More Than Anything (Broken Pieces #1)(48)

“The guy over there, with the beard? Wearing the orange beanie and the pride scarf?” he said, pointing with his jaw, and Tina glanced over at a slight young man with overlong hair and full beard.

“What about him?”

“He’s seriously talented. He’s carving a tiny version of Michelangelo’s David. It’s pretty good. He should win.”

“I don’t know, Harris,” Tina mused. “The flower child with the daisy-chain crown and the bell-bottoms over there is doing a pretty great job of re-creating SpongeBob CheesePants. I think she has a real shot.”

“No way!”

“I mean, at least he’s actually yellow. David is going to look jaundiced!”

“Care to place a friendly wager on that?” he asked without thinking, and she raised her eyebrows pointedly.

“Seriously, Harris? A bet?” Clearly comprehending how insensitive that suggestion must have seemed, he flushed and had the grace to look shamefaced. Tina allowed him to dangle uncomfortably for another long moment before letting him off the hook with a chuckle. “Ten bucks says SpongeBob takes it!”

“You’re on!” he said with a relieved smile, and they shook on it.

“This might take a while. Should we get some drinks and come back later?”

“Yeah, there’s a lot more to see.”

“Not really,” she said with a laugh. “We’ve been to the World of Cheese tent”—which had been filled with dozens of stalls representing different countries and showcasing cheeses from different regions within said countries. Harris had spent an inordinate amount of time sampling his way through France. “And you participated in the cheese wheel–rolling competition.”

“That beefy asshole with the arms the size of my thighs cheated,” he grumbled. “He pushed me! I was winning.”

“Harris,” she said patiently, for what felt like the thousandth time. “I was watching. You tripped.”

He sported a now-muddied pair of jeans and a bruised ego because of that little stumble. And he had finished dead last.

“I felt his hand on my back,” he said, looking outraged.

“Yes, you did, when he stopped to help you up. It was pretty impressive that he still went on to win after that.”

“I’m not discussing this any further,” he said decisively.

“Oh God, I hope not,” she replied fervently. The cheese-roll race had been pretty tame compared to one she had seen on YouTube a few years ago. No steep hills and no spectacular tumbles. Harris had been one of the few participants to actually fall down the gentle incline. And despite his grumbling about it now, he’d been a pretty good sport about the whole thing. He had been laughing like a kid after that tumble, despite the muddy conditions after the rain.

“Anyway, I wanted to try the camembert ice cream,” he said, and she made a gagging face.

“I don’t care what you say—cheese ice cream sounds disgusting, and I refuse to try it.”

“You can watch me try it,” he said generously, and she slanted him an unimpressed side-glance. She followed him to the stall, which had an improbably long queue. Who knew so many people were into cheese ice cream?

Yuck.

He hooked a casual arm around her shoulders as they made painstakingly slow progress down the line. Tina nearly shrugged out of his hold until she realized that he had done it unthinkingly, and if she moved away from him, she’d be making a big deal out of something he didn’t seem to consider particularly significant.

He made wry observations about the people around them directly into her ear, causing her to laugh often. She was enjoying his company. She had never—not even when they were kids—truly enjoyed his company. As a girl, she had been too nervous around him, and after his twentieth birthday, she had spent most of her adulthood avoiding this very situation. But she now found that being the sole focus of his overwhelmingly charming personality was a heady experience. And the thrill of it was giddying. She felt special and interesting and like the most beautiful woman in the world.

And part of her hated it. Because it was a lie.

Still, she shoved aside her reservations and told herself to enjoy this for what it was. An ephemeral moment in their tumultuous relationship. Likely never to be repeated.

So, she allowed the cheeky, off-color comments, the sweet smiles, and the constant touching. So much touching. His elbow was crooked around her neck, and his hand dangled down to just above her breasts. He caressed her face a lot, played with her hair, and she was 100 percent certain his lips had brushed against her temple on several occasions.

The butterflies were going crazy, and she was trying very hard to get them under control, but they refused to be tamed. She had no option but to let them soar, and she relaxed against Harris’s side, sliding a timorous arm around his waist.

When they finally got to the ice-cream stand, Harris gleefully ordered his camembert ice cream in a waffle cone. Tina watched him queasily as he consumed his treat with relish while they strolled from stand to stand.

“This is quite good, Bean. You sure you don’t want a lick?” He ran his tongue down the side of the creamy-looking treat, trying to tempt her . . . but the only thing Tina found herself tempted by was the tip of his tongue as it delicately and expertly created grooves in the soft ice cream.

She resisted the urge to fan herself, suddenly feeling incredibly hot and flushed on this cold gray day.