“Want to ice skate with me?” He throws an offering hand out to the lake, and I raise my brows over my sunglasses. “Are you kidding?” That damn grin taunts me again. “Uh, negatory.” My eyes sweep over the lake. “Who knows how thin or thick that ice is?” His lips smack in protest. “Where’s your sense of whimsy, Huck?” “My sense of self-preservation outweighs it,” I choke out, and I feel him freeze next to me. The look on his face clearly indicates he’s been taken off guard, but he recovers quickly, and I stare at him perplexed until the words I said dawn on me. Sense of self-preservation. What,
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