Lizzie Blake's Best Mistake (A Brush with Love, #2)(16)

She snorted and sent him the picture, secretly enjoying that he wanted it, a little reminder of the day.

“Wanna get some ice cream?” Lizzie asked after they’d left the gardens and headed toward the historic Rittenhouse neighborhood. Rake nodded, and she led him to a nearby spot.

The shop was small and crowded, and despite the copious minutes Lizzie had in line to decide on a flavor, indecisiveness gripped her so tightly by the time she stepped up to the counter, it felt like a physical punch to the gut, the buzz of bodies around her adding to the indecision.

Rake ordered immediately, getting a single scoop of vanilla ice cream on a sugar cone. Lizzie envied the calm confidence with which he ordered. She knew she’d never order something in such a seamless process. Sometimes, deciding on what to eat felt like the biggest decision of her life, the endless options overwhelming her, swarming her brain in a dysfunctional tangle of choices, until she knew she’d make the wrong decision regardless and just blurted out the next thing her eyes landed on.

“Can I try the…” Lizzie’s eyes scanned over the colorful flavor tubs at warp speed. “A sample of the lemon,” she said to the waiting server. “Wait, no, the birthday cake,” she said, right before they dipped the tiny plastic spoon into the lemon. “Sorry, actually pistachio. No, the sorbet.”

The server jerked up to standing, staring at Lizzie for a long moment. “You can try more than one,” they said at last, and the annoyance in their voice made embarrassment trickle across her nape.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’d like a sample of the brownie batter and the mint chocolate chip, please.”

But, as the server reached toward the tub, indecision spiked again. “Wait. Sorry, I’ll try…” Someone in line behind Lizzie groaned, and the server closed their eyes for a moment.

“You okay?” Rake said in her ear, the kindness in his voice making her jump out of her skin. She was mortified by her inability to do something as simple as order a flavor of ice cream.

“I’ll have a scoop of the peanut butter chocolate and … uh … the mango. In a waffle cone,” Lizzie said, naming the first two flavors she read. The server stared at her for a solid ten seconds, waiting for Lizzie to change her mind on that objectively gross combination. Lizzie didn’t even like mangoes. But when Lizzie didn’t say anything, they bent to scoop it.

“With sprinkles,” Lizzie added weakly, reasoning that a little festive decoration would help the palatability of her choice.

After paying for the treats and excessively apologizing for the fiasco, Lizzie and Rake left the shop. At the corner, Lizzie stopped next to a trash can and pushed off the scoop of mango sitting on top of her cone with her finger.

“There,” she said, licking her finger clean and pasting on a goofy grin. She couldn’t look at Rake. She knew what would be written all over his face—incredulous scrutiny at what an obvious lunatic she was. She received that look every time she went out with her family growing up.

But she also didn’t need to prove anything to this (hot) almost stranger, she reminded herself. Steeling her nerve, she shot him a quick glance. What she saw made her do a double take. He wasn’t looking at her with harsh judgment or appalled concern like she’d come to expect. His eyes traced over her softly like he found her … intriguing. Like he wanted to learn more.

Warmth flooded through her body.

They continued walking through the historical streets. Rake didn’t say much, but that was okay—Lizzie kept up a consistent enough commentary for the both of them.

Neon signs are so fucking cool. Have you ever watched a video on how they’re made? No? You should.

I love the color of that door!

Oh la la floofer-fluffer puppy! So squishy.

Wow, how nice would it be to have that rooftop garden? I’d blow someone for a view like that.

I bet that place has good food. It smells heavenly.

I really like the flowers in that coffee shop window. I think pansies are such an underrated flower.

On and on, the city a kaleidoscope of wonders as they walked.

“Look. At. This,” Lizzie said, halting in her tracks, Rake bumping into her. They’d made their way back to City Hall, the epicenter of Philadelphia’s energy. The building jutted into the sky, its marble and granite facade sparkling in the sun, while the statue of William Penn rose at its peak, looking down at the splendor of the city.

Delicious details were carved into every inch of the structure, intricate swoops lining each window and ledge as delicately as white frosting on a gingerbread house.

Lizzie stared up at it, her eyes devouring every detail and nuance while her forgotten ice cream dripped down her hands.

“Have you never been here before?” Rake asked, pulling her out of her reverie.

Her eyebrows furrowed. “Of course I’ve been here. I come here all the time. I actually work, like, three blocks away. Why?”

Rake blinked a few times, looking between her and the building before answering. “You just … You look at everything like it’s … new.” His eyes roamed across her face, like there was some hidden answer just below her skin that he was trying to decipher.

Lizzie grinned. “There’s always something new to find,” she said, turning back to the building. It was what Lizzie loved about her city. No matter how many times she revisited a spot, there was something new to spark joy in her brain. Something beautiful and delicious to devour.