“You’re not walking in the freezing rain,” he demands, taking the tray from me. “I’m not as delicate as you think I am,” I say with a huff. “It’s not about you being delicate.” He grins. “It’s about preventing any discomfort on your part whatsoever. For my own pleasure and peace of mind.” “That’s a fool’s task,” I grumble. “Discomfort is part of life.” “Then a fool I shall be.” He leans down and gives me a quick kiss on the cheek before snatching the boat of spiced syrup from my hands.
