“I do enjoy kissing a beautiful woman.”
Wait, what?
I turn to him and notice he’s nothing but happy right now. Perhaps he’s used to women throwing themselves at him; in which case, he’ll just dismiss it and not let me die from embarrassment.
“Well, you’re an excellent teacher. When I kiss Branson for the first time, I’ll have a higher expectation.” I take a seat and look over at Hunter. His grin is now gone, and his eyes are searching the floor. “So, what do I do with all this? I can’t just walk up to Branson tomorrow and lay my hands on him, tell him his blue eyes are mesmerizing, and make out with him.”
His brows curve as he turns his head to me. With a pursed mouth, he seems to be considering something as he puts his focus back on the bar and plays with his glass. “No, you can’t do that.”
“I need another drink.” I raise my hand to get the bartender’s attention, but Hunter puts his on my wrist, pulling it back.
“I’m not in the business of telling women what they can and cannot do, but you had a few glasses of champagne at the party and two whiskey doubles. I think you should leave on a good note.”
I lower my shoulders in surrender. “You’re right.”
As I slide off the stool, I have to catch my balance for a second.
Hunter holds my elbow, steadying me. “Okay, kid, looks like you need a chaperone.”
“You can’t call me sexy and beautiful one minute and then kid the next.”
He laughs. “Of course I can.”
“It makes me feel like a child. I’m not that much younger than you,” I state, knowing he’s thirty-two. Sure, it’s a fair amount older, but after that kiss, that nickname suddenly feels childish.
“What if I told you it was a Casablanca thing?” he asks, and I stare at him, puzzled. He kisses the top of my head and then helps me get my coat on before sliding his on as well. “Let’s get you home.”
Chapter Three
We weave through the crowd and out of the pub.
There aren’t any available taxis on the street, so I hitch my thumb down the road. “I’m not too far. I can walk.”
“Where’s home?” he asks, closing the buttons on his overcoat.
“Only a few blocks that way.” I point in the uptown direction.
With his hands in his pockets, he starts heading toward where I just motioned. “If you think I’m letting you walk home by yourself, you’re out of your mind.”
I scurry next to him, keeping up with his long strides. “You don’t have to do that.”
He ignores my comment and keeps moving.
While the city is filled with holiday joy of all religions, there is definitely the warmth of Christmas overpowering every corner. We pass wreaths on doors and giant lights strung over the picture windows on storefronts. Men in Santa suits ring bells for charity while a woman on a corner plays a classic carol on a violin for money.
“I love the city during Christmastime,” I sing out happily. “Have you ever gone ice-skating at Rockefeller Center?”
Hunter scoffs, “No. That’s a tourist trap.”
“What about Macy’s to see Santa? Or the lights at Saks? Oh, you have to have seen the nativity at St. Patrick’s Cathedral,” I assume.
He shakes his head as he walks casually through the chill. “Never.”
I want to question him more, but my other favorite thing about the holidays in New York comes into view. “Chestnuts!” I beam as I see a cart with nuts roasting.
The scent alone is enough to lure me closer and open my purse to get money for a bag. Hunter puts a hand over mine in a way that tells me he doesn’t want me to pay and then orders caramelized peanuts for himself. We’re each handed a small bag, and he gives cash to the vendor, telling him to keep the change as a tip.
The heat from the bag feels good on my cold fingertips. Sliding off my glove, I unpeel one of the nuts, pop it in my mouth, and let out a moan.
“I take it, you’re enjoying that?” There’s a jovial tone to his question.
“Heavenly,” I sigh before reaching in, grabbing another, and starting to unpeel it. “Try this.”
He holds up his hand in refusal. “No, thank you.”
“Come on. It’s a New York Christmas tradition.”
I lift the nut to his mouth, and he begrudgingly opens wide for me. His lips wrap around my fingers as he takes a bite. I let out a shiver from his closeness.
“Good?” I ask, trying to hide my reaction.
“It’s horrible,” he says with a mouthful. I wait for him to swallow. “Chestnuts roasting on an open fire is some romantic idea from a song. No one said you should eat them. They taste like cardboard.”
I let out a harrumph. “It’s the sensation they give you, all warm and comforting. They make you feel like you’re swallowing love.”
“I’m going to ignore that opening to make a really inappropriate comment and jump on the fact that you don’t even like the way they taste. You just like the way they remind you of the holidays.”
“I never said that.”
“You did when you mentioned sensation right before you mentioned swallowing love.” A laugh threatens to escape him, but his grin is evident.
“You’re hopeless.”
“I’m fun,” he corrects.
“Childish,” I say with a smile.
He doesn’t disagree as he opens his bag and holds up a cluster of peanuts. “Are you ready to have something truly delicious in your mouth?”
When I nod, he slips the nuts through my lips, and damn, the sweet and salty goodness puts my chestnuts to shame.
My tongue is still salivating from how yummy his nuts are, but I keep my lips pursed and shrug in indifference. “They’re fine.”
“You’re the worst liar.”
The dimples that appear on his cheek makes me lose my cool, and I end up letting out a huge laugh. “Gosh, fine. Your nuts are delicious.”
Yes, I realize how dirty that sounded, and I lean up and put a hand over Hunter’s mouth before he can say anything crude. I can feel his smile widening against my palm, so I snatch his bag of nuts out of his hand and replace it with mine.
“Glad you’re enjoying those,” he croons as he scrunches the bag and slides them into his coat pocket.
“I would enjoy them even more if we swung by Saks Fifth Avenue and watched the lights dance on the sides of the building.”
“You really are trying to get me to like your commercialized Christmas, aren’t you?”
“What, are you the Grinch?”
“The merriest I get is a mulled wine and a cigar by the fire.”
Just the thought of a fire has me wrapping my arms around myself. “A cozy snuggle by the fire sounds awesome. We’d have cocoa and lie on a large fur blanket with no lights, except for those coming from the embers and the Christmas tree lit in the corner.”
After a moment, I realize he’s not walking anymore. I turn to see him looking at me with a twinkle in his eye and a small smile tugging at the side of his mouth.
“How do you always manage to be this wistful?”
I shrug at his curious stare. “A happy heart, I guess. Is that a bad thing?”