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“Nah, you bullied me into it.” His quick grin was back, though his gaze lingered on my face for a moment before he took in the city buzzing around him. “Is it antlers all December for you?” He patted Pickle’s santa hat, his odd mood dispelled.
“Did not,” I answered his first question and led them through a small arcade. “And it’s antlers from November, thank you very much. As soon as my witch costume comes off for Halloween. Let me show you some of the city’s best kept secrets.”
****
Six hours later, myfeet ached in the best of ways and Pickles walked slowly at my side. Ford’s bright eyes and bushy tail never wavered, pushing on with a sense of curiosity and wonder of the city brought together by tinsel and Christmas lights.
The snow probably helped.
“It doesn’t get like this in Australia, does it?” I crinkled my nose trying to remember, and came up with an image of a big red rock and blue skies. Maybe some surfer dudes that looked like they were cast inPoint Break.
“Not usually. There’s a few places where it gets cold, but that’s about all. Certainly none out my way.”
“Glad you get to experience this then.” I smiled as he turned around on his heel, staring up at the buildings towering over us. “This is where you need to pick up your suit, right? I’ll get Pickles.”
“Appreciate it.” Ford poked his head inside, the door shutting behind him. He reappeared a few minutes later while I was planning out tomorrow’s shortened trip and failing. “Nisha? Can I get an opinion please?”
His manner was formal and reserved, so different from the easygoing alpaca farmer for whom nothing seemed to be a burden apart from weddings.
“Sure.” I tugged on Pickles’ lead but he resisted. “Come on, buddy,” I used Ford’s term of endearment, but the caramel-colored alpaca was having none of it. “Comeon.”
“Dude.” Ford leaned out of the shop, grabbed the halter, and tugged.
The alpaca tugged too, but not moving Ford. He retreated a few steps, pulling Ford out of the shop.
“This isn’t a good idea–” I started.
Pickles beat me to it. He sat suddenly, lurching downward in the middle of the sidewalk camel style in a puddle of slush kicked up by passing traffic and passersby.
I groaned at the sight. “The Plaza isn’t going to like that.” I still wasn’t sure how much Ford paid to get the alpaca into the hotel, but the bribe must have been substantial. Mind, he threw a wad of cash into my pack earlier, and though I hadn’t counted it, I knew those dollars would pay my rent and groceries for well over two months.
All because he doesn’t want to socialize?
I wrinkled my nose. There had to be more to it than that.
Turning to calm both the annoyed alpaca owner and the beast itself–or the other way around–I put out a hand, stepping into Ford. “Maybe you should give him some space. What do you need?”
“I need–”
I never got to find out what Ford needed because Pickles chose that moment to throw a toddler tantrum, tossing his head back as far as a three foot neck can go.
Ford tumbled out of the shop door, his socked feet peddling on ice and landed face first in a pile of slush beside pickles.
“Fuck,” he muttered, levering himself out of the muck.
I covered my mouth with one hand to conceal the snort of laughter that threatened, and patted the alpaca’s back. “There, are you okay now?”
Ford shot me a dirty look. “Thanks,” he said dryly.
“You’re welcome. What did you want?” I twisted in my crouch to stare up at him as he stood. His front was completely covered in slush and muck, but his unbuttoned shirt clung to his body and displayed a slice of ripped abs decorated with tendrils of ink.
My mouth hung open. “Oh, wow.”
“That bad?” He winced, tugging at the saturated material. “I’ll go in and...fix this, Somehow. The legs are too short right?”
“Huh?” I was still staring at his midsection and may have drooled on his alpaca.
“Nisha. Eyes up here,” Ford said softly.
