“Scared to lose,” I taunted.
Scowling, he took the rings, rolled the first once between his fingers, assessed the distance like it was a kill shot and then let them fly in quick succession. They landed cleanly, the bottles wobbling for a second before staying in place. Cheers erupted around us. I clapped, ridiculous and delighted.
He looked startled for half a second. Then scoffed. “Rigged.”
“Sure. You intimidated the bottles.” That got me a smile as the attendant asked him to choose a prize.
“What do want?” he asked me.
“You choose.” He thought for a moment then asked for the absurdly large gorilla. Flabbergasted, I laughed, trying to get my arms around the teddy. “Really?”
He shrugged, walking. “In some African cultures, gorillas are regarded as symbols of strength, courage and protection.”
I gaped, following him. “How do you know that?”
“Been there a few times. Now you have a bodyguard when I’m not around.”
I laughed so hard, I had to stop walking. Remo looked at me, one brow cocked. “You actually cracked a joke,” I finally managed when my giggles died down.
He smiled and my God did it transform his entire demeanor, telling me that beneath the tough exterior, lurked a man any woman would die to love. And I was glad I had that secret honor right now.
“Glad you approve,” he scoffed, grabbed my waist and resumed walking.
We wandered the grounds. Rode the Ferris wheel where Remo decided his lap was more comfortable for me and my lips much more interesting than the view. Ate things we shouldn’t. At first, I gave him something sweet and sticky to try. He complained once but didn’t stop eating after that.
We were on our way out when I dragged him to a stall selling trinkets. Cheap metal, leather cords, small things meant to be forgotten. He took a call while I inspected them.
My fingers pause on a leather band. For some reason it felt right. Simple. Dark leather. A small silver clasp etched with a subtle knot. Nothing romantic or ornate.
“This is you.” I picked it up.
Remo cut the call and lifted a brow. “That?”
“It’s not jewelry. It’s practical.”
He laughed under his breath. “You’re buying me a leash?”
I stepped closer, lowering my voice so only he heard. “I’m buying you something that says I trust you to walk beside me.”
That stilled him.
Closing one of his arms around the gorilla, I grabbed the other and fastened the band around his wrist before he could stop me. My fingers brushed his pulse. It was steady. Strong.
He studied the bracelet for a moment before his gaze met mine. “You know I don’t do sentimental.”
“I know and it’s not.”
We stood there for a beat, the noise of the carnival rushing around us. Remo opened his mouth, probably to dismiss it but I spoke before he could.
“When I was younger,” I said quietly, taking the gorilla from him and holding it tight against my chest. “There was a boy. He walked me home every day even though I didn’t know him. He didn’t talk much. Shielded me from horror stories one time, hit a boy who pulled my hair another and sometimes shared his treats with me. He was always just there between me and the world.”
Remo’s gaze sharpened, unreadable. “Where’s he now?”
I dropped my gaze to the ground, swallowing. “He grew up, moved on, and took over family responsibilities that pulled him away from me. All I have now is this lingering memory of my savior, one who somehow taught me to be strong. I kept walking alone after that, learning to be my own shield.” I met Remo’s gaze. “You remind me of him, not because you’re gentle or safe but because you’re there when it matters, you stand where the danger is yet somehow shield me from it. Maybe one day you'll trust me enough to show me your world.”
For a long minute, he didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. Then his thumb brushed the band, once like he was testing whether it was real. “You don’t know what you’re asking for, little fox.”
I smiled, slow and sure. “I think I do.”
