Maid for Each Other(58)

But I was also a practical person and could absolutely work around feelings even if they didn’t make sense.

So I guess inviting her here was my attempt to make it make sense.

“If I lived in Manhattan, I would come here every day,” she said, standing on top of the rock and looking out over the Central Park pond. “I mean, just look at that.”

She pointed out in the direction of Midtown.

“Yes, I’ve seen it,” I said, wanting to laugh. “And I run here in the morning when it’s nice out.”

“You do?” she asked, looking surprised. “It’s nowhere near your place, though, is it?”

“No, but it’s near my office,” I said. “So Leonard takes me to the park early, I run, and then I head into work.”

“Seriously?” she asked, her eyes all lit up like I’d just confessed to riding a golden unicorn to work each morning.

“Seriously,” I said, nodding and letting myself imagine her going with me. “It’s nice in the fall.”

“God,” she said on a sigh, shaking her head. “Running in Central Park in the fall; what a dream.”

“We’d walk if you lived here, Mariano,” I said, nudging her with my elbow. “I’d only let you run in summer, when the ragweed wouldn’t torture your lungs.”

Her smile went away, and she looked up at me with a wrinkle in her forehead.

“What?” I asked.

She shook her head. “Nothing.”

“That’s not me being controlling,” I backtracked, realizing my words. “I know I’m not the boss of you.”

“I know.” She blinked fast a few times, like she was thinking, and then she said, “What are we doing for dinner?”

I had trouble catching up for a second.

“Wait. You’ve had a hot dog, a gyro, and a pretzel—are you still hungry?”

“Well, not yet, it’s barely past lunchtime,” she said. “But I’m always thinking about my next meal. Everything here smells so fantastic.”

“In the park?”

“In the city,” she corrected.

“Well, what are you in the mood for?” I asked, looking at her. I resisted the urge to pull my phone out and take a photo of her on the rock.

“Maybe we should just walk around over in that direction and think about it. Walk until we pass by the perfect place to have dinner.”

“Well,” I said, a little distracted by the way the wind was blowing her hair around her face and the way she looked in those huge sunglasses. “If we don’t have reservations, we probably can’t eat at a perfect place.”

“Okay, so do you have a favorite restaurant that usually fits you in?” she asked. “Where the owner calls you ‘Dekkie’ and always says you’re too skinny?”

“I’d never go back to a place where someone called me that.”

She rolled her eyes. “Spare me the macho and find me a good Italian place, Dekkie. I’m kind of in the mood for spaghetti and meatballs.”

“I’ll think while we walk, Abster.”

So we spent the entire afternoon walking around with no end goal. It sounded boring on paper, but I had a great time.

I took pictures of her in front of both the Simon & Schuster and Penguin Random House offices, helping her manifest her work being in print someday. And she took pictures of me eating an ice cream cone in Times Square because she found it to be hilarious.

I still wasn’t sure why.

The day was perfect.

So perfect that I ended up accidentally kissing her.

She was standing beside me, laughing after I’d pushed her ice cream cone against her mouth so she had a vanilla smile, but when I looked down at her, I couldn’t stop myself.

I needed a taste.

“Abs, you’ve got a little something right…here,” I said, touching her bottom lip with my finger.

But as soon as my eyes focused on her mouth and she looked up at me with a question in her eyes, I heard myself ask, “May I?”

She started to nod and that was it.

I was on that vanilla, my mouth finding hers and going deep.

God, there was something about kissing her. It was like I’d never kissed anyone before, or like Abi did something differently. Because the second our lips met, every time, I turned into a wild animal.

Her tongue was cold as it tangled with mine, her lips and teeth busy making me crazy. Nipping, grazing, sliding. Her hands found my face—I fucking loved that—and she went up on her tiptoes, kissing me back like she felt like a wild animal, too.

I pulled her closer, damn near groaning from the feel of every inch of her body pressed against mine. My hands were dangerously low on her back and they were shaking as I forced myself not to pull her even closer.

Obscenely closer.

“Fuck,” I whispered into her mouth, then lifted my head. “Abi.”

Her eyes slowly opened, and the look in them made me want to haul her to a bed and throw her down.

“Don’t look at me like that,” I said quietly, bringing up a hand to trace the curve of her face. The softest skin.

“Like what?” she said on a near whisper.

“Like you’re as into this as I am,” I said, watching my fingers moving over her skin.