Page 40 of Dare To Take

When someone jostles me from behind, I lift my head. Arabella’s arms are looped around my neck, her eyes half-closed. My gaze tracks over her face, following the path of her tongue as it licks over her lips. Reaching back, I unhook her hands and take a step away.

“You’re dangerous, Hellcat.” I turn away, and a second later her arm creeps around my waist and she leans into my side. My immediate impulse is to push her away, but I fight against it, and drape my arm across her shoulders instead. “Let’s get out of here. Christmas decorations you said, right? I know a place you might like.”

We weave through the other shoppers and back out into the cold. There’s a store off the beaten track, away from the tourists that Poppy brought me to when I was a kid. I’m not sure if it’s still there, but if I remember it right, Arabella will love the things it sells.

It takes me a few wrong turns, but eventually, I find the right street and guide her through the door. The interior looks like someone raided Santa’s grotto. Everything is Christmas-related. Toys, decorations, train sets, trees. Anything you can imagine.

Arabella gasps, eyes wide as she stares around. I let my arm drop from her shoulders and wave a hand.

“Go nuts.” I find a relatively clear space by a wall and lean against it, while she darts around the store, looking at everything.

I push my earbuds in while she’s browsing, tap play on my music, and close my eyes. ‘12 Rounds’ by Bohnes fills my ears.

I lose track of time as one song flows into another and it’s only when there’s a tap on my arm that I open my eyes. Arabella is standing in front of me, holding a small bag.

“Is that all you bought?”

“I told you. I buy one new decoration a year.”

“Seems like a long-winded way to decorate a tree.”

She rolls her eyes and punches my arm. “Are you being purposely dense? I have other decorations. I just buy a special one every year.”

“What makes it special?” I follow her out of the store.

She doesn’t answer until we’re back on the sidewalk. “I like to pick something that represents the year I’ve had.”

I flick a finger toward the bag. “So that’s a torture device, then? Should I worry?”

She stops and turns to me. “Did you just make a joke? Does Eli Travers have a sense of humor? Oh my god, is the world about to end?” She slaps a palm to her chest and smirks at me.

“Now, who’s the asshole?”

She pats my cheek. “The answer to that question will always be you.”

I can’t stop the laugh that breaks free. “You’re so fucking weird.”

***

We stop for lunch in a small cafe, at Arabella’s insistence, where she takes forever to decide what to eat. When she finally settles on grilled cheese and a hot chocolate, I double the order.

I have a moment of panic when I realize the cafe doesn’t take cards and wants cash. Logically, I know what each bill means, but putting it into practice without time and warning sends me into a spin.

I stare down at the folded bills in my hand, then up at the cash register for what feels like an hour before two fingers pluck a couple of them out of my grip and hand them to the server.

“Do you use money so little that you forgot what it means?”

I know she’s teasing, I can hear it in her voice, so I force a laugh and nod. “You caught me. I rarely use anything other than a card.” I turn and guide her over to a table. “What do you want to do next?” I stretch out my legs beneath the table and hook my ankles around hers.

She frowns at me but doesn’t pull away. “We should get gifts for your dad and Elena.”

“We don’t really—”

“You are not about to tell me you don’t buy your dad something for Christmas!”

I shrug. “Would you prefer I lie?”

“What about when your mom was alive?”

---