Page 45 of Sounds Like Love

I quickly cut my gaze away, swallowing thickly, feeling like there was a rock lodged in my throat. I remembered the way he had kissed me, the taste of his lips, how his long fingers wove into my hair—

You didn’t like it, I chastised myself.

He quirked an eyebrow. “That’s a lie.”

“Eavesdropper,” I accused, my cheeks reddening. “It doesn’t mean anything—”

The walkie-talkie on my hip buzzed and Dad asked, “Sweetheart, are you lost? Did you get taken? Caw-caw twice if you need help.”

To which my brother replied over the walkie-talkie, “Rumor is there was some famous guy in the lobby. She’s probably too busy mooning over him to answer.”

My eyes widened. If my cheeks could get any redder, they did. It felt like they were glowing from how hot they were. For a second, I was thankful that it was too dark for him to see, but then the houselights came on.

Sebastian smirked.

I wondered if I pushed him off the balcony, would that solve my problem? My luck, he would just come back to haunt me.

“I’d be a pretty sexy ghost,”he agreed. I glared.

“My only daughter?” Dad gasped, his breath making the radio crackle. “Never!”

But my brother was already singing, “Joni and Dude-Bro sitting in a tree, S-E-X-ING-I-N-G—”

“My little girl, all grown up.” Dad sighed.

Before this could become any more mortifying, I grabbed the walkie-talkie and snapped, “I AMNOT.”

“Methinks my sister protests too much,” Mitch commented.

“Daughter! There you are!” Dad cried. “I’m sorry to interrupt your little game of hide the chicken—”

“Sausage,” Mitch corrected.

“I will kill you both and hide your corpses so well that not even the worms will find you,” I threatened, turning away from Sebastian, who had already started to laugh. Of course he thought it was funny—me and him? Hilarious.

“Sorry, sorry, you were missing and I tried calling you with a caw-caw, but you didn’t answer,” Dad explained. “So, naturally, I assumed you were either kidnapped—”

“Or K-I-S-S-I-N-G,” Mitch sang.

“Or a secret third thing calleddoing my job,” I bit back. “What do you two want?”

“Show’s done,” Dad said, finally losing his bluster. “People are wrapping up their bar tabs, but Mitch has gone to help Sexy Beaches load back up.”

“I’ll be down in a sec,” I replied, and turned the radio silent so that neither of them could sneak in any last remarks. I clipped the walkie-talkie to my back pocket again and turned to Sebastian Fell. “Mr. Fell—”

He scrunched his nose. “Really?”

“Sebastian,” I corrected.

This time, his mouth twisted in disappointment, as if it was still the wrong name.Sasha, I remembered, but now that name felt too intimate for whatever this was.

I pushed through it. “I have to go do my job. I’m sure you can find your way out yourself.”

“But what about our problem?” he asked.

I didn’t know, and I didn’t have time to decide—my feelings felt too complicated. “I … I have to go.” I excused myself, and escaped the balcony—and Sebastian Fell—as quickly as I could.

A DOZEN ORso patrons lingered at the bar until last call, when I rang out everyone’s cards at the ancient till with the Elvis bobble-head glued to the top. By then, Mitch had returned with the lockbox from the office and started counting out the night’s money at the corner of the bar.After the last person left, I shoved the credit card receipts and petty cash into a cracked plastic envelope and gave it to him to add.

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