Flock (The Ravenhood)

“Hey, afternoon delight!” An amused chuckle sounds up behind me as I make my way through the parking lot, “Wait up!”

Frown in place, I turn to see Sean sauntering toward me between a row of cars. Hands on my hips, I stare him down as he approaches, and then am forced to look up at him when he gets closer due to our difference in height.

In the sparkling light of day, he’s far more impressive than I gave him original credit for, and I’m careful to control my gawk. His looks are—paralyzing—spiked two-toned dirty blond and platinum hair, sun-drenched skin, insane build, and hazel eyes with undecided dominance, a strong nose with a slight bump along the ridge ending with just the right flare. And his mouth, his mouth is enough in and of itself to keep my thirsty eyes busy. His tongue darts out, sliding against the ring tucked in the corner, showcasing his full bottom lip. His gaze glitters over me, along with a building smirk as I take my fill and then drift to his pronounced Adam’s apple, broad shoulders, and lower, and lower. A large tattoo covers the majority of his left arm, the dark black tip of a wing and feathers starting just above his elbow and looks like it ends at the base of his neck.

“That’s not my name.”

“Sorry,” a flash of teeth, “couldn’t resist.”

“Try harder.”

His chuckle sends a flutter across my skin. “Will do. That was pretty brave back there.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not looking forward to the job. It’s a condition of my sentence.”

He frowns. “Sentence?”

“Because of my last name. I’m being forced to work here for a year, so I’m deserving of it, I guess.” I shrug as if my bitterness hasn’t said too much on my behalf.

“Hmm, you aren’t alone. I’m not thrilled about being back here either.” He’s older, I’m guessing somewhere in his mid-twenties, his presence impossible to ignore due to his insanely good looks and his scent is just as tempting—cedar and something else I can’t put my finger on. The vibe he’s throwing off is irresistible. The more he stands in the golden sun, the more he seems to absorb. It’s alarming just how much looking at him is unnerving me. But I don’t berate myself for it because his gaze is equally shameless. This morning, though my mood was grim, I’d dressed up, and I’m glad I made an effort as I face off with Sean in a knee-length halter sundress, black with small white polka dots. I’d left my hair down, and it lays straightened over my shoulders. I’d spent extra time on my lashes and heavily glossed my lips, which I lick under his stare, and his eyes drop.

“Cecelia, right?”

I nod.

“So, what are you doing now?”

“Why?”

He runs a hand through his messy spiked mane. “You’re new in town, right? My roommates and I have a spot a few miles away. We’re having a few friends over today, and I thought you might want to come.”

“Yeah, I’m going to pass.”

He tilts his head, amused by my fast answer. “Why?”

“Because I don’t know you.”

“That’s the point of the invite.” His mouth might be moving with pleasantries, but his eyes are devouring me in a way I’m not entirely comfortable with.

“That crack I made back there might have given you the wrong impression about me.”

“I’m making no assumptions, swear,” he holds up his palms, where a heavily inked ace on his right wrist poses as a permanent top card up his sleeve.

Clever.

He winks, and it feels like a kiss on the cheek. All I have to look forward to at home is a swim and a book. And I have a feeling I’ll be doing that for most of the summer. I look him over carefully and hold out my hand.

“Let me see your driver’s license.”

Thick blond brow raised, he pulls out his wallet and hands me his license. I take the offered card and eye it and him as a cigarette appears, dangling between his lips before he strikes a black titanium Zippo, and I flick my attention back to his ID.

“You are aware you’re the last smoker, right?”

“Someone’s got to keep up my old man’s bad habits,” he says on an exhale.

“Alfred Sean Roberts, twenty-five, and a Virgo.” I take a picture of his license and shoot off a text to Christy.

If I wind up dead, this dude did it.

The response bubbles start immediately, and I know she’s going insane. The picture does little credit to the real thing. His looks are jarring and seem out of place here.

“Sending out a safety net?” he asks, reading my move.

“Exactly,” I hand him back his license. “If I don’t make it home, you’re suspect number one.”

He seems to mull over my statement. “Do you party?”

“In what sense?”

“In every sense.”

“Not really, no.”

