“I don’t think so,” she clips but her normal amount of gusto is absent.
“Well it’s there now isn’t it so what do you say we just see how it ages?”
“See how it ages? You are… you are…” she stutters adorably.
“On a date with the most beautiful girl I know,” I say truthfully as I reach out and tuck a lock of her beautiful ink-black hair behind one of her ears. I want to run my hands through her soft strands but I won’t push my luck on the first date. “Let’s eat, you can get mad later if you’re still set on it,” I say grabbing her hand again. “Oh and my deal about fixing the dock still stands. Help me fix it up and you can come enjoy my secret spot any time you want.”
“And I stand by what I said. This property isn’t yours. Your name isn’t on…” she trails off and cuts her eyes right through me. I just smile and point over her shoulder toward the tree I Just carved my name into right along with hers.
“It has both our names on it now,” I say then pop a potato chip in my mouth. “It’s ours just like the iPod.” I barely have time to swallow the chip before Rae launches herself at me across the blanket. She throws half-hearted punches at my chest but I’m laughing too hard to care. She pummels me, thrashing like a banshee. I grip her wrists halting her movement but she’s in my lap still straddling my hips. I lick my lips and look up at her wanting very badly to kiss her. She freezes in my hands, looking at me like I’m a fascinating, previously undiscovered bug that just landed in front of her. “I share the music, my favorite place, I’d share everything with you, Rae,” I say looking into her clear blue eyes. She wrinkles her brows as though she doesn’t understand what I just said. “Why me?”
“Rae, I can’t think of anyone else I’d rather share my world with. Just you,” I explain as best I can. I’m no poet but I hope she gets what I mean. She pins her bottom lip between her teeth and remains in my lap for several more seconds before snapping out of it. She scurries off my lap and back to her side of the picnic blanket where she eats the picnic dinner I packed for her. A turkey sandwich with cheese.
Chapter 10
Raegan
The minute Dad deposits me back into my seat I spot Sylas standing beside Chick the traitor with his eyes locked on me. Still. He’s been staring at me all evening. He strides to my table like he owns the place and I smirk at him with my arms crossed over my chest. I’m not a teen girl anymore and I refuse to play his games.
“Dance?” he asks with his big hand outstretched toward me, his palm up.
“No thanks.” I snag my glass of champagne and drain it. Holding back the grimace I want to make. The champagne isn’t great and if I’m not careful, I’ll be hung over for the second time this trip. The first time was plenty.
“Not a request doll face. Get your fancy ass up and dance with me or I’m humiliating you in front of everyone here. I promised to deliver one hell of a toast you know?” He cocks his head slightly and lifts one brow challengingly. His smug smile firmly in place.
“You won’t,” I whisper dubiously.
“And yet you know I definitely will. Let’s go.” He ticks his fingers with his hand still outstretched.
“You’re an ass,” I grit out.
“Been called worse.”
“I’m not in any mood to dance with you,” I snap hating that he gets under my skin so easily.
“One dance and then I’ll leave you alone. Here’s your opportunity to show everyone that we are civilized with each other. Even if it is a lie,” he suggests. I think back to yesterday in the dressing room when Ellie confessed that Sy was in the wedding party. I’d claimed to be completely fine with Sylas. I grit my teeth.
“Feel like cuttin’ a deal?”
“You and your stupid deals,” I mutter rolling my eyes.
“I need something from you—in a professional capacity,” he clarifies. “And if you still hate me and want nothing to do with me by the time it ends, I’ll give it up. You’ll never have to hear from me or see me again. I’ll leave you alone forever. Just give me a hand first.”
A little hidden part of my heart seizes and crows in pain at the notion of Sylas Broussard leaving me alone forever. He hasn’t let me be since fifth grade. Even in my own little part of the country, miles and miles away from him, he doesn’t leave me alone. He’s always there in my mind in some capacity or another.
“Professional capacity?” I look up at him fully and love how much taller he’s grown since the last time I saw him.
“I need you to stay here for a bit and help me with a charity event I’m hosting.”
“Stay for a bit?” I stutter. “Sylas, I have a life, a job to get back to. I can’t just slack off in Louisiana for however long.”
“It’s for a good cause, Rae and anyway your momma already volunteered you to help me,” he smiles triumphantly. Her needing to speak to me about something makes sense now. I swivel my head, looking for her. When my eyes land on her I scowl and she looks only a touch sheepish as she shrugs then nods while making a shooing motion with her hands.
“I can’t,” I insist.
“You can and you should. It’s for charity and if memory serves me right, the Rae you used to be was very happy to help others. Can’t you be selfless anymore?”
“I’m plenty selfless,” I insist, more than a little incensed that he has implied that I’m not generous.
Self-Loathing harrumphs loudly. Negativity guffaws. Practicality makes a “meh” expression. Well, fuck them. I hate my inner circle and the dumbass grief counselor that encouraged me to invent it.
“Then prove it. Give me one dance to convince you to help me out with this and if I haven’t succeeded by the end of the song, I’ll leave you alone.”
“Fine. Deal,” I say placing my hand in his and if the current of electricity coursing between us is any indication, I’m about to lose my ass on this deal. He swings me outward onto the dance floor with a flourish then yanks me roughly back to him, our bodies kissing for only a moment before I withdraw a few inches. The notes of a song I can’t place begin to dictate our pace and movement and for a moment I am seventeen again and shocked that Sylas is such a good dancer, a gift imparted by his momma and daddy. They are both excellent dancers and even competed in their younger days. They made Sylas and Sylvie and Steven learn to dance from a young age. How had I forgotten? What else have I forced out of my mind?
“Come fishing with me tomorrow,” he declares more than asks.
“I…” I try and fail to think of a single good excuse on the fly. My brain is off kilter in his presence but actually touching him turns the gray goo between my ears into ghost-like vapor. My mind is hopping from present and alert to lost in memories. I feel like the poster girl for Ginkgo Biloba at present. This is what Sylas does to me. My brain switches to dumb-mode. With me stuck on stupid, he presses me closer to him and I allow it. He smells intoxicatingly good, he feels even better. My heart stumbles over itself. My brain is a whirl of thoughts and feelings but my feet, my body, they remember him well and we move together as though we had never stopped. It’s a realization that sets my hands to trembling.