Her Loyal Seal(32)

He watched as she swirled her bacon in the syrup and took a bite. It was so sexy the way she relished her food. Then she took a sip of milk, and was left with a trace of liquid on her upper lip. As she talked about her sister, all he could do was think about licking her lips, kissing her, sucking her tongue into his mouth.

“Don’t you think so?”

“What?” Clint shifted in his seat and looked down at his cold eggs. Damn, he hoped they didn’t have to walk out of here soon, he needed a few minutes to calm down. The waitress came over to top off the coffee.

“I’d ask if you if you didn’t like your food, but I think I know what the problem was, hun.” She gave Clint a wink and walked off.

“What’s she talking about?” Lydia asked.

“Our waitress figured out I was too busy staring at you to finish eating breakfast.”

Lydia looked down at Clint’s plate that was only halfway eaten and eyed him.

“You ordered too much food.”

“Baby, this is an appetizer. Give me your hand.” Lydia thrust out her arm, palm up and Clint grasped it between both of his. “Even though we’re going to make it to Tampa tonight and we could start staying at the safe house, I made reservations at a hotel overlooking the Bay.”

“You did?”

“I did. I thought you might like to have dinner on the balcony of our room and watch the water.”

She gave him a slow smile. “I would love that.”

Yep, he was definitely walking out of the diner with a hard-on.



****



It shouldn’t matter. It really shouldn’t matter. But it did. Lydia looked down into her suitcase and saw two more clean sleep shirts. More clean boring underwear. Another pair of clean jeans and a clean sweater, and the one really cute thing she had to wear, she was wearing!

She’d been hiding out in the bathroom for damn near an hour. Clint had to know something was up, but every time he knocked, she said she’d be out in ‘just a minute’.

She swiped at her eyes. Dammit. There’s no crying in football. Soccer. Whatever the fuck they called fucking FUTball in this country. Or was it baseball? She slammed her suitcase down onto the closed lid of the toilet.

“Lydia?”

“What?” she yelled. Then she winced. She didn’t want Clint to know he had been cuddling an irrational woman for the last three nights. Damn this recovery! But she wasn’t crazy. This was a big deal. She wanted to look really pretty. She wanted to wear something nice.

She took a big breath. What was it her friend from Memphis used to say? Suck it up, Buttercup. She looked in the mirror. Her hair and teeth were brushed. Her makeup was fresh. It was as good as it was going to get. Oh yeah, she needed to smile. She repaired the little bit of mascara that smeared from her runaway tear and opened the bathroom door, and found herself staring into the green fleece of Clint’s sweatshirt. His arm was leaning against the bathroom doorframe.

She bent back her neck and saw the concerned look on his face.

“You doing better, Baby?”

She worked hard to keep on the smile she had perfected in front of the mirror. “I’m fine. I’m sorry I worried you.”

“Not worried, just a little concerned. Sounded like you were ref’ing a game in there.”

“What?”

He tucked one unruly curl behind her ear. “You were talking about football and soccer and then baseball. I thought you might be trading me in for a professional athlete or something.”

Shit, did she say that out loud?

“Come with me. There’s something I want to do before dinner.” He ran his hand down her bare arm exposed by the yellow cotton sundress. He ushered her out of the room and into the hallway towards the elevator.

When they stepped onto the elevator, she looked around the six people with her, and told herself to get a grip. Yeah, there might be an outrageously dressed couple, but there was also a tired mother and father who obviously just been to the beach with their two little children. So she wasn’t totally out of place. Still…

Clint guided her out the elevator, through the lobby then outside to the promenade of shops that connected the hotel to three others. Twinkling lights dotted all the little potted palm trees, and people from all walks of life were peering in windows of the different stores.

The first one that caught Lydia’s eyes had crystal geodes. Holding the door open was a rock almost as tall as the two little boys who were crouched down in front of it. They were clearly fascinated with the purple amethyst crystal shattered across the inside, making it sparkle and glow.

“Dad, do all rocks look like this inside?” One of the boys asked the tall man standing next to him.