“Right here in New York.” My corned beef is a revelation, too, but that’s no surprise.
He ends up eating the second half, which I can’t possibly touch, thanks to eating what I could of the first half. We both finish our soup, and he expresses appreciation for the latkes before digging into the cheese blintzes with me.
“I need to come here more often, though I’m afraid all my suits would have to be let out.” He pats his extremely firm tummy with a satisfied smile once we’ve both gorged ourselves beyond all measure.
“Don’t worry. We have a ton of walking ahead of us.”
“I’d have to walk all the way home to burn that off, I’m afraid.” He shoots me a wicked grin before we get up from the table. “So, you don’t plan on reenacting that scene from the movie? Throwing your head back and faking ecstasy?”
I snort, like this doesn’t make me go tingly all over. Just the fact that he’s talking about it. “I never fake ecstasy.”
His brows lift. “Hmm. I’ll keep that in mind.”
I don’t know how much more of this flirtation I can handle before taking him into the nearest alleyway and having my way with him. And to think, I thought it was a repulsive notion with Dustin.
The cool night air helps calm the flush on my cheeks as we step outside to catch a cab to Times Square.
“Oh, this is impressive.” Paxton looks genuinely excited, too, when we pull to a stop in front of the Cohan Statue and hop out of the car.
“It’s the center of the whole world, so they say.” I never would’ve imagined having so much fun, simply watching Paxton—this huge, handsome, sophisticated man who grew up as an heir to an oil empire—looking downright gobsmacked by everything.
“This is where the ball drops on New Year’s. I’ve watched it so many times.” He flashes one of those goofy smiles of his, and I’m hooked.
I can’t help it. Never have I met a man I’ve wanted to climb like a tree while also wanting to cuddle and protect his sweet, innocent heart.
“I can’t believe you’ve never visited before. Your family’s had offices here for a long time, haven’t they?”
His smile slips a little. “You’ve been doing your research.”
“Hey, I’m a New York girl. I don’t randomly date anybody if I can help it. That’s what Google is for.”
“Fair enough. No, I haven’t been here for business until this trip. Daddy kept me down on the ranch and in the fields, like I said earlier. It’s only been the last year or so that I’ve been moving into the business end of things. I can understand the method behind his madness. He wanted to make sure I had a firm grasp on the work before turning toward the business.”
“That’s smart. How many businesses have been run into the ground by heirs who didn’t understand the first thing about it?”
“Exactly.” He winds an arm around mine, and I don’t stop him. “You’re a fascinating person. Anybody ever told you that?”
“Not recently. I think my grandmother finds me fascinating but not in the way you’d think.”
“Come on. She smiled at you with all the pride of a grandma who’s happy to have a granddaughter like you. Who wouldn’t be proud?” When I wave a dismissive hand, he shakes his head. “You’re a New York Times best-selling author!”
“Oh? Look who’s been doing his research.”
He laughs it off. “Yeah, well, you’re not the only one who can’t go around, dating just anybody.”
“I’m glad to know I passed muster.”
“You did better than that.” We come to a stop in pretty much the center of everything. It’s as bright as day out here with so many billboards, signs, news tickers. “So, what did you have in mind here?”
“Well, since you’re a newbie to the city, I thought we’d give you the true tourist experience.” With that, I pull him into a shop full of souvenirs. T-shirts, hats, giant sunglasses with NYC written across the lenses—not sure how much good that does, basically blinding whoever’s wearing them.
“This is … charmin’.” Paxton finds a foam hat in the shape of the Statue of Liberty’s crown and plops it on his head with a serious expression.
I have to take a second to compose myself.
“Here. The look’s not complete yet.” I find a few strings of plastic beads with plastic American flags threaded in-between and have him bend down, so I can put them around his neck. There’s a giant pair of sunglasses with apple-shaped frames, so I slide them on him and then drape a scarf with the word fuhgeddaboudit written all over it.
“What’s that mean?” He laughs after trying to pronounce it.
“Come on.” I hold my hand up, fingers joined together and pointed upward. “Fuhgeddaboudit, ya know?” I sneer in my best impression of a Hollywood-style mafioso.
It’s his turn to laugh at me until he almost falls over.
“Okay, I didn’t think it was that funny.”
“You’re adorable.”
“I’m glad you think so since I’m buying all of this junk for you and I fully expect you to wear it outside.”
He shrugs. “Sounds good to me.”
“You’re serious?” I can barely contain myself.
“Sure. If you’re buying, I’ll wear this very classy ensemble outside. Why not?”
I waste no time in getting to the register, where the unamused clerk rings up each price tag with the same blank expression. I guess they get a lot of people like us here. We only think we’re being silly and outrageous.
When we get outside, the effect is incredible. Here’s this six-foot-five hunk of man with shoulders wide enough that I wonder how he makes it through a doorway without turning sideways, wearing this ridiculous getup. He’s impossible to miss.
“I can’t believe you’re actually wearing that.” I can’t stop giggling every time I look up at him.
The foam crown really brings the look together—and makes him that much more visible.
“I feel more myself than I have this entire trip,” he assures me. “Really. This is a freeing experience. I might wear this sort of thing all the time. Who’s to say?”
“Now, I think there’s something in that foam that’s leaking into your brain.”
“I wish I could blame it on the foam, but no. This is me.” He holds his arms out, stopping in his tracks under a billboard for the latest Broadway hit.
“Hey! Can we get a picture?” A pair of girls runs over to us, positioning themselves, one under each outstretched arm. One of them hands me her phone. “Please?”
I look at Paxton, ready for him to brush them off. I mean, fun is fun, but this is ridiculous. He’s not some Times Square attraction, the way some people are in their off-brand cartoon costumes.
“Sure!” He wraps an arm around their shoulders and smiles from ear to ear.
I can’t believe what I’m doing as I take the picture and hand the phone back.
“Who are you?” I ask when it’s just the two of us again. “I expected … I don’t know what I expected exactly, but it wasn’t you. I never would’ve imagined an oil baron’s son posing with strangers in the middle of the square, wearing way overpriced tourist junk.”