Page 42 of Lost in the Moonlight

Chapter Fourteen

Willow

SWAY

Performed by Danielle Bradbery

I was still practically vibrating withglee as I unwound my hair from its clip and pulled on another maxi skirt over my leggings. The Tea Spot had been busier than ever this morning, and all my samples had disappeared by ten o’clock. I’d have to make a triple-sized batch tonight, at least.

My phone buzzed, and I pulled it out to see a text from Lincoln.

My overly full heart almost burst out of my chest.

LINCOLN: I’m out front when you’re ready to walk home. Hector tells me there are no more samples. Did you really not save me any?

I hustled through the swinging doors, eyes searching the café for him and pulse spiking when I found his tall, broad-shouldered frame waiting off to the side of the door. Only thevery tip of his nose and chin were visible under the baseball cap he wore as he glared down at his phone.

Why, when I knew just how impossible it all was, did I still long to wipe away his frowns and scowls and bad moods? Why did I yearn so badly for the one man I couldn’t have? Why was it only the idea ofhissmiles andhisbrilliant cobalt-colored eyes lighting up at the sight of me that brought happy butterflies to my chest?

A long-sleeved, white Henley was spread tight across wide shoulders, his carefully sculpted muscles were easy to miss if you gave him just a cursory glance, but when you lingered on him, they stood out, screaming strength. His shirt was tucked in at his narrow waist where artfully worn jeans covered equally muscled thighs. He was stunning. And people noticed, eyes drifting toward him and away.

Even though the café was extremely crowded, there was a bubble of empty space around Lincoln. I wasn’t sure if it was because of the leave-me-alone vibe he was putting off, that rigidly straight back screaming confidence, or the simple fact the regulars didn’t know him.

As if he felt me staring, his head lifted, and his gaze locked on me from across the room.

The grin that wiped away his frown caught my breath. A little thrill tripped through me, knowing I’d been the reason for it.

Mom was right that I liked this man. Utterly and completely too much. And even though standing next to him in the daylight was stupid and risky, my feet still moved toward him as if his gaze had reeled me in.

“Hey,” I said, wondering why it sounded so stupid. And then all thought disappeared, and heat bloomed along my skin as he slowly took me in from head to toe.

He brushed a loose strand of my hair back behind my ear, finger skimming my cheek, and my whole body lit up. I’d never understood that phrase in books, the idea of my body literally bursting into awareness seeming impossible, but now I knew. No matter what else happened from here, I had Lincoln to thank for giving me that experience.

He looked down at my hands, where I was clutching my phone so tightly I thought it might break. “I don’t see a treat in those pretty fingers. I can’t believe you didn’t save me even one.”

He raised a brow, and the intensity of his stare made my insides flip-flop.

“I forgot to tell Hector the little box in the kitchen was for you. He handed it to the art teacher at Bonnin who started this madness.” I waved my hand at the crowd.

Lincoln’s eyes journeyed around the room and then back to me. The upward tilt of his lips disappeared into a new scowl. “Poco show up?”

I shook my head and then hurried toward the door. Lincoln’s quick stride allowed him to pass me and open it before I got there. I slid by, arm brushing along his chest, causing fire to erupt inside me.

As we stepped outside into the sunshine that dappled the tree-lined sidewalk with diamonds of light, we almost ran into another group of students hurrying toward the café. As they passed us, one of them turned to stare at Lincoln before whirling back around and whispering to her friends who all shot looks our way.

And that sucked some of the pleasure from my morning away, replacing it with panic. And while none of the girls took out their phone and snapped a photo, what was to say the next person who recognized him wouldn’t? Or what if some paparazziI didn’t even see was staked out, trying to catch a glimpse of the president’s son?

After I’d spurred our pace to almost a jog, needing to get to the safety of our street before anyone else recognized him, I asked, “How do you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Ignore the looks and the whispering?” His chin jerked up, searching behind us for someone staring. When he turned back to me with a furrowed brow, I waved my hand back in the direction of the café. “They’re gone now. They went inside.”

The rigidness of his shoulders grew impossibly tighter. “Did they take a picture?”

I shook my head.

“We’re trying to keep it on the down-low that I’m here in Cherry Bay—at least until I open the gallery.”

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