His eyes widened and he stopped walking. “I beg your pardon?”
Someone crashed into him, making Justin stumble forward. She grabbed his arm to help him right himself, but ended up being dragged with him. He managed to catch both himself and her without either of them hitting the ground, but she ended up in his arms. Again.
“Move the hell out of the sidewalk, dumbass,” the man snarled, shoving past them. The rest of the crowd surrounding them followed his path. New Yorkers were good at avoiding obstruction, but they were also excellent at running over obstructions—so they better move.
Justin swung her out of the way of a homeless guy pushing his cart. He held her close to his chest, his arms holding her close. She clung to him, unable to believe how vicious people were being tonight. “We better move before the Americans take down yet another Brit on the fourth.”
Justin set her down on her feet, his hands on her hips. Hers rested on his shoulders. His hard, muscular shoulders. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to bring you down with me.”
“First the puddle. Now this.” She let go of his shoulders and grabbed his hand. “I better keep you close to me before you kill us both. Come on.”
“Lead the way.” He grinned and tightened his fingers on hers. “But back on topic … how did you know I’m a singer?”
“I have a bit of experience with musicians.” Lexi grabbed his arm and made him walk before they got trampled to death. “You hope to be on stage one day, don’t you?”
“Experience, eh?” He didn’t answer at first. Instead, he eyed her and moved her out of the way of a huge guy barreling toward them. “It’s a guy, isn’t it? Tell me about him.”
“There’s nothing to tell.” She avoided his eyes. “I dated a guy in a band once. He was a jerk to the nth degree, and I never want to see him again … but he talked like you. Perfect breath spans. Perfect rhythm.”
She stopped at the intersection to wait for their turn. A man came up in front of them and yelled something about designer purses for ten bucks, and she shook her head at him.
“You’re very observant.”
“Not really. I just recognize it. It’s almost like you can’t shut it off or something. My ex was the same way—may he rot in hell.”
Something made his eyes sparkle. “I’m beginning to think your disinterest in professional actors and musicians runs a bit deeper. Maybe more along the lines of hatred.”
“Maybe.” She blew out a breath. “Fine. Yes. I’m sure there are nice ones out there, but I tend to be a little skeptical until proven wrong. But you didn’t answer my question. Do you hope to make it on stage one day?”
He hesitated, giving her a look that was hard to read. He didn’t seem to know what to say in response. Odd. A woman held her hand out and begged him for spare change. He pulled out a five and placed it in her hand. “It’s always been my dream to be on stage. Ever since I was a young boy, fresh out of nappies.”
Nappies. God, she loved his odd little phrases and sayings—even if it made him harder to understand. The light switched, and the massive crowd crossed the street. She pulled him alongside her, not letting go. She didn’t trust him not to be killed on the sidewalk. “Are you any good?”
“I’d hope so,” he answered dryly. He ran his thumb over her knuckles. It did weird things to her insides, that simple touch. “What do you do?”
She smiled and looked down at the sidewalk. Her favorite Sabrett’s vendor waved at her, and she waved back. “I’m a stock broker. Pretty tedious, I know. But that’s me. Predictable and boring.”
“I don’t think you’re boring.” He nudged her with his elbow, shooting her a grin. God, he was hot. Did he realize what that grin did to her insides? Of course he did. He was probably a player. And she’d better remember it. “As a matter of fact, I find you quite interesting.”
“You don’t know me very well, then.” She grinned. “Or you’re just desperate for a friend.”
“Perhaps a little of both?”
She chuckled. “Maybe.”
He did that thing where he ran his thumb over her skin again. “Does your family live here in the city?”
“My sister lives in Jersey.”
“Jersey?” He shuddered and twisted his face up. “And you still speak to her? Preposterous.”
She laughed. “Are you sure you’re not a New Yorker?”
“I’m a fast learner. Besides, even a Brit,” he made air quotes with his free hand, “has good sense in these matters.”
“I see that.” She tugged him closer, her mouth aching from the big smile on her face. When was the last time she’d laughed so freely? With Hugh. The thought sobered her, and guilt swept over her without pity. She shouldn’t be laughing with another guy. She shouldn’t forget his memory, and what he’d been to her, for even a second.
Especially today.
She wondered what Hugh would think of this. Of Justin. He’d told her that if something happened to him, she should forget about him and move on. But how was she supposed to do that? To just forget? To move on? She had never even considered it. Until just now. Until Justin.
It wasn’t right. She shouldn’t be feeling this way.
“All right?” Justin gave her an odd look, and his gaze fell to her no longer smiling mouth. “A penny for your thoughts.”
She forced a smile. “I only accept quarters. Sorry.”
“Hmm.” He rummaged in his pocket and pulled out a dollar bill. “I have a dollar. May I pay up in advance for the evening?”
“I’ll take the dollar.” She snatched the money out of his hand. “But you aren’t getting my thoughts out of the deal.”
“Bollocks.” He ran a hand over his jaw, hiding a grin behind his hand. “Americans are tougher than I thought.”
“You have no idea.” She chuckled. “How long have you been here?”
“A little over three months.”
She nudged him in the ribs with her elbow. “That’s long enough to know how we roll.”
He stared at her, as if he were trying to figure her out—and couldn’t quite fit the pieces together. Good. She didn’t want to be an open book. Not tonight. “So. Back to your sister. She’s in Jersey. Married?”
“Yeah.” Lexi checked the time. It was early enough that her favorite burger joint—which also had a bar—wouldn’t be too crowded. “And she conned me into going to see a musical tomorrow. Les Miserables.”