Page 95 of At His Beck & Call

“I shouldn’t have done that, Lissa,” I say firmly. “I’m so sorry.”

She huffs irritably, blowing her hair out of her eyes as her breath billows out around us in a cloud.

“What did you do to my underwear, you brute?” she hisses. “They’re ripped in two.”

“I’m sorry,” I say again, but to my astonishment, there’s amusement in her eyes now.

“I cannotbelieveyou just did that,” she says, smoothing her hair back. She gives me another incredulous look, but there’s still humor in her eyes.

“I know. I swear I’ll make it up to you.”

“Well, to start with, you can escort me out of this alley.”

I do just that, heading to the end of the alley to check if the coast is clear, and that there are no onlookers with cameras.

But everyone on the main street has their heads down against the cold. The snow is thicker now, coming down in huge flakes.

Lissa emerges from the alley, immediately looking for a cab, but I shake my head, holding her back as I see red and blue flashing lights on the main road.

“That doesn’t look good,” I say as she stares ahead of me at the sight of another crash. That one is worse, shattered glass from the windshield scattered at the top of the street. “Do you have far to go?” I ask.

“Not really. It’s about a five-block walk.”

“Alright, I propose we walk then. It’s the safest way to go with all this snow.”

“We?” she asks incredulously, her eyebrows raising. She’s flushed, her lips red, mascara a little smudged, and it takes all my strength not to drag her back into the alley for round two.

“Yes, ‘we’. I’m not leaving you out here alone like your pitiful excuse for a date just did.” I clench my jaw as a little smile spreads over her face.

“I’ve never seen you jealous before.”

“I’m not jealous.”

“Uh-huh,” she says, with an infuriating little quirk of her lips, and begins to walk ahead of me.

She reaches the end of the street and turns right, and I fall into step beside her. It really is bitterly cold now, the snow settling on our shoulders as we walk. Lissa doesn’t have a heavy enough coat on and is visibly shivering.

“Wait here,” I say suddenly as we pass one of the little street vendors that cater to tourists. I go up to him, buy an NYC knit hat, then go back to her and hand it over. “You’re freezing; please wear it.”

Lissa laughs at it, but she puts it on her head, looking adorable with the little pompom on top. We continue walkingup the street, horns a constant cacophony as we go, the traffic getting worse with the accident behind us.

Eventually, we head down a quieter street as Lissa gets out her phone and checks Google Maps.

“Have you been here before?” I ask.

“Many times, but I’ve got a horrible sense of direction. Are we heading for the pin?” She hands me the phone, and I double-check it.

“Yes. But that’s a lot less than five blocks; we should almost be there.”

“Really?” she asks, frowning up at me. “It says twelve minutes.”

“By car. By foot, we’re almost there.”

“Oh, thank god, it’s freezing.” She hesitates, glancing at me. “You can go now, if you need to,” she says, but the pause in her voice makes me think that maybe she wants me to stay.

I’m desperate to remain with her for as long as possible, and I hand back her phone, putting my hands in my coat.

“I don’t have anywhere I need to be. Is this where you live?”