He looks at me with such…intensity, new hesitation in his posture, as if weighing whether or not to take back his invitation. Despite being slightly offended, I decide to make it easy on him. “I guess that’s a dealbreaker? Don’t worry about it, see you around—”

“It’s not that, just…” He cups the back of his neck. “Jesus, I’m fucking this up good. It’s just the guys, they’ll, well, they’re—”

“I’ve been to plenty of parties, Sean. I’m no Little Red Riding Hood.”

This earns me a grin before he stomps out his cigarette with a greased-stained tan boot. “Good, because we don’t want to let the wolf get a whiff.”

“Where exactly are you taking me?”

He flashes a blinding smile that feels like a bat to the chest.

“I told you, my spot.”

I should be wary, especially because of his hesitation, but I’m intrigued more than anything. “I’ll follow you.”

We pull up to a two-story house, the only one in a tiny cul-de-sac. The rest of the houses on the street spaced just far enough apart to allow a fair amount of privacy. It’s a far cry from the inch between houses neighborhood I grew up in. I get out of my Camry and meet Sean at his car, an old classic that I struggled to keep up with on the ride over. It’s fire engine red, looks newly polished and seems to suit him perfectly. The rest of the parking spots in the circle and lining the street are cars of the same nature, mostly classics, shiny metal with powerful engines—either that or huge trucks that require some effort to climb in.

“This is beautiful,” I tell him as he gets out and closes the door, eyes hidden due to a pair of vintage Vegas Elvis style shades. Sunglasses that would look ridiculous on anyone else but work effortlessly on him. Darting my eyes away, I run my fingers along the glossed exterior of the car.

“What is it?”

“’69 Nova, SS.”

“I love it.”

A flash of teeth. “Me too, come on.”

I glance up the driveway, and it’s easy to see the tan-sided house is suited for bachelors. It’s nothing special, the lawn manicured enough to make it clean, but lacking a personal touch. There’s a group of people gathered on the porch, a few of their heads already turned our way.

A twinge of social anxiety keeps me idle as Sean walks a few steps ahead of me to follow. When he senses I’m not at his side, he turns back, and I latch my wrist to the arm draped loosely at my side. “Who all lives here?”

“Me and two others, they’re like my brothers, and both will bite.”

“That’s reassuring.”

He pushes his shades up to his crown and eyes me skeptically. “Maybe we should go somewhere else.”

“Should we?”

Sean takes the few strides towards me, his voice level when he speaks.

“Look, I’ll admit back at the plant I thought you were a bit more bulldog than pup.”

I give him a dead stare.

He points to my expression, a new grin in place. “See, now that, that mean mug right there, is what will keep you alive in this house. Think you can keep that up while you’re here?”

“I don’t understand. Aren’t these your friends?”

He lifts a steady hand between us before pushing some hair away from my shoulder. I don’t shy away from his touch. “If you had flinched, I’d take you somewhere else, you’ve got this. Just don’t take any shit like you didn’t from me back at work and you’ll be fine.”

He takes my hand and we walk through the crowd on the porch, stopping short of the front door. “Who’s this?” The voice comes from the porch swing, out of the mouth of a guy draped around a girl who looks at me with the same interest. I can practically see the ‘we don’t do well with strangers around here’ in both their expressions.

“She just started at the plant. Cecelia, this is James, and that’s his girl Heather,” he jerks his chin to the others crowded by the porch fence who scrutinize me while sipping their beers, “Russell, Peter, Jeremy, Tyler.” They all give me the lift of their chins while a strange sensation rolls up my spine, and it’s not a bad one. If anything, it feels a little like déjà vu. Tyler holds my gaze the longest after our introduction, and I can’t help but notice the wing tip beneath the cuff of his T-shirt when he lifts his beer. Our eyes stay locked until I’m led into the house.

Despite my hesitation in coming, I feel more comfortable here than I have after one night at my father’s, and I use that to fuel each step. Once inside, I scan the spotless house. The walls look freshly painted, and the furniture new. The living room is empty of people, save the loveseat where a couple talks animatedly, the guy giving me a once-over before giving Sean a nod while he guides me through a sliding glass door. It’s when I step through onto the patio that my hackles rise, and the hairs on the back of my neck stand at attention. I feel like I’m on display, which isn’t far from the truth because the back yard is bustling with people, smoke billowing from a nearby barbecue, and out of the mouths of a few next to the fence bordering the yard. To our left is a long patio table full of people taking shots and playing cards. The gathering seems to be just a few heads shy of a full-on party. Sean leads me to the middle of the yard where rows of coolers sit fully stocked with beer next to a picnic bench.

