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“Well, maybe not as much as some. But, enough to get the concept.”
“Fine. Give me an example, then.”
She paused for a moment. “Right, well… Chocolate, right? I could look at a huge chocolate cake and decide that I want to eat all of it. But I also know I shouldn’t because otherwise I’d be sick or get fat or whatever. Plus, I have never done anything in my life that deserves the reward a whole chocolate cake.”
Comparing the turmoil she both caused and calmed in me with wanting chocolate cake went a long way to lightening the mood.
“Is this thing you have for chocolate cake something that should make Carter jealous… Or?”
“Very cute. Like my love for John, Mason is well aware of my love for chocolate cake.”
“And, this is all Johns and all chocolate cakes, or just certain ones?”
“One John and one chocolate cake. Mud cake. Dense and dark and moist– What?” She stopped when I failed to keep a laugh in.
“Nothing. I just can’t with that word.”
“Moist isn’t a dirty word, Roman.”
I couldn’t help but laugh as my arm tightened around her shoulder. “No, I don’t suppose it is. Funny though, and gives a guy all sorts of ideas.”
“Well, you can take those ideas and leave them in the gutter where they belong.”
This was it. This was better. This, I – we – did well.
“Ah, Barlow. Any guy who told you he didn’t get ideas around you has to be lying. But I shall be a gentleman and keep them to myself.”
“There goes that word again,” she sassed. “Anyone who told you they thought you could be a gentleman has to be lying. But as a lady, I won’t go spreading it around.”
That made me chuckle and I instinctively pulled her closer. “You think you’re a lady, do you?”
“I do.”
“How many ladies do you know who wear short shorts and ugg boots?” I snorted.
“Lady Piper of Barlow was famous for them,” she said, full of exaggerated pomp.
She made me proper laugh. “Of course, she was.”
“Caused a bit of a scandal at court, you understand. But she was a trendsetter.”
It would be incredibly easy for someone to fall in love with Piper Barlow. She was at once so confident and self-assured, but then also had these moments of true vulnerability. I couldn’t help myself. I kissed her. Her hair, but that was dangerous enough. The feel of the soft, silky strands against my lips had that calming yet chaotic effect on me, but I strangled it down.
“I’ll bet she was,” I told her. “She seems happy at least.”
“She is.”
Her voice was all happiness. Something I didn’t think I’d heard before. The sudden realisation hit me that there might have been an external factor. One outside the bubble I’d created for myself the past few days. I felt doused in ice water at the reminder that some other guy was supposed to be laying his claim on her. Maybe he already had.
“Heard a lot from Carter, then? He regaling you with tales of his travels?”
“He is actually,” she said, and I very nearly jumped right out of that tray and didn’t look back. Then she continued. “But it’s the resident underachiever actually who seems to have this weird habit of de-funking me.”
I forced myself to relax. Fight or flight had been heavily engaged, sweeping over me in a very unexpected torrent. And I wasn’t the flight kind of guy. I wanted to hit something. Multiple somethings. Bonus points if they hit me, too. Or I could take a deep breath and just be with her.
“Not that I’d tell him. What with that being stupid nancy words and all,” she finished.
Calm descended over me again with that inexplicable way she had. “No, ‘course. He wouldn’t appreciate it anyway, I’d bet. Too stupid.”
