No reply.
"I mean, I did mean it. But of course, you don’t have to spend time with me. It’s just… As you pointed out, I seem to have come to some conclusions which might not be accurate, so I thought it would be best if?—"
"Okay."
I stare at him. Did I hear him wrong? "Did you say?—"
"Ice cream," he snaps out.
"Excuse me?"
"Do you like ice cream?"
"Who doesn't? But what’s that got to do with anything?"
He flips the indicator, slows down, then comes to a stop in front of an ice cream shop at the side of the road. One that’s still open and popular, judging by the people inside.
"Ah, ice cream." Right. Again, not what I expected him to suggest. Or to pull up right away. Another way I’ve misjudged him, apparently.
When his lips twist, I realize he, too, must think the same.
He smirks. Then shoves his door open and steps out. I reach for my door handle, but he’s already rounded the car and opens it for me.
"Thanks." I step out. He shuts the door and guides me with an impersonal touch at the small of my back. Doesn’t stop the goosebumps from peppering my skin.
We reach the shop, and he pushes the door open, then follows me in. He heads for the ice cream display case.
The woman behind it, who must be in her late twenties, stops what she was doing and walks over to him. "How can I help?" She gives him a big smile. Ugh, what a ho.
He turns to me, a question in his eyes.
I have the satisfaction of seeing her face fall.
"Strawberry and mango for me, please. In a cone. With sprinkles. And also, chocolate sauce."
“Of course.” She tears her gaze off James’ face with obvious reluctance, then picks up a cone and proceeds to create my order.
She hands it over. Then turns to James and bats her eyelashes. “And what can I get you?”
A small smile plays around his lips. “A couple of scoops of your bitter chocolate ice cream. In a cup, please."
Instantly, a hot sensation squeezes my chest. Nah, I can’t be jealous because he smiled at another woman? Also, bitter chocolate? Of course, that’d be the flavor he’d go for.
"Anything else?" She makes googly eyes at him. How obvious can she get? I resist the urge to snort.
“No, I’m good.” He doesn’t seem aware of how she’s angling to get his attention.
Man has no idea he’s a lethal, walking sex-machine, laying low any woman within a mile of his overwhelming presence.
She scoops the ice cream into a cup and hands it over.
"Thank you." He takes it from her.
"No, thankyou." She holds onto the ice cream cup for a few more seconds than is strictly necessary, in my totally unbiased opinion.
When she finally let’s go, she flutters her eyelids. Jeez, is this woman for real?
She opens her mouth to ask something else, and I step in closer to James, enough to brush his arm with mine.
