“On my back? I’ll give you a piggyback.”
Sophie gives a nervous laugh. “No, you won’t.”
“Get. On.” I grab her wrist, still clutching her crutch, and tug her toward me. She shuffles forward, off balance.
“I can’t. No way.”
“Just hop a little. Or I’ll throw you over my shoulder.”
She giggles. “You can’t do that.”
“Wanna bet? Are you doubting my superior strength?” I turn to face her, holding the phone so it’s not shinning in her eyes. “Is this some sort of weight issue?” I shine the light down Sophie’s body—the baggy sweatshirt with the faded happy face, the flared leggings that fit over her bandage, but hug her curves on the way down.
I would like to linger on those curves, but I don’t want to make her uncomfortable.
I hold her gaze. “It’s not an issue.Trustme. Now, jump on my back because I’m beginning to get freaked out that someone is going to accidentally lock us down here.”
“I don’t think that’s possible.” But she hands me her crutches, resting her hands on my shoulders.
I feel their chill through my sweater.
On three, Sophie gives a little jump, and I grab her legs and manage to hoist her up. It’s awkward, and more difficult than it should be, and we’re both laughing by the time she’s perched on my back.
“You don’t have to do this.”
“Unless I’m ready for my feet to freeze, I really do. And I still have a need for my feet.”
Sophie holds her crutches in one hand and my phone in the other to light our way. “Tell me if I get too heavy.”
“You aren’t. You won’t be.”
Sophie has curves, and she’s nothing like the waif-like tree saplings I usually date. She’s a real woman who eats potato chips when she’s stressed and loves a good burger.
I like that she’s a real woman.
She bites her nails when she’s distracted and is happy to take a picture without spending an hour in a makeup chair. She wears sloppy clothes and likes to keep her hair in a ponytail.
She smells of cookies and strawberries.
I like holding her like this.
I like holding her.
I like her, period.
After Mera, I dated. A lot. I went for quantity over quality, and I told myself it was better that way. I never met anyone who I felt a genuine connection with, but that was on me.
I didn’t expect to feel a connection with Sophie.
But she broke through, crawled into my heart like one of the castle cats taking up half my bed, and there was nothing I could do to stop her.
Because that was the plan. If Sophie liked me enough, she wouldn’t find a reason to charge me, or bring about some lawsuit that would cast me in a bad light. I could leave Laandia the way I found it—with the town thinking I was nothing more than a grumpy billionaire, rather than some negligent driver who doesn’t deserve to be behind the wheel.
But Sophie would never do that, even if we weren’t friends. I know that now.
I think I knew that from the beginning.
I should have never listened to my father. Because if I never tried to make her fall for me, I wouldn’t be falling for her myself.
