Her lips twisted into a cute smile.“Butsometimes I miss some of my old hobbies.”
My heart kicked up a bit at the possibility that maybe this cruise ship wasn’t exactly fulfilling her. Maybe there was some kind of gap I’d be able to fill. “Like what?”
She took her time licking her ice cream as she thought. “Gardening.” She gave me a knowing look. “And sometimes when we hike, I see girls with dogs…”
“Yeah? You want one?” I asked, sounding way too eager. I cleared my throat, internally yelling at myself to calm it down.
“Maybe one day, when I’m old and gray.” She wagged her eyebrows.
“I’d like to see that.” I gave her a wink.
“No, you wouldn’t.” She tried to hip-check me, but it landed more on my thigh, making me laugh.
“Yeah, you’ll be a prettiest old lady, Al,” I said, licking the side of my ice cream cone.
“Oh, shut up,” she said, a little blush coloring her cheeks. She stopped walking to point to my face. “You got a little.”
“Huh?”
She smoothed her delicate hand up to my lips. My whole body went taunt with tension, waiting, hoping. Her brown eyes flashed up to mine, and I was too locked in, too absolutely mesmerized by her, to notice the teen guys recklessly running up the deck behind her. One of them pushed past her, making her lose her balance.
I quickly caught her with my right arm and my shoulder screamed out in protest.
“Hey, watch it,” I gritted out at the teens who were now too far to even hear me.
She chuckled awkwardly and patted my chest as she righted herself. “Not their fault I’m clumsy.”
“Their fault they ruined the moment,” I grumbled distractedly.
She laughed loudly, then covered her mouth when I looked at her. “Aww, we were having a moment?”
“Brat.” Struggling to stop a grin, I shook my head, which just made her giggle more. “So, what else?” I asked, willing my body to calm down.
She squinted at her ice cream in thought. “Maybe cooking. I forgot how to even use a pan. I don’t know what I’d do on my own. I’ve basically lived with a cafeteria my entire adult life. I might starve without one,” she joked.
“I’m a pretty good cook,” I offered up.
Her eyebrows popped up. “Yeah?”
I gave a little self-indulgent nod.
“Oh my God.” She pointed her ice cream at me accusingly. “Jameson Patrick McQuaid, you’re a meal prepper, aren’t you?”
I started laughing, because that was very much true.
“Wow, what a sell out.” She shook her head ruefully.
“Hey, it’s good for me. How else am I going to hit all the calories my trainer wants me to eat?”
“Yeah, yeah, trainers shmainers.” She rolled her eyes.
“Ah, I forgot who I was talking to Miss Don’t YouDareTell Me What To Do.” I fixed her with a look.
She snorted a laugh. “Yeah, I was a bit of a brat to the trainers, wasn’t I?”
“Eh, you just wanted to get back on the ice, even when your body didn’t want you to.”
She tsked. “Wow, you didn’t even try to deny it.”
