8. Sylvie
EIGHT
SYLVIE
It was rare I ever came face-to-face with Duke.
Sure, he occasionally made deliveries at the Sugar Bowl, but typically I steered clear of him.
I had the worst poker face, and I didn’t trust myself not to turn into a puddle of giggling goo around him.
When I found myself alone in the kitchen, his muscular body taking up a whole lot of space, it was hard to breathe.
I’d imagined what it might be like to finally have a real, in-person conversation now that we’d been texting for so long.
Stuck to the ground, staring at him was not how I envisioned it.
Duke was all man. His eyes were so dark—and the area where the irises melted into the blackness of his pupils was a much deeper shade of brown than I’d realized.
His hair was thick, and stubble dotted his square jawline.
His navy T-shirt stretched across his chest and tapered down to a well-worn pair of jeans.
Duke did rugged in a way that was impossibly sexy.
It was a miracle I could make it through the rest of the day. My brain was in a fog as I went through the motions and found myself daydreaming about Duke Sullivan. Twice Huck asked me if I was feeling okay, and hot embarrassment stained my cheeks.
After my shift I pushed all thoughts of my impossibly hot, impossibly forbidden friend out of my mind. I was lying in bed that night, wondering what Duke had thought of our bizarre interaction, when the ping of my phone startled me. I knew it was him before I even flipped over my phone.
John Oates
Didn’t mean to blindside you at work today.
So he had noticed my wide-eyed, mouth-breathing impersonation of a fish.
Awesome.
It was fine. Just caught off guard a little. It was silly.
I can wear a bell next time, if that helps.
In my bed, I giggled at the thought of Duke wearing a tiny bell around his neck like a cat.
Please do. Thanks.
Yes, ma’am.
I swallowed hard. I liked this side of Duke—a fun and playful side that felt so different from his typically stoic persona. Maybe it was a part of him he reserved just for me. I bit back a smile at the thought that any part of Duke was mine.
Sneak around startling any other strange women today?
Duke didn’t respond right away. It wasn’t uncommon for either of us to be interrupted.
More times than I could count I’d had to quickly exit the conversation and hide my phone before someone started asking questions.
Usually we just picked up our chat later or the next day, and it never seemed like a big deal.
I jumped when my phone vibrated with an incoming call.
John Oates calling . . .
I stared at the name. My hands trembled as I fumbled to answer.
“Um, hello?” My voice was soft, as if I could get into trouble by talking with him, even though I was alone in my room.
“Hey.” Duke’s voice was liquid over gravel—warm and low. A tingle ran down my spine. “Figured this is easier. I hope it’s okay.”
I stared at my bedroom door, wondering how good the insulation was in that house and whether my sister or aunt would be able to hear me. I gently cleared my throat. “Great. Yeah. Totally fine.”
Get your shit together, Syl.
He chuckled and I squeezed my eyes closed.
I took a breath. “Where are you right now?” I gritted my teeth. My voice was breathy and definitely sounded a whole lot more like I had asked What are you wearing right now?
“Just got back from Haven Pines. Taking a few minutes before I get back to a few chores.” I could almost picture him leaning against a fence on his blueberry farm, the warm sun illuminating his rugged features.
“How is your dad?”
He was quiet, as though he wasn’t sure exactly how to answer. “Good as he can be, I guess. He’s tough. We’re getting through.”
It was clear Duke held a lot of love and respect for his father—a feeling I wished I could muster for my own. “MJ has always spoken so highly of him.”
“Yeah, she’s all right.” There was humor in his voice, and I warmed at the thought that maybe Duke didn’t despise my entire family.
“Oh, one of the Kings you can stand?” I teased.
He let out a low grumble, sending butterflies fluttering in my stomach. “Well, she’s in the top two at least.”
Did that mean—was I his number one?
It was a strange and wonderful thing to feel seen and important—especially by a man who you were expected to hate simply because your family told you to. There would always be old, bad blood between the Kings and Sullivans, and the mutual dislike ran deep.
“How was the rest of your day?”
I smiled, warmth spreading through my cheeks as I rolled to my back and sprawled across the comforter. “After my shift I went for a walk on the beach. Bootsy was selling shell bracelets, so I got one.”
“You know that’s just trash he finds and resells, right?”
I smiled. “Eh, that’s okay. It was pretty trash.”
He hummed but didn’t offer any judgment or criticism for helping out one of Outtatowner’s residents.
Bootsy was always around. He was eccentric and needed some extra care, something that the people of Outtatowner were happy to provide.
Sometimes I thought it was the one thing everyone in town could actually agree on.
On occasion I even saw my father speaking with Bootsy and giving him money.
It was one of the only things that made me think my father may still own a heart.
I stared at my ceiling, feeling like a teenager with her first crush. “After that I worked out, had dinner. I’m boring.”
“You aren’t boring. You’re... special, Sylvie.” He was quiet, and I was too stunned to speak. “Don’t let anyone make you think otherwise.”
His words touched me deeply, and for a moment I forgot about the animosity between our families. With Duke, I felt seen and appreciated in a way I never had before. It was both exhilarating and terrifying to have someone like him in my life.
Even if he was a secret.
Over the past eight months, with each flirtatious remark exchanged, the tension between us grew, and it felt like we were dancing on the edge of something exotic and dangerous.
Unsure of what to say, I stumbled with a response.
Before I could find one, Duke cut in. “I’ve got to finish up a few things around here. Can I call you again sometime?”
I toyed with my lip and tried to keep my voice light despite the awareness that prickled along my skin whenever I thought about him. “I’d like that. Maybe text to be sure it’s a good time to talk, though...”
Duke was quiet on the other end, and a small sliver of panic poked beneath my ribs.
“Of course. Good night, Sylvie.”
“’Night, Duke.”
I stared at my phone after the call ended and focused on breathing.
The giddy zip of excitement danced through my chest, and I held on to the feeling, ignoring the sadness that nestled next to it.
Talking with him was a guilty pleasure. If anyone found out, I would have a lot of angry people to answer to.
But there was no denying I had a big ol’ crush on Duke, and I definitely wasn’t supposed to.