Lucas arched an eyebrow and burst into laughter.
Beauty rarely saw him make such exaggerated expressions.
She had always assumed he was either poker-faced or had undergone bad plastic surgery—that any smile would make his eyes slant, nose twist, and face contort.
Who knew this stern, unsmiling man could radiate such warmth when he laughed?
It was like a ray of winter sunshine, dazzling and heart-melting.
"You actually believed me when I said I won an award?"
Lucas grabbed her hand, deliberately slipping on the ice and nearly toppling over.
Luckily, she caught him by the waist just in time, steadying them both.
Beauty narrowed her eyes suspiciously, scrutinizing him like a detective interrogating a suspect.
Tilting her chin up so far it nearly cramped, she spoke slowly, word by word: "Old man, don't lie to me.
Are you really bad at this, or are you faking it?
Did you bring me here just to stage a fall?"
