Late Nights & Love Lines (Single Dad Hotline #2)

14. Collars and tombstones

14

COLLARS AND TOMBSTONES

ROWAN

“ D ance with me.” Sebastian’s quiet words silence the table of talkers. Again, he doesn’t ask. He demands, and freaking hell, does my body respond. Even the ocean breeze has settled as if he’s commanded it too.

“I’m busy with the girls,” I say without looking at him. Doing so is like being frozen by Medusa herself—it’s dangerous.

Tabby and Beck’s wife, Stella, don’t hide their laughter. The fruity concoction they made with more parts tequila than juice might have something to do with it.

“Oh, that’s hot,” Bella whispers to my right. I still haven’t figured out how she fits into this trio, but there’s no denying she’s one of them.

Their eyes widen comically as they all sink lower into their chairs at once. Then, of their own volition, my lashes flutter closed when Sebastian presses his lips into my hair.

“Dance with me, Rowan,” he says for my ears only, “or I’m going to tell all your new friends exactly what I want to do to your tight little body, and trust me, I’ll be very thorough in my descriptions.” Those gravelly words scrape across my skin more sensually than a Wartenberg wheel.

He’s barely finished speaking before I stand so quickly that I almost topple my chair over.

“What do you think he said?” Tabby asks out of the side of her mouth. The alcohol has apparently made them incapable of whispering.

“Oh, it was something dirty all right.” Lottie grins. “You don’t get that red from a grocery list.”

“And she’s breathing hard,” Bella says behind her hand.

“Are her hands shaking?” Tabby chuckles.

“Okay, that’s enough of…whatever this is,” I say, spinning to face Sebastian up close for the first time in hours.

Damn. That was a mistake. His charcoal gray T-shirt is stretched at the neck where Miles must have weighed it down and a tiny tuft of chest hair pokes through it.

“You.” I point at his chest because I can’t bring myself to lift my gaze from how his shirt clings to his pecs. “Let’s go.”

I march toward the dance floor, but he takes my hand and walks me right over and past it.

“I thought you wanted to dance?”

The moonlight bathes his face in dim light and shadows.

“I do, but not here. Leo and Beck told me about a place on the other side of the house. It’s up the beach a bit.” He pauses and glances down at my feet. “Is your ankle okay to walk?”

Eye rolls around here seem to be contagious. “Yes, I told you I was fine when it happened. It’s not the first time I’ve dealt with a sprain. A couple of days of ice and elevation at night and it was good to go.”

He frowns at my answer but takes me at my word and leads me away from the party that’s starting to wind down.

Were they all waiting for him to fetch me?

“It looked like you were having fun with the girls,” he says, breaking our silence as we walk along the shore.

“Well, they’re very pushy and sneakily kind. They’re the kind of people you never intend to befriend and before you know it, you’re a bridesmaid.”

His eyes crinkle with a secret, but he says nothing.

“Did you put them up to this? Oh my God. Did you coerce them into hanging out with me and tricking me into helping plan something for the camp kids next week? That’s so embarrassing, Sebastian. You can’t force people to befriend me.”

The hand still holding mine spins me, and I dizzily crash into his chest.

“There was no coercion, sweetheart.” Oh lord. Please don’t call me that. “They like you, and it appears that you like them. Is it so hard to believe that you might have made a few friends?”

“That’s not, I didn’t?—”

“You’re easy to like.” He presses a gentle kiss on my forehead, and everything I’ve ever said about not being a girly girl or wanting romance shrivels up and dies because at this moment, I want him to give me all of those kisses that turn my insides into molten lava.

“You’re also incredibly intelligent and have a way with kids, so I’m sure they understand that you’re a great benefit to whatever it is they’re planning. I’m also sure they realize you’re an asset as much as a friend. You have a lot to offer people, Rowan. You just have to allow them to see it.”

Keeping our hands clasped together, he tugs me along beside him as we pass the house on our left. It’s a tactic to keep me from responding, and it’s for the best because my mind is a muddled mess of woulda, coulda, shouldas.

Would I be able to maintain a friendship?

Could I even form real friendships?

Should I try for…more?

“Breathe, Rowan. None of this is a trick. I swear the sound of your mind racing could scare off an entire ocean of creatures.”

“It doesn’t seem to be scaring you off,” I mutter.

His thick, velvety laughter skims down my body, heating my skin to uncomfortable temperatures.

“Not much scares me anymore, sweetheart.”

I have to put a stop to this. He can’t use those endearments with me. I’m leaving in a couple of weeks.

Before I can open my mouth to tell him so, the beach curves inward, creating a little cove. On the beach ahead of us is a blanket, a picnic basket, and gas torches lighting our way.

The words I’m leaving curl up in my throat and kick at my neck until it’s so swollen air can barely pass through.

“Don’t freak out,” he says, physically pulling me forward now. “It’s only so we can have some time to talk, in private.”

We reach the blanket, and he kicks off his flip-flops, then sits down and leans back on his hands as he scans my body in a slow perusal that tickles my skin and causes the flutters in my belly to ricochet off each other.

And I am totally fucking freaking out.

“I agreed to a dance.” The words are stilted and thick.

“We’ll dance,” he promises, holding up a small Bose speaker, then he pats the blanket beside him.

“Seb…”

“I love when you call me that.”

