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“The FCMC building?” I wrinkled my nose as Ford turned on his heel to stare up at the behemoth. “Recently built. The dust and pollution was horrendous, though it went up fast. A security firm for celebrities, apparently, a whole plethora of law firms and the owner has a portfolio that seems to cover half the globe, or so I’ve heard. The bottom floors are rented out to local businesses. Rumors also say the penthouse bathrooms are gilt in gold and silver with green marble,” I gossipped readily, walking on to avoid Ford’s intense stare as his gaze shifted to me, pinning me where I stood, slightly more breathless than before. “Purchased by some foreign party, apparently. I haven’t looked into who, but I can, if you’re interested. Though I also heard there was a calamity of some sort and it was up for sale. Do I have a snowflake on my nose or something?” I chattered on for a moment then stared at him, my hands on my hips.
Pickles stopped, too, looking curiously at Ford.
“No, you’re cute as a button.” His gaze softened as he looked at me. “Keep up that whirlwind attitude. It’s refreshing. I need more of that.”
I tilted my head to one side, resuming my tour with a quick rundown of the other businesses around us including the Apple building if only to break the tension wrapped around him. Ford had a hard side, maybe the business ethic that allowed him to stuff several thousand dollars at a girl he didn’t know, and bribe the formidable Plaza to allow his alpaca inside.
“What, they don’t move fast where you’re from?” I teased lightly.
“Hell, no.” Ford let out a laugh that did fun things to my insides.
He’s just a job.
“So, slow and sleepy and...country bumpkin?”
Pickles hummed and turned another corner.
“Yup, that’s me. All the slow things.” Ford tugged on Pickles’ lead. “Who’s holding this tour anyway, buddy?”
“Why do you have an alpaca in tow?” He looked so lost the day before, I just kind of went with it. NYC was like that. Lots of people who looked like they never stopped or slept, but it wasn’t them who were standing still.
“He’s meant to be finding a lady friend, but she wasn’t available and I couldn't reach the owners I arranged to meet up with upstate. I’ve got another five boys on loan out for stud in Cali to collect on my way home, but they can stay for a few months to get the job done if necessary. Or we can freeze the goods and they can be used at will.”
“That’s not very romantic, is it?” I scratched Pickles’ ears. “We’ll get you a date, big guy. Got any talents?”
“He sings,” Ford muttered under his breath, snorting when I glanced at him with two eyebrows raised. “When he approaches a female he sort of hums and grunts, even if he’s a good twenty feet away, like getting in the mood. When he stops, about twenty minutes later, the deed is done. My nephew from Sydney calls it, “Pickles’ happy song.’”
“Beautiful. You know I’m going to use that anecdote sometime on a tour.”
“Go go right ahead. I have zero shame.”
I grin. “What happened to reduce that?”
Ford didn’t answer, reading a shop sign. “I think this is where I have to pick up my suit later. For the wedding.”
“Ahh, the wedding. We’ve all heard about it,” I sighed dramatically. “There have been suppliers running ragged to get things to the Plaza all December. If you listen to that sort of gossip.”
“And you do.”
“I do. Kind of my bread and butter to know who is doing what. Tourists love that sort of stuff. What do you like, though?” I asked, keen to tailor his NYC experience since his alpaca seemed so cute.
Also, his owner.
Stop that.
I swore my head was in the clouds as I took note of the shop name. “When do you need to collect your suit?”
“This afternoon at four.”
I rearranged the map in my head so we would finish at the right time on the correct side of the street for him. “Okay, we can do that.”
“The rehearsal dinner is tonight. And a few old friends want to head out after.” He grimaced.
Socializing wasn’t his thing? He came across as easy going, but hey, I met the man all of a day ago. “You’re not a fan?” I frowned. “Aren’t you celebrating with your friend?”
“Let’s just say I have a history of shitty pre-wedding arrangements. I might not be very talkative tomorrow,” he admitted. “Fair warning. Plus the wedding is in the afternoon..”
I walked a block in silence, turning his words over in my head. “Is that why you aren’t keen to do all the socializing and jazz, spending your days with me so easily instead?”
