Page 58 of How Sweet It Is

I fold my arms to hide the way my stomach flips. It’s the first time he’s said my name, and it kills me a little inside becausethat’s not really my name. “It’s just jeans,” I say to hide my discomfort.

He steps closer. “It’s notjustanything. It’s you. Comfortable. Real. A little dangerous.”

“Dangerous?” I echo. I’m about as far from dangerous as a person can get.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, voice dipping. “Because if you keep showing me this version of you, I might fall for you.”

For a second, the world tips sideways.

I swallow. “Then I better be careful.”

He grins like I’ve passed a test I didn’t know I was taking. “Too late for that.”

CHAPTER 28

LEVI BARRETT — SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 13

Itake Amelia to my favorite dive bar on the mainland. The smell hits us the second we walk in. Grilled meat, fried onions, and cedarwood along with the unmistakablecrunchof peanut shells under boots. Amelia pauses in the doorway, her eyes wide as she surveys the mess of the floor. She looks like someone has just invited her to eat dinner in a barn.

“People just… throw the shells on the floor?” she asks.

“It’s tradition,” I say, holding the door open wider with a flourish. “The more shells you drop, the more fun you’re having.”

She gives me a side-eye that practically screams,You dragged me into the wilderness, but she steps inside anyway. Brave girl. I guide her to a booth toward the back, close to the swinging kitchen doors, where the noise is a little less deafening.

We sit. A bowl of peanuts already waits for us in the center of the table. I grab one, crack it open, and toss the shell over my shoulder. It lands on the floor with a satisfyingclack.

“That’s chaos,” she says, eyeing me.

“Try it. There’s something freeing about it.”

She crosses her arms. “You can’t honestly enjoy eating in this kind of environment.”

I lean toward her. “I do. There’s something pure about a place that doesn’t pretend to be fancy. What you see is what you get.”

“You mean sticky floors and a health-code violation waiting to happen.”

I grin. “Loosen up.”

She tries. She really does. I see her pick up a peanut, crack it open like it might explode, then gingerly toss the shells onto the table. Not the floor. Just... to the side. Baby steps.

“You’re not going to spontaneously combust if you let go a little,” I say.

She sighs. “I know. It’s just... habit.”

“Old habits die hard?”

“Something like that.”

She picks up her menu, and her eyes widen. “They have gluten-free burgers?”

I grin. That’s the real reason I brought her here. The peanut shells on the floor are an added bonus. “They do.”

The waitress comes by, and we order burgers, fries, and root beer in tall frosted mugs. The good stuff. After the waitress leaves, I turn to Amelia. “How are things going with your handsy cousin?”

She squirms. “He actually left the island.”

My eyebrows rise. “He did?”

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