Page 45 of Puppy Christmas

“That we slipped down to enjoy an early-morning quickie,” he said, his voice low. “That we can’t keep our hands off each other. That I’ve decided to recover my reputation and prove to Katie Barnes and Tallulah Grey that I’ve learned a thing or two about what to do with my tongue. Who and where was your first kiss?”

They’d reached the center of the bleachers by now, the pair of them surrounded by dust and wadded-up papers and a lone basketball shoe with the laces removed. Of Helen there was no sight—or sound—but Ford wasn’t about to point that out. Not when he and Lila were wedged between the rafters, their bodies pressed so closely he could feel the in-and-out movement of her breath.

“My first kiss?” she echoed. “You want to know about thatnow?”

It was either that or stand here agonizing over every inch of Lila’s body sliding against his. He needed something to distract himself, and flirtatious banter was the only thing he was good at.

“Why not? It’s only fair. I told you all about mine.” He feigned a thoughtful pause. “I hope yours was a frog prince instead of some creep you’ve never met taking liberties while you slept. Those stories always leave me feeling unsettled. Who writes that stuff, anyway?”

“I don’t kiss frogs!”

“Then itwasthe creep you’ve never met.” He sighed. “That’s it. Tell me his name, and I’ll go slay him, dragon-style. I can’t promise I’ll be any good at it, but—”

“Would you be serious for five seconds?” Lila hissed as she glanced around. “I’m trying to see where Helen’s gone.”

It didn’t take Ford the full five seconds. He lifted a finger and pointed it straight up.

Lila froze as she took stock of the booted feet ten feet above their heads. “What’s she doing?” she asked. Her voice was barely more than a whisper.

Partially to keep his voice down and partially because he couldn’t resist the warm lull of Lila’s proximity, Ford brought his lips to her right ear before replying. “Waiting for us, I presume. I should’ve warned you before you took flight that she has the patience of a rock. She can outlast anything and anyone. When the world comes to an end, the only remains of humanity will be Twinkies, cockroaches, and Helen Griswold. It seems like a fairly good representation, if you ask me. Cockroaches I could do without, and Helen can be a bit of a trial sometimes, but I adore Twinkies.”

“Oh, please. The only thing you adore is putting me in highly uncomfortable situations.”

“You lured me down here, not the other way around,” he pointed out. “But now that you’ve managed to get me where you want me, what do you plan to do? Are you going to tell me about that frog prince after all?”

“My first kiss wasnota frog prince.”

“Hmm.” He feigned thoughtfulness. “Captain of the football team? Head of the cheerleading squad? The emo kid who kept checking out the library’s only copy ofCatcher in the Rye? No, I have it! Debate team champion, right?”

That last one felt uncomfortably accurate. Of all the hearts a young Lila Vasquez must have been able to capture, a brilliant, successful, driven one seemed like the best fit. The guy probably went on to earn six figures and drive a Ferrari, often wondering what happened to the bright, gorgeous girl who’d shared his first kiss.

There’d probably been none of that turtle-darting, either, the bastard.

“Well?” Ford prompted. The answer to this question suddenly seemed more important than he cared to admit.

“If you must know, my first kiss was an English major named Peter Darracot. He smelled like patchouli, and I couldn’t get that dratted smell out of my hair for a full week afterward.” As if to prove it, she tossed her head. Ford’s braid held, but that didn’t stop him from imagining all the delightful scents and sensations that were contained within that long, dark bounty.

“Patchouli Peter Darracot. I like the sound of that. Very tweedy. Did he read you some of his handwritten poetry first?” A thought occurred to him, and he paused. “Wait—he was an English major? Incollege?D-a-m-n. Here you are, trying to make me feel bad for hitting up the principal’s daughter, when all along, you were luring young men into borderline indecency.”

“I beg your pardon. I was of age.”

“And byof age, you mean…what? Fifteen? Sixteen? As the father of a girl, I feel like this is information I should know.”

“I mean the usual definition, obviously. Thelegaldefinition.”

The words were out before he could stop them. “You were eighteen years old before you had your first kiss? What theh-e-l-lwas wrong with the boys you went to school with?”

Lila shifted from one foot to another, her gaze fixed on a point somewhere over his left shoulder. “They didn’t much care for me, I’m afraid. Most of the kids I went to school with found me somewhat…cold.”

Well, they obviously hadn’t stood this close to her underneath the bleachers, because cold was the last thing Ford felt. Even without Lila’s body emanating heat next to his, he was overwhelmed with a burning desire to pull her into his arms. There was nothing cool about the things he wanted to do to her, either. In fact, he was starting to overheat just thinking about it.

“Were you a late bloomer?” he suggested with only a slight hitch in the back of his throat.

“No, Ford.” Her gaze snapped over to meet his once again. Although her eyes remained as meltingly delicious as ever, they held a painful reserve. It was as if a shutter had been drawn, some of her internal light dimmed. “I mean that I’ve always put people off, even when I was young. No one kissed me because no one wanted to. All the boys I went to school with wanted to be around nice girls. Sweet girls. Warm girls. Not…a lizard person.”

It was wrong to laugh, he knew. Clearly, Lila had been running with the wrong crowd, because he couldn’t think of anyone nicer or sweeter or warmer than her. The things she’d done for him and Emily in a short space of time were overwhelming in both number and variety. She’d pretended to be a princess and danced a waltz with a perfect stranger for no reason other than to please a little girl. She’d donated a service dog and her time so Emily could feel more supported every day of her life. She wore a pink sequined tank top to keep up the royal pretense, her hair in a lumpy braid she’d painstakingly walked him through until he got it right. Hell, she was even hiding under the bleachers because he’d let Helen believe they were a couple for his own selfish ends.

At this point, he would have been well served if she stormed away and asked never to see him again. It was what any rational woman would have done under the same circumstances. Yet here she was, her body mere inches from his, talking to him about lizard people.