Chapter 7

Skye turnedin her seat and leaned over. "Do you have the Snowcaps?"

He lifted the box and gave it a shake. "Yep. Are you ready? We should do it now before the lights go down."

"I'm ready." She grabbed the bucket of popcorn and presented it to him. "Be careful."

He shot her a hurt look. "I'm a master at this."

Skye tamped down a giggle and watched him sprinkle the chocolate covered nonpareils throughout the popcorn until they were evenly distributed. He shot her a proud look and she patted his shoulder. "Sorry I doubted you. Two more minutes. I'm so excited—are you sure you won't be bored?"

He gave a snort. "I got the best snack in history, the most beautiful woman by my side, and the coolest holiday ballet on stage. I'm good."

"I can't believe you like chocolate in your popcorn, too. Everyone always thinks I'm weird."

"They're weird for missing out on sweet salty perfection."

The lights dimmed and the orchestra began to play, the first haunting strains of Tchaikovsky filling the theater. She snuggled close until they were shoulder to shoulder, and the curtain slowly rose. A happy sigh escaped her. Somewhere, deep inside, she noted she was experiencing a perfect moment. And then she didn't have another thought while she was swept away into the classic beauty of The Nutcracker.

The time flew by and when the last note echoed in the air, she was already rising to her feet to wildly clap. Tears filled her eyes. There was something special about the performance, and Skye had an idea it was the man sitting next to her. She'd dragged Liz here every year like clockwork—kicking and screaming—and never reached this type of nirvana.

One week in and she was halfway in love with Hunter.

She didn't know what she was going to do.

Swiping at her eyes, she turned to him with a smile. His tender expression as he handed her a napkin touched her. "Sorry, I bet you think I'm a real crybaby," she teased.

Instead of smiling, his face was serious. "No. I think you're a woman who loves without reserve. And that is never anything to apologize for."

They stared at one another as the crowd surged toward the exits. "You say these amazing things, and I can't believe you're real. Or, at least, that you're single."

"I feel the same about you," he said. He grabbed the trash with one hand, and hers with the other. "Let's head out."

They left the Westchester Ballet Center and walked to the car. The night was still and cold. The blue-black sky held a mass of twinkling stars that seemed to hang right above them like studs in velvet. "What was your favorite part?" she asked, squeezing his gloved hand.

He tucked her in tighter to his side to keep her warm. "Definitely when the giant rat pops out. Scared the hell out of me when I was young."

"Did your parents used to take you to many performances?"

"Yeah, both mom and dad are big into theater. The Nutcracker is one of my favorites, but I might have put up a fuss at Swan Lake. I fall asleep."

She laughed. "Maybe it's the holidays that make it special. I think it's great you were introduced at such a young age. I watched local versions for years but when I was in Manhattan, I got to see a performance at Lincoln Center." A sigh escaped at the memory. Women in long evening dresses, strolling around the magnificent fountain at the center of the square. Drinking overly expensive champagne during intermission. The giant theater and the whirling, graceful prima ballerina dancing her way across the stage. "It was really special."

He nodded, and finally got to the car. "That's one thing about the city I love. There's no end to what you can experience."

"True. But I bet you've never seen a Christmas pageant like ours."

He flashed a grin that showed off perfect white teeth, and settled her in the seat. "You're right." He shut the door, went to his side, and started the car. "Gotta wait for the car to warm up before I put on the heat."

She shivered. "I know but I'm freezing!"

He turned and reached for her, his voice a low sexy growl. "Then I better do something to distract you." His mouth was shockingly warm and soft, and she moaned, tilting her head back to accept the slow thrust of his tongue. Melting into the seat, they kissed hungrily for endless, aching moments, until her body was on fire, and the windows fogged and she needed to cool off.

He eased his mouth away. Those tiger eyes burned into hers with pure need. "I want you, Skye. I dream about you every night. It's never been like this before."

"Me either." She stroked back his hair, then caressed his cheek. "But it also freaks me out. The more time we spend together, the more I want to slow things down. Does that make any sense?"

He gave a half laugh. "Yes, even though it makes things harder for me." He winced at the double innuendo, and then she pressed her forehead against his, laughing too. "Oops. Can't believe I said that."

She hesitated, not wanting to dive into a serious relationship talk with a man she'd just met a week ago. "I just need some more time to be comfortable."

"I get it. I said that first night, I want you to trust me first. Because when you finally come to my bed, I want no barriers between us."

His softly spoken vow gave her goose-bumps. With one last kiss pressed to her lips, he drew back and buckled his seat belt. "Now, I think we need to grab something to eat before heading home. Any suggestions?"

She picked up her iPhone, checking on the local places in the area. "There's a few things close and open at this hour. The Pasta King is about fifteen minutes away if you're craving pasta."

She noticed his entire body stiffen. Frowning, she studied his profile, which seemed to be carved out in stone. His voice seemed a bit high pitched when he answered, but Skye figured it had to do with his physical discomfort from their make out session. "Umm, I don't know. Do you like that restaurant?"

She shrugged. "Not really. Olive Garden is much better. But there's Mexican right down the road that's highly rated."

His head spun around faster than the demon in the Exorcist. "What did you say?"

"We can do Mexican."

"No, about The Pasta King. You think Olive Garden is better? Why?"

She blinked. His expression puzzled her, a mask of intensity and disbelief. "Sorry, didn't know you were a fan. I just think the atmosphere can give off a warmer vibe. More comfy booths rather than those stuffy table and chairs crowded around like it's a French café. Oh, and the bread and salad dressing are awful."

"Awful?"

"Yep, the bread is too hard and crusty and the dressing is on the sweet side."

"I had no idea," he muttered under his breath. "Anything else?"

"Yeah, the desserts. Totally lame. If I'm going to eat pasta, give me something decadent and traditional. Where's the Tartufo? The Tiramisu? They offer cannoli's and butter cookies. Definitely not taking advantage of the sweet tooth crowd, right? I mean, you're a chocolate lover. How can they have no chocolate?"

"Right."

"So, Mexican okay?"

"Yeah, great."

"Turn right out of the lot. I'll direct you."

He drove in silence and seemed wrapped up in his thoughts. When they pulled into the small cantina, there was still a lot of people in the lot and spilling from the door. "Looks popular. Want to try it?"

More silence.

"Hunter? You okay?"

Slowly, he turned to face her. "You really don't like The Pasta King at all, do you?"

Skye sighed, and patted his shoulder. "No, but it doesn't matter. We can go anytime you want—I can find something on the menu that's good. I don't really get to eat there much anyway, because they're not local. Can we go now? I'm craving a taco."

And that's when he started laughing. Long and loud and deep, bowing his head as his shoulders shook uncontrollably. She just watched him, puzzled by his behavior, enjoying his mirth, and then he raised his head, golden eyes wet with humorous tears, and said the words.

"I think I'm falling in love with you, Skye Summers."

Her jaw dropped.

"But right now, I just want to eat some tacos and pretend tomorrow doesn't exist. Is that okay with you?"

Her heart beat like crazy and her breath stopped in her lungs, and Skye smiled. "Yeah, that's perfectly okay with me."

They walked inside.