“Don’t throw me in.” Lexi giggled and shrieked as I pretended to hold her over the pool.
“No? The self-proclaimed queen of positive thinking doesn’t want to try something new, huh?”
“Nope.”
Laughing, I swung her back over the wood deck.
She fit so perfectly in my arms as I carried her back to the nest of blankets on the oversized wood lounge chair. I tucked her back into the fuzzy throws then lay down next to her.
Lexi didn’t move away.
I cupped her face, tracing my fingertips over the freckles. I really wanted to kiss her, wanted to see if she tasted like the orange still, like sunshine that I even, after all these years, couldn’t get enough of. But I wasn’t sure if I should.
“I can’t lose you,” I murmured.
“Don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere. I really need this job,” she said, sounding slightly breathless and more than a little squeaky.
29
LEXI
The soundtrack toMoanablared from my phone, thankfully giving me a chance to get myself under control before I went full squeaky mouse all over Grayson.
“I have to check the soup.” I threw off the blankets. “You like grilled cheese? Of course you like grilled cheese. Who doesn’t like grilled cheese?” I said, scuttling out from under the blankets and practically sprinting inside the penthouse.
It was warmer than the outdoors but not as warm as being under the blankets with Grayson.
Had he been hitting on me? My experience with romance began and ended with Disney movies.
Sure, there was that awkward almost-encounter with one of the Chip ‘n’ Dale cast members when I was working my college summer job at Disney World. No, I wasn’t Ariel, unfortunately. I just sold those giant turkey legs. But Grayson was not wearing a chipmunk costume, and I was pretty sure that I couldn’t just manhandle him like a giant turkey leg either.
It was probably my imagination, I told myself. I’d had an overactive imagination as a child. I believed in Santa Clauswayyy too long, not to mention the Tooth Fairy. I loved fairy tales, especially any retelling of the classics likeCinderellaorSleeping Beauty.
Grayson was no Prince Charming.
But what if he were? Maybe I was Belle taming the Beast through the power of kindness?
As I stirred the cooked-down tomatoes and chopped some herbs to finish the soup, I sang to myself.
What did I love to do most besides read, bake, and make someone’s day a little better?
Sing.
New Yorkers frowned on singing. I’d tried singing in my building, in the park, and in the alley where I got yodeled at by stray cats.
But here in my boss’s penthouse? I could sing my Disney adult heart out.
Could I sing? Let’s just say my parents think I’m great.
I was singing “Once Upon a Dream,” twirling around Grayson’s giant kitchen and pretending all my animal friends were helping me finish the soup and grilled cheese.
I took a deep breath to launch into the part where the prince comes in then gasped as Grayson sang the verse from the doorway of the terrace.
“Oh my gosh,” I breathed. “You’re, like, really good. You should be on Broadway. You have a lovely voice.”
“Why would I be on Broadway?” Grayson scoffed. “I came to see if I could help with anything.”
“You can teach me to sing like that.”
