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it’s for security purposes, but even at one in the morning, it’s glowing.
    “When I first moved to town, I wanted to come here so badly.” I grin at him as he moves closer. “But it’s kind of intimidating to walk around this street if you can’t actually afford anything in any of these stores. Do you know what I mean?”
    He can’t even form an answer before I’m waving it away. It’s a silly thing to say to someone who absolutely shops at these stores—who grew up just down the street.
    “Oh shoot. No, I guess you don’t know what I mean. But trust me, it’s intimidating.”
    He nods and reaches out to lace his fingers with mine. I use the connection to pull him to the next window.
    “Miko and I like to come here when we wrap an event. It’s usually around this time, and we’re too wired to sleep.”
    “And you just . . . walk around?”
    I laugh at his obvious confusion.
    “Most of the time we bring snacks.”
    He shrugs helplessly.
    “OK.”
    “Come on, pal.” I use my hold on his hand to turn him back in the other direction. The whole of Rodeo Drive is laid out before us in all its perfectly manicured, architecturally beautiful glory. As a little girl who wanted to move to LA her whole life, I can’t help but feel giddy when I look at it, even after seeing it so many times. That little girl’s dreams are what make my voice nearly tremble with excitement when I tell him, “You have to admit there’s a special kind of magic to this. It’s like something out of a movie or a book or—I don’t know, your very best dream.” I’m nearly breathless as I look out over the city street.
    “You’re right.” His voice is nearly a whisper.
    I turn to look at him, happy that he understands what I’m saying, but he isn’t looking at the street or the architecture.
    He’s looking right at me. His voice comes out gruff.
    “There is a special kind of magic to this.”
    He pulls gently on my hand so we’re facing each other, and his fingers slide up to play with the end of my hair again. He just stands there watching his fingers wrap around the strands like it’s the most fascinating thing he’s ever seen. When his eyes find mine again, I stop breathing completely.
    “Something out of my very best dream,” he says just as quietly.
    But I hear him. Every single part of me hears him. My heart, the tingly spot on my neck, the tips of my fingers, my lips, the back of my knees—every single part of me hears him say that, so every single part is already heightened when he slides his hand up to cradle my face and touches his mouth to mine.
    We’ve kissed before.
    Gentle kisses, rough and urgent kisses, kisses that are intense, kisses that are playful, kisses that seem to last a minute but really steal parts of an hour. We’ve had them all. But this kiss is something more. The first brush of his lips feels like a question. The tip of my tongue against his is the answer. And as the intensity increases along with the emotion behind it, I feel the comfort of this kiss until my chest aches with new awareness of what this man is becoming to me. I slide my hands up around his neck and push up on tiptoes to get closer.
    Which is the exact moment my stomach growls loud enough to startle us both.
    Kill. Me.
    Brody is already chuckling when he pulls back to look at me. I’m eight kinds of mortified, but the joy lighting up his eyes is enough to make my embarrassment worth it.
    “Dinner time?” he asks with a grin.
    “Absolutely.” I smile back. “What kind of food sounds good?”
    His hand slides down my arm until he reaches my fingers. “I know a great pancake place.”
    I laugh at the suggestion as he pulls me towards his car.
    “Pancakes?” I tease. “Is that gonna be our thing?”
    “Well”—he smiles and opens the car door for me—“I know how you love a theme.”
    I’m still laughing when he closes it behind me.
    Part II: Brody
    Landon is still giggling when I close the door on her side