Page 87 of Star-Crossed
“Yeah, he’s the hot one.” Coming from Gabe, who was hot enough to moonlight as an exotic dancer to make ends meet, thatmeantsomething.
“If he’s the hot one, what does that make you?” Lyra asked.
“The mature one, obviously.” Gabe grinned over at her, his neck tattoos standing out in stark relief beneath the carnival lights. “Now, excuse me—I’m going to raid the cotton candy while I teach this hairy twat snot a lesson.”
Lyra and Gemma put their heads together to watch him saunter off in that loose-limbed way of his.
“You’re going to spend yourlifewith all that…maturity,” Lyra said.
Gemma sighed, her eyes soft as she watched her man clean out the candy cart like he was daring the diabetes gods to pass judgment. “Yeah, but just think of how hot our babies will be.”
“You guys will have the hottest, most bad-ass babies.”
“One of us has to.”
As she burst into laughter, Lyra’s corset squeezed her ribs like a boa constrictor, reminding her the night was both young and growing long at the same time.
“You guys coming to the after-party at Raven Creek Brewery?” Vee called out, adjusting her muffin in a way that made all the present males study their bootstraps intently.
“Actually”—Lyra hesitated, glancing at Cy—“I made some secret plans for after the carnival.”
“Ooh, mysterious,” Vee said, winking at her suggestively.
“You going to get some of this pirate booty?” Myrtle asked, flicking the laces of Cy’s poet shirt.
“Leave the poor boy alone.” Vee herded her pink taco of a wife toward their truck. “Thank you two again for everything you did for us, darlings. Let’s do a meal soon.” She pressed double air kisses to everyone’s cheeks.
As she walked toward her own car, Lyra felt the weight of her decision pressing down on her.
As much as she enjoyed the festive atmosphere, she couldn’t shake off the earlier phone call with Harrison. All her life, she’d wanted to do something that mattered. Something that could change the world for the better. This job as an environmental lawyer dangled in front of her like a shiny bauble, tempting her with its promise of prestige, position, and a higher purpose. But there was something holding her back—a magnetic pull toward this small town and the handsome, earthy man beside her.
The thought of re-establishing her career was an alluring prospect. It’d been her plan all along…
But, she realized, her heart was rooted here. She felt like she had something special in this town and was just reaching an age where she recognized and appreciated it truly for the first time.
Cy slid into the passenger seat, concern flickering in his gaze. “You look a bit pale. You need an early night?”
Lyra shook her head. She felt a little pale, but often did after such intensely stimulating events. The myriad flashing lights, loud signs, and lingering airborne debris, the mélange of scents, from food trucks to wood smoke, and the consistent cacophony of sounds often washed her skin in a thousand fire ants that were only lured away from her by a calming distraction.
“I want to show you something,” she said, driving them carefully through the overcrowded town and out toward the dark ribbon of road that led to Fort Warden.
Built into a hill that ended abruptly in a sharp cliff, Fort Warden had been conceptualized to protect against America’s greatest Victorian enemies which they could see across their narrow ribbon of the Puget Sound.
The British Canadians.
Once peace had been brokered, the fort was abandoned until the World Wars had prompted the installations of anti-aircraft weapons and maritime surveillance.
Now, almost a century later, the forested hilltop had reclaimed the decrepit concrete bunkers and rusted the bolts where the weapons used to stand. In its place was something of a local playground, somewhere to hike and explore and enjoy the view of the American and Canadian islands from the crest of the cliff.
Lyra parked at the bottom of the hill and retrieved the small cooler she’d packed along with a picnic basket.
“Didn’t take you for the midnight picnic type,” Cy said as he relieved her of the cooler’s heavy burden.
“Yeah, well… Didn’t take you for an MMORPG type, but here we are.” Beneath the vast sky, their laughter danced on the wind as they climbed the gentle hill, mingling with the distant sound of waves lapping against the cliffs below. At the end sat a large concrete platform that jutted out over the cliff. Once a gun mount, it was now like an oversized patio, offering an unparalleled view of the water and beyond.
“I haven’t been out here in years,” Cy said, leaning over the railing to gaze out over the crumbling gun batteries and the nineteenth-century officers’ quarters now used as vacation rentals. “Used to ride our bikes up as a kid to explore. Climb all over the useless weapons and shoot pretend Nazis out of the sky.”
With a grin, Lyra spread out a blanket and began unpacking the contents of the basket. Flameless candles flickered to life, casting a warm glow over the cheese, fruit, and wine. She’d learned her lesson about open flames, considering her prediction of the fortune-teller’s candle mishap, and their recent war with a forest fire.
