A Stone in the Sea(9)

Zachary, or Zee like he’d picked up when he was a kid, was Mark’s little brother and he’d been eager to fill his brother’s shoes when we lost him, whether to serve out some kind of penance or as a tribute, I wasn’t sure. Either way, he did his best to try and erase the void Mark had left.

But those voids? You couldn’t fill them.

I knew better than that.

Her eyes narrowed more. “Where are you from?”

For a second, I hesitated, before I cocked my head and draped my arms out across the back of the booth. “California.” A thick lump gathered at the base of my throat, before I forced myself to say it. “I’m Sebastian. But my friends call me Baz.”

As casual as could be, while inside I was fucking shaking, thinking saying it would clue her in. There was something desperate inside me that didn’t want her to know who I was.

Like maybe for a few hours she could make me forget who I was.

Make me forget.

I waited as my introduction penetrated her, and there was zero recognition behind it. Instead her eyes flashed with a second’s disappointment.

“Oh,” she said, and there was no missing the lilt of her accent. “Well, it’s nice to meet you Sebastian from California. I’m Shea.”

This girl was country. Through and through. Pretty damned sure even if I uttered the name Sunder she’d have no clue what I was talking about.

Suddenly I was picturing her in a car, top down, blonde hair whipping all around her face while she gripped the steering wheel and belted out a Faith Hill song or some shit.

The thought made me smile.

“What are you grinning at?”

“You.”

Heat gathered on her chest, raced up her neck to burn hot on her cheeks, and she was looking at me like she couldn’t believe the statement I’d made.

And if it wasn’t the cutest fucking thing I’d ever seen.

“Go out with me.” The words were out before I could stop them.

And God, it was stupid, because I sure as hell wasn’t looking for a girl. Didn’t need or want that kind of trouble in my life. I had enough of it as it was. Ash and Lyrik fucked around all the time, ate up the girls who threw themselves at us after every show, and I’d be a liar if I said I hadn’t taken advantage of that kind of situation on far too many occasions. But somehow about six months ago I’d gone and got stupid, hooked up with one of those Hollywood princesses with a too-bright smile, fake tits, and a starved-out body. Not that she wasn’t pretty and fun, because she was, but she’d gone and bailed on me the second things went south. She told me I was a publicity problem.

She wanted the look but not the real thing.

Fuck that.

Sad thing was, I really didn’t care. I didn’t miss her or wonder where we would have ended up had I kept my cool instead of coming unhinged.

But Shea? This girl staring at me with those wide eyes? I wanted to escape into her layers, to skim along the surface, and get lost in the beauty. To feel the shyness. To sink beneath, deeper into that pent-up confusion and dark.

To feel her storm.

Just for a little while.

Make me forget.

Shea startled, before she shook her head, dropping it as she cleared away my spent drink and tossed a couple fresh napkins onto the table. “I don’t really date.”

I forced some kind of lightness into my voice. “Boyfriend?”

Disbelieving, amused laughter trickled from her. “Nope.”

“Married? God, tell me you’re not married.” It was all flirt and tease, supplied by the relief I wasn’t going to have to go around some fucker to get to her, because she wasn’t wearing a ring and I was sure I already had the answer to that question.

She bit at her bottom lip, a little hard, the skin blanching beneath the firm hold of her teeth. The redness on her face throbbed. “No,” she finally said.

“Then what?”

“I just don’t have time for those kinds of distractions.”

“It’s not a distraction. Everyone has to eat.”

With a small laugh, she shook her head a little, her tone sliding back into amusement. “You hardly look like the kind of guy who just wants dinner.”

“Just dinner.” I flashed her my best grin. “I won’t bite.”

Her gaze skidded all over me, across the ratted-out old concert tee stretched across my chest, tracing down over my arms covered in ink, slow to travel back to my face. The expression on hers told me she didn’t believe me for a second.

“I promise,” I said, knowing it was an absolute lie.

She shook her head with a wry smile. “As tempting as it is, I’m going to have to pass. I don’t really make it a habit of going out with guys who show up at the bar.” She shrugged a delicate bare shoulder, and my mouth watered. The only thing I wanted was a taste of that delicious skin.