“Nice place.”

“Thanks, we’re working on it. Beer?”

“I…” I pause, intent on trying to fit in despite standing out like an inexperienced sore thumb. The last time I drank, it didn’t end well. “Yeah, I’ll have one.”

He twists the lid on a hard cider. “I think this is chick beer.” I take a sip and then another, liking the taste. Sean’s lips lift in a sultry smile. “Like that?”

“It’s pretty good.”

“I guess I should’ve asked how old you are.”

“Old enough to vote, but not to legally drink.”

He hangs his head.

“Not that young. I’ll be nineteen in a few weeks.”

“Shit,” he eyes me. “I thought I was going to be trouble for you.”

I double tap my brows. “I’m tricky like that.”

“You are trouble,” he says, his eyes searching mine. “I can tell.”

“I’m harmless.”

“No, you’re more,” he shakes his head slowly. “A lot more.” He takes a beer from the cooler and pops off the top, his eyes never leaving me. “Hungry?”

“Starving,” I say honestly, my stomach rumbling from the smell permeating the yard.

“Should be ready soon.” One of the guys playing cards on the porch waves him over, his curious eyes trained on me. “You okay here for a second?”

“I’m good.”

“Be right back.” He stalks off, and I zero in on his ass. A feminine laugh sounds behind me and I turn as she approaches. She’s beautiful, with long blonde hair, baby blue eyes, and in my opinion, the perfect physique. Petite with soft curves. My last growth spurt puts me hovering above her at 5’9. I got my blue eyes and reddish-brown hair from my father, and work with the slightly disproportionate build I inherited from my mom. What I lack in my border B cup breasts I make up with a double D butt.

She grins. “Can’t blame you, you could bounce a quarter off that ass.”

“Was I that obvious?”

“A little,” she plucks a cider from the cooler, twists off the top and takes a sip. “But we all stare at that ass. I’m Layla.”

“Cecelia.”

“So, how do you know Sean?”

“I don’t. I met him at orientation today.”

She wrinkles her nose. “You work at the plant?”

“First shift starts tomorrow. Just moved here yesterday.”

“I only worked there for a few years after high school, and I couldn’t stand it. Most everyone here works there or has at some point. The owner is an asshole, though. He lives in a castle somewhere around here.” She turns to me. “I get the townies having that job, but why would you take a job there?”

“I’m the daughter of the asshole.”

She tilts her head, her clear blue eyes widening slightly before darting past me in the direction Sean left. “No shit?”

“Yeah, and trust me, I’m dreading it.”

“I already like you,” she takes another sip of her cider and glances around the yard. “Same shit, different day.”

“They do this often?”

“Oh, yeah—” she flutters her fingers as if the subject isn’t worth entertaining. “So where did you move from?”

“Peachtree City, just outside of Atlanta.”

“Why would you want to move here?”

I shrug. “Single parents, and they passed the baton this year.”

“Sucks.”

“It does.”

She looks past me, lifting her chin to the same guy who summoned Sean from the porch, this time, his eyes only for her. He’s got nothing on Sean looks-wise, but there’s something about him that commands attention, especially hers. She gives him a knowing grin and turns to me. “Can’t leave your man alone too long, even with his friends. Well, a man that can’t do without you. And my man doesn’t like my attention divided.” She rolls her eyes as his jaw ticks with impatience. “Do you have a boyfriend back home?”

“No.”

Her eyes are still on his as they pass a look that displays ownership of the other on both parts before she turns to me.

“Well, hopefully you find something in Triple that keeps you entertained.”

“Maybe.” I lift my bottle to sip my cider and find it empty. She plucks us each a new one from the cooler, passing one to me. “I better get over there. Join us if you want.”

“Thanks, I’m going to wait here for Sean. Good meeting you.”

“I’ll see you around, Cecelia.”

