ELEVEN Quincy #2
I’m a secret romantic. I could see myself getting married one day.
Could see myself making pancakes on a Sunday morning with a man who wraps his arms around my waist and tells me how beautiful I am.
He’d tug me away from my desk after I worked too late, not upset I spent an afternoon in front of my computer instead of with him.
We’d argue, but it wouldn’t get very far before we kissed and made up.
I bet it would be nice to have someone light up when they saw me from across the room.
“Yeah.” I swirl my drink around with the cinnamon stick poking out of my glass. I wonder what the record for longest stretch of time without entertaining a man is. I’m probably closing in on the leaderboard. “Around there.”
“Could it be because you have eyes for someone else? Say …” Mia gives me a coy grin. “My brother?”
“What?” I choke out a cough. “You’re not serious.”
“I watched your videos from Claudia. The two of you have chemistry.”
“We have a shared passion for weather and get excited when we indulge in that passion. That’s not chemistry. It’s being professional when I’m forced to be in his presence for an extended amount of time. Especially when I’m on camera. I can’t have the Sebastian Dunn Fan Club coming after me.”
I don’t mention our dinner at Waffle House.
I don’t let them know I joined him willingly, sitting and listening to the raw scratch of his voice as he told me deep, dark secrets not even his best friends know.
The vulnerability I saw from him and how it made my heart ache.
I certainly don’t bring up the sweatshirt I tried to return to him when we got back to my car, the shake of his head when he told me to hold on to it following me all the way home.
“You are cursing his name a lot less,” Harlow adds. “Maybe spending time with him is changing your tune.”
“Just because I’m not resorting to violence doesn’t make us friends.
Did seeing him rescue that woman make me realize there’s a sliver of selflessness inside him?
Perhaps.” I sip my drink, needing to clear my head.
To give myself a second to stall before going any further.
The memory of the car stuck in the water is still fresh in my mind.
It lingers when I’m trying to fall asleep.
Plays back like a movie late at night, the image of his strong rower’s body moving water like he was the force of nature.
“It’s good to know he’s not totally an arrogant spawn of Satan. ”
“Is that how you feel about me.” The voice behind me is a caress down my back. Featherlight touches and a bite mark on the inside of my thigh. “This might be the best night of my life.”
My mouth goes dry. White-hot mortification settles over me, the bar exponentially warmer than it was two minutes ago. My blood pressure is spiking. My eyes flutter closed then open as I turn my head, a dagger landing square in my chest.
There, staring right at me with tousled hair and his necklace twisted around his fingers, is Sebastian giving me the world’s biggest shit-eating grin.
“Harlow. Mia.” He moves his attention to my friends, relaxing against the wall like he’s going to be here for a while. “Are y’all having a good night?”
“Seb!” Mia jumps to her feet, giving him a hug. “When you said you were going out with the guys, I thought you meant to The Hideout or a restaurant in town.”
“So did I, but we decided to mix it up.” He ruffles her hair, and I smile, proud when her knuckles land in his stomach. Dark eyes turn back to me. “Can’t tell you how much your kind words mean. Are you back to doodling my name in your diary?”
“Only in your dreams,” I toss back.
“That’s a shame. I bet we would be good together.”
I blush so hard my cheeks must be bright red. I do my best to toss my hair over my shoulder, to look unaffected by his sudden appearance, but I catch his eyes dipping to my lips. They linger on the corner of my mouth for a beat, pupils blown wide, before they drag away.
“I need another drink.” I stand and bump his arm with my elbow. “Does anyone else want something?”
“I’ll take another one of whatever this spicy concoction is.” Harlow arranges our glasses into a neat line. “Please, best friend of mine.”
“Mia?”
“No, thank you.” She puts a hand on her stomach. “But I would take some food. I’m starving, and I haven’t had dinner.”
“One basket of salty fries coming up.” I brush past Sebastian, stopping to look at him over my shoulder. “Do you know how to follow directions, Dunn?”
“Exceedingly well, Monroe.”
“Good. Heel,” I say, and he bursts out laughing as he follows me.
Space is limited when we finally make it to the bar. A guy a cocktail or two past drunk stumbles into me, and I nearly lose my footing. Sebastian positions himself behind me, his chest to my back, a hand planted on the counter on either side of my arms so I’m out of harm’s way.
“You okay?” he asks, a rasp in my ear.
“Yeah.” I clear my throat, gaze dropping to his large palms. There’s a scar above the knuckle of his ring finger on his right hand, and my mind drifts to the story behind the tiny mark.
A rambunctious younger Sebastian playing too hard and hurting himself?
Adult Sebastian tripping over a branch while chasing a storm? Why do I care? “Thanks.”
“What’s your drink of choice?” He bends his neck so I can hear him over the baseball game on the TV. “Let me guess. A hurricane?”
“I need to get out more and find some new hobbies. My life doesn’t revolve around weather phenomena.” I pause. “But I wouldn’t say no to a sweet drink every now and then. Especially one with rum in it.”
“I knew it. Okay. So, no tropical flavors tonight. What are you picking instead?”
“Whatever Mia ordered for us last time. If I wasn’t feeling festive with Christmas in July, I’d pick a gin and tonic with lime.
” I place an order and spin to face him, the small of my back pressing against the bar.
The movement brings our bodies closer, and I expect him to move.
To give me an inch or two, but Sebastian keeps his hands in place.
His forearms are a fortress, my private bodyguard in the crowded room. “What about you?”
“I never got into liking anything too fancy.” Sebastian gestures vaguely over his shoulder, and I spot the table where his friends are sitting. Cooper waves, moving their empty beer bottles into a triangle. One of them is wearing a hat made out of a folded napkin. “Beer is fine.”
“You didn’t like to party at UCF?”
“I was too busy trying to keep up with you in class. I couldn’t walk into Atmospheric Chemistry with a hangover and expect to do as well as you.”
“Who knew it only took a few drinks to get you to admit I was smarter than you?”
“Don’t twist my words, Quinny baby.” He dips his chin. Lets out a low rumble of an exhale. “But for the record, you are significantly smarter than me.”
I shift on my feet, the compliment wedging its way between my ribs. “Truth or Dare, Dunn?”
“I love when you play along.” His smile is the brightest thing in the bar. Twinkling lights on a Christmas tree in December. The perfect shade of sunshine. “Truth. Ask me anything you want.”
“Tell me about your tattoo.”
I don’t know if it’s how close he’s standing to me or the smell of something smoky hanging in the air.
Maybe it’s lowered inhibitions, loose thoughts.
That damn rescue scene playing in my head again, because I’m reaching over and pushing up his sleeve.
Tapping my fingers on the storm cloud inked on his arm and scraping my nails over his warm skin.
I trace the outline of the raindrops, and his palm folds over mine, heavy, steady. Sebastian moves slowly, guiding my touch to the microphone then back to the bolt of lightning on his bicep, and time stands still.
He’s touched me before, but this is different.
He’s so careful and quiet, and my traitorous, wretched mind wanders to his hands and what he likes to do with them.
How soft his mouth might be on my neck. If he could lift me up and pin me against a wall and if there are tattoos on other parts of his body I can’t see.