With one sentence of praise, my shoulders drop, and I give in. I’ve never felt so weak yet so emboldened as I do when I’m next to this man. Lowering myself to the sand, I kick my legs out beside his.

I don’t want to be a broken record, but he knows I’m not planning to stay, so why is he putting in all this effort?

“Two weeks,” he says, acknowledging our expiration date, and possibly every thought sprinting through my mind.

“Two weeks,” I repeat, but the words cut like glass leaving my tongue.

“I think I’ve gone through a lifetime of emotions in a very short amount of time with you, Peach.” He lowers himself to his elbows, then lies flat on the blanket.

It’s uncanny how easily he reads my mind.

“The kids are adjusting well,” I say.

He smirks up at my weak attempt at keeping us on safer topics.

“They are,” he agrees. “Thanks to you.”

I wave him off. “Any nanny could have done it, Seb.”

His hand snatches mine out of midair. He places the softest of kisses on the inside of my wrist, right over the tattoo that’s kept me tethered to him even when I thought I’d never see him again. When did that become so damn sexy?

“No.” He swipes gentle kisses across my wrist. Back and forth. Back and forth as if he understands the tattoo is a reminder of the only time I’ve ever truly been happy. “Not everyone could have gotten through to Seren as you have.”

His movements on my wrist steal my attention, jumbling my thoughts and making it impossible to form a coherent sentence.

“We have two weeks left, Rowan. Do you really want to wonder? Years from now, will you regret not jumping in and taking a chance on something that in our souls we know is right?”

“Maybe, if things had been different,” I say, then shake my head. “But they weren’t. And now I’m this version of me. You may not like that, or who I’ve become, but this is me, Seb. Every broken promise, every bruised rib, every hardship I’ve ever faced is tied together with fraying ribbons that sometimes slide this way and that, but never allow me to stay because if I do, they’ll eventually untether, and I’ll never find myself again.”

He simply continues to kiss my wrist, and then up the sensitive skin on the inside of my arm.

“What if I want to undo all those fraying ribbons and tie you back together with something stronger, more stable?”

A tear slides down my cheek. Years’ worth of sadness constricts my lungs, and every time he speaks of a future, or of not wanting to change me, the sadness squeezes harder.

“I am stronger.” I am. I’m not the little girl who gets crushed anymore. I did that. I made myself strong.

“You are. But are you stable? Is your foundation stable?”

At some point, he’s risen to his knees and climbed between my legs. How did I miss that?

His languid kisses now reach my shoulder, and the ties that hold my dress together feel flimsy at best.

I’d be a fool if I didn’t know exactly where this was headed the second I saw the setup. And perhaps a small piece of me, the piece that has been denied for so long, is fighting against everything I’ve made to be true.

I want to know what it’s like to be held and not equate the sensation to fire ants feasting on my skin.

I want to know what it’s like to be cared for and adored.

Taken care of.

“For today.” The words, my final attempt at keeping my armor in place, hit the air with a hiss when his tongue darts out to touch my collarbone.

I wouldn’t mind collaring you.

His sexily inappropriate comment from earlier flitters across my conscience, and for a split second in time, I can easily envision what being tied to another person would entail.

And for the first time in my life, I don’t run.

“For today and tomorrow,” he agrees, giving me this, my safety net, because I need it despite my best efforts, and he understands me in a way I never imagined another living soul could.

His tongue sweeps up the side of my neck, hot sensation pouring down my throat and into my belly, and a low, wanton moan escapes me.

“This isn’t why I brought you here,” he whispers against my skin. His lips fall away, but his forehead stays pressed to my skin.

I arch my back enough that we’re nose-to-nose and flash him my best yeah right expression with one raised brow.

“I swear I didn’t.” This time, he puts some space between us and pulls the basket closer to him.

I attempt to even my breaths as he pulls out a…a cribbage board?

So many things hit me all at once. I’m being swept away at sea with nothing to grab ahold of.

I’m adrift.

Officially untethered.

“How? How did you remember this?” I’m so emotional my mouth goes dry because all the moisture in my body is pooling in the corners of my eyes. The tremor in my hands makes a tap, tap, tap sound against my thigh, and it’s all I can do to keep myself from breaking down and sobbing right here on the beach.

No one has ever paid this much attention to me. Not even my father, the one person who always gave me unconditional love.

“Sweetheart.” He groans as if what he’s about to say hurts him. “I remember every single thing you’ve ever said. Every memory was locked away for safekeeping in my mind as though it always knew I’d find you again.”

“My—my dad.” I cover my mouth to force a choked sob back into my throat. I can’t break down. Giving him this piece of myself, it’s…too much.

“You learned to play when he was ill,” he says quietly, and I exhale with a shudder. “And it was the first thing your mother ever took from you.”

She blamed me. Not for my father’s illness, but for occupying all his time in his last months.

“I didn’t want to make you cry, Peach. I only wanted to give you back something you should have never lost. I wanted to show you that I care, and I really want your todays and your tomorrows.”

That’s it. He’s finally taken my strings and weaved them with his magic because I no longer recognize what’s holding me together.

I’m in a freefall where I can’t predict the consequences or the next steps. It’s only the here. The today.

And today, I kiss him.

I kiss him like I’ll never let go. And I kiss him so I’ll have the memory for a lifetime because no experience on earth will ever hold more meaning than this one, right here.

On my tombstone, I want it to say I kissed him today .