Killian steered her away from the busy boulevard and into a quiet side street where a small, artisan ice cream parlor sat tucked behind a row of blooming flower boxes. The air inside was sweet and cool, a welcome contrast to the heavy conversation they’d just had.
He didn't look at the menu. He just looked at her, his hand resting firmly on the small of her back. "What’s your favorite flavor? No thinking about calories or what’s 'appropriate' for a Parisian afternoon. Just tell me what you love."
After she told him, he ordered three massive scoops in a white porcelain bowl, grabbing two spoons and leading her across the street to a lush, hidden park. The grass was vibrant green and perfectly manicured. Killian didn't care about his charcoal overcoat; he sat right down on the lawn and pul
