Page 14 of Second Chance with the Half-Elf
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
I hate the way my skin flushes under his gaze. Hate the way his voice sinks low, like a tide pulling me off balance.
I open my mouth—probably to say something cutting—when Rowan rounds the corner.
“Well, aren’t you two just the picture of efficiency.”
Her tone’s light, but her eyes are sharp. Watching. Measuring.
I clear my throat. “Dropped the stack. Aeron caught the fallout.”
“Impressive.” She grins at him. “Here for your ship manifest books?”
“Among other things.” His gaze flicks back to me. “I’ll let you get back to it.”
Then he’s gone, boots soft against the worn wood.
I stare after him like a fool.
“Evie.” Rowan’s voice is sly. “You okay?”
“Fine.”
“You sure?”
I shoot her a look. “Don’t start.”
She just smiles. “You keep saying that.”
I gather the books with fingers that aren’t quite steady.
I manage to finish the damn shelving without further incident, though my pulse doesn’t fully settle until I’m back at the counter.
Rowan watches me over her mug of whatever herbal concoction she’s brewed this time.
“You could talk to him, you know.”
“Why?”
“Because this dance you’re doing? It’s exhausting to watch.”
“Not my problem,” I mutter, digging through the register drawer.
“Sure,” she says, drawling. “Keep telling yourself that.”
Jamie looks up from his atlas then, eyes wide. “Mama, is Miss Evie fighting a sad love story?”
Rowan chokes on her tea. I groan.
“Kid, where do yougetthis stuff?” I ask.
He beams. “Old Man Cass. He says all good sea stories need monsters and sad love.”
“Well.” I manage a weak smile. “He’s not wrong.”
Rowan arches a brow. “You’re not as bulletproof as you pretend, Bright.”
“Never claimed to be.”
