ll pay you back,” she added to Cain.
“Don’t worry about it,” he said, accepting the hot dog as well as the enormous soft pretzel wrapped partially in a sheet of parchment paper.
He handed the pretzel to Violet, and she took it almost reluctantly, not entirely sure what had prompted the spontaneous request. She hadn’t had a soft pretzel in… she couldn’t even remember.
They stepped away from the cart, and Cain nodded in the direction of a crowd and music. “What’s that?”
“Ice-skating rink. You interested?”
“In watching? Sure.”
A few moments later they nestled up to the railing and watched the skaters, some of them expertly circling, others awkwardly clambering along the outside edge. Level of skill seemed to have no bearing on the skaters’ happiness level; everyone was smiling.
Cain ate half the hot dog in one bite, chewing it slowly, methodically as he took in the scene. “Bite?” he asked, holding out the hot dog to her. Violet shook her head, though poor Coco wagged her tail hopefully.
Violet broke off a chunk of the pretzel and took a bite, studying the uneaten bit as she chewed. She doubted it would win any pretzel awards. It was a little tough. The salt had been distributed in uneven patches. The tips where the ends crossed over the center loops were a bit too browned.
But it tasted amazing.
“Good?” Cain asked, and she realized his attention had shifted from the skaters to her.
“So good,” she said, eating with more enthusiasm now.
He finished off the last of his hot dog in a bite, and after tossing his wrapper into the nearby trash, broke off a piece of her pretzel without asking and ate that too. Only the tiniest part of her brain considered pointing out the rudeness of his action, because it didn’t feel rude. It felt oddly companionable, and when he bent down to give a tiny piece of the pretzel to Coco, something unfamiliar fluttered in her chest.
She took a couple of more bites, more because it felt right in the moment than because she was actually hungry, then handed the rest to him, which he polished off quickly.