Page 132 of When Hearts Remember

P.P.S. If this feeling isn’t all in my head, would you be open to meeting in person?

“Ugh, Lexy. He was asking if you wanted to continue emailing him and you pretty much asked him out. You’re such an idiot!” I mutter under my breath.

Just then, I hear steady footsteps coming my direction, but I can’t see who it is, since the low-hanging tree branches hide the view from me.

Before I can brush the branches aside and look, a pair of black boots appear in my vision.

Followed by dark jeans, a navy sweater hiding muscles I know are strong because I’ve felt them up close and personal before.

Five o’clock shadow, a sharp jawline.

The most addictive scent of leather and amber.

Ethan stands a few feet away, his feet coming to an abrupt halt, his startling eyes flaring.

“Nova,” he whispers. “You’re here.”

Chapter 42

“Nova?” A muscle ticsin his jaw, his hands curling into fists. His eyes darken and his throat works—like he’s struggling to get words out.

“Ethan, why are you here? And why do you keep calling me that?”

My question jolts him, and he shakes his head like he’s coming out of a trance.

“Alexis, why are you here today?” His voice sounds unused.

I narrow my eyes at him imitating me.

“This is my haven.” I smile and motion to the quiet courtyard.

“Really now. Your haven. And here I am thinking this ismyhaven.”

We have the same haven?A smile twitches my lips and I see a mischievous glimmer in his eyes.

“I like the gardens here. It’s peaceful. I visit from time to time,” he murmurs.

“Want to join me?” I point to my lunch set up. “I brought extra food. I was planning to park out here for a few hours to get some assignments done, but I’m happy to share.”

I unpack the food containers from my bag.

Sliced ham and cheese cubes, fig jam and crackers, some sandwiches I picked up from the deli by my apartment—the crusts cut off, of course—and a bottle of water along with my iced tea.

When he doesn’t answer, I glance up, finding his nostrils flaring, his intense eyes riveted on me.

“Do I have something on my face?” I brush my hair, untangling a few strands from my hummingbird earrings. “Why are you staring at me like that?”

Ethan stays silent. Almost as still as the gargoyles perched on the rooftops of the building.

I beckon him over. “Come on, live a little. Join my picnic. It’s a perfect day for one, don’t you think?”

His fingers twitch. I roll my eyes, reach up, and grab his hand.

Sparks alight when our hands touch and heat charges through me. Ignoring the wild pounding of my heart, I pull him down beside me and hand him a sandwich and the bottle of water.

I want to understand the mystery that is Ethan Anderson.

I want to know what he’s hiding behind those soulful eyes.

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