4. Hugo

4

HUGO

I watch Zoey put the piece of steak into her mouth. She slides it delicately off the fork with her teeth and chews slowly. Her eyes close, and she nods appreciatively.

“You’re right.” Her eyes flick open. “This is the best steak I’ve had in a long time.”

She takes another forkful, and I watch her pink lips close around the meat. There’s something so seductive about watching her eat. I know that’s not what she’s trying to do. Hell, she must be the first woman I’ve met who isn’t trying to seduce me, and that makes her all the more intriguing.

I’ve been trying to flirt with her ever since I met her, but she gives the appearance of being immune to my charms. It’s only a rising pinkness in her neck that gives her away and gives me hope that she might be interested.

At first I was stalling on going back to the office because I wanted to annoy my dad. Now, it’s because I want to spend more time with Zoey.

“Have you come back to take over Walker Furniture?” she asks between mouthfuls.

My stomach clenches, and I feel a frown creasing my brow. “Is that what my dad told you?”

She shrugs. “It’s what everyone knows is going to happen eventually.”

Ever since I was a kid, I’ve been primed to take over the family business. I know I should feel grateful, but every time I think about it, all I feel is dread.

Zoey is looking at me expectantly, but I’m not ready to talk about this. Instead I wave down the waitress.

“Are you still doing the key lime pie?”

She nods. “It’s our most popular dessert.”

“Two please.”

Zoey’s eyes go wide as she chews her steak.

“You do like key lime pie, right?”

She nods. “Mmmhmmm”

“Good, cause this is the best you’ll ever taste. When I was in Mexico, I used to dream about this stuff.”

We spend the rest of the lunch talking about our favorite foods.

By the time we finish she’s more relaxed, and I know for sure I want to spend the rest of the day with her.

The cold air hits me as soon as we walk out of the steak house.

“It’s snowing!” exclaims Zoey excitedly.

She pulls on a knitted hat and lifts her face up to catch the snowflakes. She looks beautiful in the pale afternoon light, her face lifted to the sky and a broad grin spread across it. I want to make her keep smiling like that.

“Do they still have the ice skating rink in the park?” I ask.

“Yup, every year.”

“Should we go?”

She tilts her head back down to look at me, the serious expression back on her face. “You know we have to get back.”

She pulls her phone out of her pocket, and I grab it off her.

“Hey, give that back.” She makes a grab for the phone, and I hold it up high out of her reach.

“Hugo, give me my phone.”

“Why, what do you need it for?”

She jumps for it, but I’m taller than her and hold it just out of her reach.

“I have to check if your dad, my boss,” this is said pointedly, “needs anything.”

“Tell him you’re babysitting me.” I’m laughing, enjoying teasing her. She’s trying to be stern, but I can tell by the way she’s smiling that she’s enjoying it too.

“You’re a grown man. You hardly need babysitting.” She makes a lunge for the phone, and I grab her around the waist.

“Oh, but I do.” I pull her toward me. Her face is inches from mine. “Otherwise I’ll get in all sorts of trouble.”

She’s breathing heavily, her eyes wide and startled, but she doesn’t try to get away. I can smell her perfume and fruity lip gloss. My eyes travel to her full lips inches away, so plump and kissable.

Ding, ding, ding.

“Chestnuts! Get your hot roasted chestnuts!”

A chestnut seller bursts around the corner, nearly ramming into us with his cart.

I release my hold on her and she jumps away from me, smoothing down her coat.

I hand her the phone and she busies herself with checking messages, staring intently at the screen. There’s a pinkness to her cheeks, and I don’t know if it’s a blush or from the cold.

I take out my own phone and send a quick message. By the time I’m done, she’s tucking her phone back into her pocket.

“So, ice skating?” I ask casually.

She rolls her eyes at me. “I told you I have to get back.”

“No, you don’t.” She arches one eyebrow, and I go on. “I just messaged Dad and told him you’re assisting me, and we’d see him at the party.”

Her eyes go wide. “Assisting you? Assisting you with what?”

“Assisting me with having fun.” I grab her hand. “Come on, we’re going ice-skating.”

The municipal park in town has a winter wonderland set up with fairground rides, Santa’s house, and food and drink stalls. It’s been three years since I was last in Maple Springs and I take my time strolling through the market. I stop at a stall that’s selling skeleton Christmas decorations and buy some of the grumpy looking stall owner.

We weave through the crowds of rosy-cheeked children and stressed out looking parents and head for the ice skating rink.

It turns out Zoey is an excellent ice skater. She glides around the rink making it look easy. I can hardly keep up with her. She’s resigned herself to spending the day with me and seems more relaxed.

Afterward we get hot chocolates with cream and sprinkles on top. We cup them in our hands and sip them slowly as we watch the other skaters.

“Where’d you learn to skate?” I ask.

“I used to come here every year as a kid. Mom would drop me and my brother off while she did her Christmas shopping. Then when I was old enough I got a job here.”

“You worked at the skating rink?”

“Yeah. When I was sixteen. After school and weekends every year around Christmas. I used to get out on the ice whenever I could on my breaks and after it closed. It was good fun; it was a good bunch of people.”

Her eyes go distant, and a smile plays on her lips as she remembers. I imagine Zoey as a sixteen-year-old handing out ice skates and laughing with her young colleagues. A shot of jealousy runs through me, thinking about her fresh-faced and chatting with sixteen-year-old boys.

I clench my fists even though I know it’s ridiculous. I have no claim on this woman, and certainly not on her sixteen-year-old self.

I push off from the barrier where we’re leaning, watching the skaters. “You want to see where I used to hang out when I was sixteen?”

She raises her eyebrows at me. “Let me guess. The polo club?”

“Ha ha. If dad had his way, yeah, that’s probably where I would have gone. But I’ve always been the black sheep of the family.”

“Oh really?” She pulls her phone out of her pocket. “Because this is the photo your father has on his desk that I used to find you in the airport, and you look like you fit right in to me.”

She holds up the photo of me from graduation. Both my parents are in it, taken just before they separated. My hair’s short and trim, and my perfect white teeth show a wide smile. I laugh.

“Yeah, I can see how you’d think that. I tidied myself up to please my parents. That day was about them more than me.”

She looks at me long and hard. “You really do care what your dad thinks, don’t you?”

I shrug. “I respect him. I’m not sure it goes both ways.” My stomach clenches again thinking about Dad. I’m not ready to open up to Zoey about him.

“Come on.” I grab her hand. “Let me show you where I hung out when my parents thought I was at chess club.”