Page 63 of His Heart

“I can wait.”

I finished up the last few things I needed to do while Sebastian wandered through the store. Being alone with him like this left me feeling off-balance. Conflicted. Even when he was hidden behind tall shelves, I could sense him there. It was frightening to admit how much I liked it. How the sight of him picking up books and flipping through their pages—waiting for me—made my breath quicken and my skin prickle.

“Finished,” I said.

He shelved the book he’d been looking at and smiled.

I looked away quickly so he wouldn’t see the warmth creeping across my cheeks. “I’ll just grab my stuff.”

I went into the back and slid my notebook into my handbag. Grabbed my coat. I walked out front and Sebastian held my coat while I slipped my arms into the sleeves. He was close enough that I caught a hint of his scent. He always smelled fresh, like clean cotton, with a spicy undertone that wasn’t the product of any cologne. It was just him. My body responded to that smell in ways that made me enormously uncomfortable.

But god, he smelled good.

After I turned off the lights, we went outside and I locked the door behind us. I tucked my hands in my coat pockets against the chill in the air. The sun had set, leaving the streets to fade in the dimness of twilight. We walked in silence for a while. Slow. Taking our time, as if we both wanted to draw this out for as long as possible.

Finally, Sebastian broke the silence. “How’s work going?”

“It was quiet today, but weekends are busy,” I said. “It’s a good job.”

“Any problems with the house?” he asked.

“No, the house is great,” I said.

“Seems like Iowa’s treating you pretty well,” he said.

“Yeah, I like it here.”

He paused for a moment and our pace slowed even more. “Do you?”

I wondered what he was getting at. “Yeah, I do. Why?”

“Just making sure.”

“Are you afraid I’ll skip town and disappear on you?” I nudged his arm with my elbow.

“Kind of,” he said. I’d meant it as a joke, but his tone was serious. “Yeah, I guess I do worry about that.”

“I wouldn’t do that to you,” I said, my voice quiet.

“Have you told the Harpers you left Phoenix?” he asked.

A flash of anger hit me. They weren’t any of his business. “Why are you asking me about them?”

“I want to know,” he said. “Did you tell them?”

“I don’t know why you care.”

He stopped and turned to face me. “Because they care about you. And I want to know if you just walked out on them.”

“I’ve been here for months, and now you’re worried about this?” I asked.

“Stop avoiding the question,” he said.

“Yes, I did. Jesus. I told them I moved, right after I got hired at the bookstore. I texted Mary with my new number.”

He held my eyes. I wanted to look away, but when he looked at me like that, I was powerless to resist.

“Okay. Good.”

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