Huge Deal - Lauren Layne Page 0,64
it last night when she said she trusted him. She trusted him not to hurt her. So she stayed quiet.
Several minutes later, Kennedy paid the driver, and Kate couldn’t contain her broad smile as they walked toward the entrance of Central Park, a little girl on a scooter nearly clipping their toes with a happy “Sorry” shouted over her ponytail.
“Sorry about that,” a man echoed, speed-walking after the girl, a toddler on his hip. “Rosie, slow down!”
“Hurry up, Daddy!”
Kate’s smile slipped just a little bit, the scene reminding her of long-ago weekends with her own father. Not at Central Park but at the little rinky-dink park in their neighborhood where the grass was always a little brown, the swings a little rusty, but the memories were pure gold.
Kennedy set his hand on her back, just for a moment, a casual touch that might have said this way or watch out for the dog poop. But the slight brush of his thumb along her spine and the lingering warmth told her he understood what she was feeling. It said I’m here.
“Do you do this often?” she asked as they stepped into the park. It was bustling, being a sunny weekend day, but even still, she felt the difference from the city just steps behind her and the oasis ahead of her.
“Sure, great running paths,” he said as they weaved their way down the path, sharing it with strollers, walkers, and the aforementioned runners.
“No, I mean for picnics.” They veered to the right down one of the many forks in the road Central Park had to offer.
“Ah. No. Can’t say that I’ve done it . . . probably in a couple decades.”
“Decades? So you did this when you were a kid?”
“Sure. It was actually an Easter tradition, weather permitting.”
She looked up at him. “Huh.”
His eyes were scanning the various grassy areas, probably looking for the perfect spot to settle, so when he looked back down at her, he seemed surprised she was watching him. “What?”
“I just can’t reconcile the Dawsons with a messy picnic in the grass.”
“Who said anything about messy?” he asked with a quick wink. “My mom had a whole arsenal of dedicated picnic equipment, right down to the red-checkered blanket she had handmade from some woman out in Nantucket. The picnic baskets even had a special pie carrier, perfect for our Easter picnic days.”
“A pie carrier. Wow.”
“Maybe let’s not mention this to her,” he said, patting his decidedly non-dedicated-picnic bag. “If she still has the old picnic stuff, she’ll probably try to foist it upon me.” Kennedy touched her upper arm, then nodded to their left. “Over there. There’s a spot under the tree that looks flat.”
Kate headed toward the spot he indicated. Together they spread out the navy blanket from his bag, and she happily kicked off her shoes and settled on the blanket, watching as he unpacked the rest of the bag.
“What’s in those?” she asked as he pulled out two enormous canteen-style water bottles.
“Water, rosé,” he said, pointing at one, then the other.
“Rosé, as in wine? Can you drink in Central Park?”
“I won’t tell if you won’t.” He pulled out a stack of plastic cups. “If anyone asks, it’s pink lemonade.”
“I can’t really reconcile you drinking pink anything,” Kate said as he set a container of store-bought pasta salad alongside a baguette. “Wait, what is that?”
“Travel cheese board.”
“Whaaaaat? They make those?”
“What did you eat on picnics, Henley? Cardboard?”
“Normal food. String cheese. American cheese on white bread with off-brand mayo. Fig Newtons—name-brand, obviously.”
He pulled out a package of delicate macarons from a bakery Kate knew well. Not for herself but from buying hoity-toity gifts for clients. Kennedy caught the direction of her gaze and wordlessly handed over the package.
“Isn’t this dessert?”
He gave her a come on, we’re grown-ups who can do what we want look, and with a grin, she took the package. She went for a green one, guessing it was pistachio.
“Mmmmm.” Her eyes closed, delighted to be right about the flavor.
When she opened them, Kennedy was frozen in place, giving her the same look as he had last night when she was eating the scallops. Knowing she was playing with fire, Kate couldn’t help herself from extending the cookie toward him, surprised, and yet not surprised, when after only a brief hesitation, he leaned down and nipped a bite of cookie directly from her fingers.
Their eyes locked for a second before she forced a bright smile. “Amazing, right?”
“A little sweet,” he said, chewing, as he