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Istood outside thePlaza covered in a light snow that dusted me head to toe, holding an alpaca harness while Ford figured out currency.
“I promised I wouldn't be caught without change after yesterday,” he muttered, flicking notes over and peering at them
“This isn’t how I saw today going either,” I assured Pickles, who grunted softly and shuffled around me, inhaling the pom poms on my dress. “Don’t you eat my elf suit.”
“He might take a nibble,” Ford admitted. “I think he misses sharpening his teeth on the gum trees at home.”
I shot him a look at the apparently constantly ravenous alpaca who nuzzled me. “They do that?”
“Nope,” Ford said cheerfully, finally figuring his tips out and handing me a wad of cash while he stuffed everything else–including his passport–into his back pocket. “Here.”
“You’re gonna get robbed,” I sighed, flapping two free fingers on the hand holding Pickles’ halter. “Give it over. I’ll zip it up.”
“Thanks.” Ford ignored my fingers, unzipping my pouch and stuffing his passport and the wad of cash he retrieved from my other hand inside. “Appreciate it.”
“Whoa, I’m not your camel,” I protested. “Nor am I your maid. I’m not carrying your cash.” My idea of taking Ford touring fast lost its glitter, but those deep blue eyes still held my attention.
Ford grinned at me. “I’m not letting you work for free at Christmas, Nisha.”
“Huh?” I blinked owlishly at him. “Wha– no. Nope,” I repeated firmly. “That’s way too much.”
“No take backs.” Ford wound his hand around the halter rein, his knuckles grazing my hand as he tried to relieve me of my burden. “Uh, can I have my alpaca back now please?” he asked, grinning impishly.
My eyes narrowed, and I tried to ignore the sparks that lit my skin like a Christmas tree wherever he touched me. “You aren’t half the bumpkin you pretended to be yesterday, are you?” I accused him.
“Me?” His eyes sprang open wide. “I would never.”
I snorted. “Bullshit.” Too late I remembered Jeremiah’s comment about dating and nice men and foul mouths...but on second reflection, Ford didn't seem to care.
He shook his head, laughing at me. “Damn, girl. You’re good value.”
“You live here.” I put my hands on my hips, determined to get the truth he wasn’t telling me out into the open between us.
Ford pointed to himself. “Aussie. Accent.” He laid on the slang thick enough to butter a vegemite sandwich, though his gaze shifted, a slight tint of pink reddening his nose.
I waggled a finger in his face. “Rubbish. Then you have lived here before.”
He shrugged easily. “You got me. I’m in town for Rex and Chelsea’s wedding. I roomed with Rex at Columbia for a year at college.”
“Oh.” I started walking. Pickles followed me, honking softly and dragging his owner along with him. “What did you study?”
“Economics, and law.”
I stopped. “You’re a lawyer?”
“I’m a business owner,” he said with the slightest hesitation. “I run alpacas and a few other things from Western Australia, though I travel a bit. Usually unaccompanied.” He gave Pickles a pointed look.
“Mhmm.” I made a disgruntled noise. Pickles honked his approval. “Thank you.” I ruffled his fluff and fixed his bucket, leaning in confidentially. “I think he’s full of it too. Where do you want to go?”
Pickles turned a corner. I talked as we walked with the alpaca in the lead–why not, after all?–pointing out the Rockefeller Centre, The William Tecumseh Monument and Tiffany & Co., in case he had a special someone to buy for.
“Do you?” I asked idly, when he stopped and stared in the window.
Ford flashed me a grin. “Never have time to stop for that long.” He lingered a moment longer, staring at the reflection of a huge skyscraper recently built behind us. Its green and gold tinted windows flashed in the glare from the clouds above as it finally stopped snowing lightly.
Sunlight shone through the clouds in ahallelujahmoment.
