Page 24 of Cloud Storm

As the gentleman that he is—when hunger does not make him a tyrant, in his own words—he opens the car door, helps me get in and after leaving me safely in place, he walks around the car to do the same.

I look around and swear I almost open the door to dust my shoes with a very fine bristle brush. The car is pristine, the black leather upholstery is immaculate. It smells like a mixture of brand new car and the cologne its owner wears, and the dashboard looks as if it had just been cleaned.

“To Seaport Village, you say?” he asks smiling, as soon as he has clicked his seat belt in place.

“You don’t have to come, you can leave whenever you’re ready, if you prefer. I can take a Lyft or you can drop me off at the restaurant’s parking lot. I’m sure Roselynn and Chase will give me a ride back home.”

“And why would I want to do that?” he argues, then presses the power button and the engine roars to life.

With nothing worth saying, I simply shrug. What the hell, he’s going into this with open eyes.

I’m so nervous. Luckily I always have one of my lollipops in my bag. I take off the plastic wrapper and plug it in my mouth.

Cherry and lime today, delicious.

Lancelot gives me a side glance, something burning in those gorgeous eyes. Good thing I have something to do, I’m focusing on my lollipop for dear life, enjoying the distraction from his heavy, needy stare.

“You’re very invested in your task, eh?” Lancelot asks, adjusting himself in his seat, something in his jeans.

He’s hiding an anaconda in there?

“I’m a sucker for these lollipops,” I reply and I want to add, I’m a sucker for you too, but we aren’t at that point yet. Crossing fingers we will be some time soon.

After about five minutes of riding the busy downtown streets, we enter the Seaport parking lot and as always on Sunday, the place is bursting. We’re forced to make a couple of laps around the parking lot, until, luckily, another car leaves.

I know the place well, so when I close the car’s door I stash my lollipop in its wrapper and put it back into my purse, taking the hand Lancelot is offering me as we start walking toward the small shopping galleria—the restaurant is on the farther side, built over the water. The view is beautiful. Roselynn and Chase should be there waiting for us.

The moment I realize what I’ve done, it’s too late to worry about it, so with my head held high and acting as if this is something very natural, I continue holding his hand tightly until we cross the aisles toward the restaurant.

“Look, there they are,” I exclaim. And as if the place were huge, Roselynn beckons us like crazy.

At her side Chase is all smiles. What can the poor man do? He knew she was crazy before he married her. He can no longer complain. Over warning there is no deception.

Lancelot seems very happy to be here and if that’s not the case, his face shows no sign of displeasure, even his perennial frown has vanished. He looks younger, more serene and damn it, even more attractive.

It has to be one of his superpowers.

The hostess guides us to the table where my friends are waiting for us. The view is majestic, and no, I’m not talking about the man walking by my side.

The restaurant is nothing fancy, just constructed from wooden boards over the bay, the main event here is the view. And the food, of course.

“You sure took your sweet time,” Roselynn says sarcastically as soon we are seated around the table.

So, what?

“Took forever to find a parking spot,” Lancelot replies, dismissing her complaints. She’s such a mother hen.

I give her the stink eye, but we have little time for a stare fight, because Lancelot is whispering to me.

“What should I have?” he asks in a low voice. His breath caresses my ear and I get goose bumps. I have to restrain myself not to lean into him.

“Everything’s good here, I’m sure you’ll like whatever you order.”

After a few minutes of deliberation, he picks fish tacos, while I order the food I’ve been craving. As always, the fish and chips with tartar sauce and green beans is delicious.

And then, somehow without realizing it, I’ve become a chatterbox.

What’s happening to me?

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