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She shot me an incredulous look. “Voice control for the blinds? Is everyone in the US so spoiled that they don’t even have to pull a cord to raise them?”
Lucian laughed in my ear as Isabella gave up on the blinds, gathered the sheet around her legs, and darted toward the bedroom door.
I lowered my voice. “We may have made a tactical error putting those two next door to each other.”
“You’re only figuring that out now?”
I swung my legs out of bed and grabbed my joggers. “Fair warning—I told Isabella about your playroom.”
“What did you tell her?”
“That she should ask Scarlett.”
“You want me to tell her not to say anything?”
“No. Let Scarlett tell her. Once Mouse knows what’s in yours, she might decide I need one too.”
“It came with the penthouse. Although I’m not going to pretend Scarlett and I haven’t made good use of it.”
“That was more information than I needed before coffee.”
Lucian laughed, and I ended the call. I jerked on a pair of joggers and went after Mouse.
By the time I reached the living room, she had gone perfectly still in front of the windows, one hand pressed to the glass.
“The snow always makes the city look clean. It’s about the only part of winter I like,” I said, crossing the room to her.
“It’s beyond anything I could’ve imagined.” She spun toward me. “Lachlan, look at—”
The sheet tangled around her ankles, and she pitched forward.
I crossed the last few feet fast enough to catch her around the waist before she hit the floor.
“I promised I’d always catch you, Mouse, but if you face-plant when I’m out of reach, there’s only so much I can do.”
She laughed and twisted back toward the glass.
The storm had buried Manhattan overnight. Snow covered the terrace, rooftops, streets, and the waterfront along the Hudson. The cars below were half buried, while the buildings across the river rose from a white landscape that hadn’t existed when we went to bed.
“I knew it was snowing last night, but I didn’t know the whole world would look different by morning. It’s just so beautiful.”
Watching her light up over something as ordinary as snow made me want to show her every damn thing she’d never had the chance to see.
Then more pounding came from the entry.
“Wake up, you sleepyheads!” Scarlett shouted through the door. “We have to go to the park.”
I left Isabella staring at the city and opened the door.
Scarlett stood there already dressed for the cold, one hand still raised as though she intended to start pounding again.
“Mornin’, Scar. Thanks for the weather update.”
“You’re welcome. What’s wrong with your phone? Aren’t you always supposed to answer that thing?”
“Not always. Sometimes a man has other priorities. You, of all people, should understand that.”
Scarlett gave my bare chest a pointed look, then swept past me without waiting for an invitation, and went straight to Isabella.
