Page 28 of Royal Icing

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

She raised an eyebrow. “I’m sure that I’m going to push you into a snowbank if you prevent me from finding those nuts.”

Another smile. Damn it, she was funny. “I just meant…people might assume things.”

She waved a hand flippantly. “Let ’em talk. We both know exactly what this is.”

“And what is this?” The question slipped out in a rush of condensation. Shit. He hadn’t meant to say that.

CHAPTER TEN

EMMA

Her mouth wentslack at Leo’s question. What the hell was that supposed to mean? Surely he was joking. They both knew this was little more than an apology or maybe a business transaction. Right?

“This is a clandestine nut-fetching mission, obviously,” Emma joked to break the sudden tension.

Leo smiled, but it didn’t seem as genuine as the one he’d given her earlier. “Right. Nuts, which I will buy as a thank you for saving my life.”

“I’ll allow it.” She crossed the threshold of the archway and stepped into the market. Her stomach growled. She hadn’t really had a square meal since she got here, just bites of rejected pastries.

She swiveled to take in the hustle and bustle. It wasn’t the larger-than-life extravaganza she found in every neighborhood in New York. Hollybrook’s festivities were smaller, subtler. Almost illegally quaint. Instead of six-story projections timed to music, simple star lanterns hung from awnings. Red bows adorned lampposts, and storefronts were draped with garland. Vendors in booths sold everything from crafts to food to slightly creepy wooden puppets. A scatter of stars was visible over thevapor of their breath, and she stopped to take them in. Stars were an uncommon sight in the city.

The stupidly romantic atmosphere of the market had to be to blame for her lack of focus. The twinkling lights were like an Instagram filter, showcasing a romanticized version of Leo. The strength of his chin, the dimple in his right cheek when he smiled. His glasses from earlier were gone, and strong, dark brows showcased the deep brown of his eyes.

She hadn’t given much thought to romance in a long time. Not since Douchey Dylan had dumped her by text three weeks after her mom’s stroke. It wasn’t a great loss. Even when they had been together, their relationship had been shallow. While the companionship—and the sex—had been nice, she had never let him below the surface where the dark things were. She had never been good at relationships.

Besides, there was no room for a relationship when a paper-thin wall separated her bedroom from her mom’s. Her plan had always been the same since Lisa’s accident: save enough money to quit Crumb and Get It, freelance for the duration of the noncompete year, open her own business, and find a way to get her mom better care. That was what she needed to focus on, not some broody Christmas-hating prince who hadn’t mastered the art of chewing and swallowing.

“You know what else would be a great way to thank me?” she asked.

“What?”

“Some insider information on your mom. I interrogated poor Ruby, but all she said was your mom likes cardamom.”

He put a hand on the small of her back, gently guiding her through the throng. Even though they were separated by a marshmallow-sized layer of jacket, her spine tingled.

“I suppose it’s the least I could do,” he said. “Do you drink wine?”

“Do raccoons have an insatiable hunger for deviled eggs?” she asked.

She was talking nonsense again. There was no reason to be nervous. It wasn’t like this was a date.

He stopped to look at her. “I don’t know how to answer that question.”

They had arrived at the wine tent. “Two, please,” he said.

The salesperson’s eyes lit up. She curtsied, and he nodded at her. Her gaze shifted to Emma, who smiled.

There was something bizarre about accompanying a royal person. Was this what ordinary people who married celebrities felt like? She had a feeling she was going to be taking a lot of pictures for people.

Orange peels and mulling spices perfumed the air. She inhaled deeply before fishing for her wallet.

“No,” he said, closing a hand over her wrist. “I’m paying tonight.”

Not because it was a date. Because he was thanking her for saving his life.

“Well, thank you.”