A Stone in the Sea(22)

“Definitely. When I came back, I knew I never wanted to leave again.”

“Came back?”

I cringed, faked a smile. “Yeah, moved away for a while. But I’m home now.”

I was quick to change the subject. “So how long are you going to be in town?” I cringed again because I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.

Tension wound through his muscles, and he ran an uneasy hand through his hair. “Don’t know, Shea. A little while at least.”

My eyes narrowed in speculation, because his tone was all off. “What are you doing in town, anyway?”

Something told me he wasn’t here on vacation.

He sighed, an all around frustrated sound when he gave me the vague answer. “Staying at a friend’s house until I figure out what the hell I’m doing with my life.”

“You don’t work?”

Harsh laughter rocked from him. “That’s being called into question right now.”

“Care to elaborate?” I asked with a lift of my brow, compelled to dig a little further into him, to all that mystery shrouded beneath that blasé, badass posture.

“Care to tell me why a girl like you spends all her time working at a bar?” he countered.

“A girl like me?”

“Smart. Sweet. Seems like an odd place for you to be.”

I dropped my gaze to the side. The fiery burn of a blush climbed up my neck and settled on my cheeks, while a flare of guilt licked up my insides. Perhaps I should just tell him. But I didn’t want to change the dynamic of tonight, because it was the only one we had.

Just for tonight.

He exhaled. “Why don’t we get out of here? If I only have you for tonight, I don’t want to waste it on shit we can’t change.”

I almost laughed because it was like he’d plucked the thoughts right out of my head, and the night would be coming to an end sooner than we knew it.

Baz climbed out, dug into his wallet. Pulling out a large bill, he tossed it on the table.

A smirk tugged at my upper lip. “You have a bad habit of over-tipping, Mr. Guy-Whose-Job-Is-Being-Called-Into-Question.”

He barked out a laugh, those grey eyes filling with the sweetest kind of mischief. My body shook of its own accord, unable to stop the reaction he continued to draw right out of me.

“Nah. I know what it’s like to work hard and not be appreciated. It’s my way of showing that everyone matters, no matter what they do.”

Crawling out from the booth, I found myself once again completely confounded by this man, the continual contrast of brash and hard and intimidating up against the gentleness that seemed to seep from him without him even knowing it.

Who is this man?

His big hand closed over mine, his touch ushering in the tension that seemed to act as my own weakness. Enchanted, I followed him out of the diner and into the night. It was deep, the darkest hour that settled over the Earth before the sun shed its light to proclaim a new day.

I wanted to put it on pause. To live in this fantasy, just for a little while.

This time, Baz adjusted the helmet on my head, his eyes locked on mine as he slowly latched the strap, neither of us saying anything when he hooked his leg over the bike, never letting go of my hand as he gently tugged me to follow.

I snuggled up against him, and my body released a contented sigh. I hooked my chin over his shoulder, getting the closest I could get, and Baz kicked it over. The bike rumbled, the engine vibrating beneath us as he took it to the pavement.

He didn’t tell me where he was taking me or ask me where I wanted to go. He just rode. And it felt like forever and no time at all as his bike ate up the streets until there was no city behind us, just deserted roads, trees hugging them tight, as tight as Baz and I hugged the corners.

But not nearly as tight as I hugged his waist.

It was exhilarating, liberating. Baz had me feeling like a young girl with dreams again. But this time that young girl wasn’t suffocated with elevated dreams that were not her own. Instead she felt the fluttering of dreams that were simple.

A simple girl who wanted a simple boy.

But I knew in my gut Sebastian Stone was anything but simple.

I kind of wanted to panic when he finally turned around and headed back into town. At a stoplight, he turned his face toward me, his nose a fraction from mine, his hand back on my thigh. “Where do you live?”

I gave him a quick rundown on how to get there, back near the bar but a few streets in. I hugged him even tighter as he took the few turns that brought us into my neighborhood, knowing this magical night was coming to an end.

He pulled to a stop in front of the blue two-story historic, white shutters around the windows, the sight of the cute little porch swing hanging from the wooden beams enough to swell my heart in a rush of wistfulness.