She saunters off, retreating onto the lap of her man and wraps herself around him as he plays his hand. He subtly, but possessively caresses her thigh with his thumb as she whispers in his ear. I dart my eyes away, a little envious. It’s been a while since I had a steady boyfriend, and I sometimes miss the ritual.

The more I look around, the more I recognize these people are family. I seem to be the only outsider here, which I assume is the reason for the seconds long glances that are coming at me from all sides. Not the type to mingle, I find myself missing Sean, who’s been gone for what seems like forever as I stand in the middle of the yard, a fish out of water. Music filters down from an open window on the second floor of the house as I walk over to the fence, overlooking a partial mountain view. I might have moved from the suburbs of Atlanta to the mountains in Bumfuck, Nowhere, but even I can appreciate the spectacular scenery.

Do you party?

No. Though I attended a few in high school, I always opted to leave early. I’m fully aware of the protocol and behavior necessary to blend in at these types of gatherings, but I’ve never really become comfortable in the way Christy is, who’s never met a stranger. Christy is always the buffer for me, and I find myself wishing she was here. I’ve never been the one to dance on a table after taking too many shots or give in to a random hookup. My record is squeaky in that sense. I’ve always been more of an introvert, an onlooker, bearing witness to the goings-on while too afraid of making any mistakes and losing face.

In hindsight, I wished I’d made a few worthy missteps and been a little bit braver. But weeks ago, I crossed that stage for my diploma unmemorable, the ‘what’s her name?’ girl in the background of a few yearbook pictures. It dawns on me now, here amongst strangers, I can be anyone. Aside from Sean’s easy read on me during our first encounter, no one knows me. Christy’s right in a lot of ways about my role in my relationship with my mom. She’s been begging me for years to loosen up. Maybe it’s not too late to make those notable blunders, make myself more of an ‘in the moment’ gal, and less of a wallflower.

More of a wishful thinker than executioner, I perch against the fence and am halfway through my second cider, lost in the view of the evergreen drenched mountains when I sense I’m not alone.

“Sean desert you already?” A voice rumbles from next to me. I turn to see Tyler standing just feet away, his arms crossed over the edge of the fence, his expression and brown eyes warm.

“Yeah,” I wave my bottle. “No complaints, I’m a fan of whomever’s playing DJ, and I’ve got a drink and a view. Tyler, right?”

His answering grin reveals a dimple. “Right.”

“Do you work at the plant, too?”

“Nope, I work at a garage for now, just got back from Greensboro, had a job out there the last four years of my reserves.”

“Really?”

He runs his hands through his half-inch hair. “Really.”

“What branch?”

“Marines.”

“Did you like it?”

He smirks. “Not enough to make a career of it. Four years in, another four years on standby, but I guess I consider it time well spent.”

“Welcome back, Marine. Thank you for your service.”

“Most welcome.”

We clink bottles.

“Do you own one of those cars outside?”

“Yeah, the ’66 C20 is mine.”

I draw my brows, and he grins.

“The neon green pickup with the black top.” Pride oozes from his lips as I take him in. He’s a bit smaller in stature than Sean, but just as shredded physically. He’s got the sweetheart eyes, a rich brown surrounded by black, naturally curled lashes. Clearly, there’s no shortage of hot men in the mountains. Christy will be thrilled. Though entertaining, and highly appealing, I’m just not sure any of them are my type. But with each sip of cider, I feel like I’m forming an opinion. And so far, I haven’t met a bicep I haven’t liked. That thought—combined with the cider—makes me giggle.

“What were you thinking, just then?” Tyler’s lips tug up at the corners, amping his smile to the next level.

“Just… Yesterday I lived somewhere else, and now I’m in a stranger’s yard.”

“Crazy where a day can take you, huh?”

“Exactly.”

“That’s nothing unusual around here, trust me,” he says, inching closer. His predacious gaze sends a shiver along my neck.

“What do you mean?”

“Stick around long enough, you’ll see for yourself.”

“Well, I don’t hate it so far,” I drawl, knowing the cider is starting to speak on my behalf.

“Good to know,” he crowds me a little against the fence. It’s not threatening, but enough to feel some of the summer sun radiating off his skin.

“Back off, jar-dick, she just got here,” Sean says, nudging his way between us and looking at me with a lifted brow. “Where’s that mean mug?”

I lift my cider to indicate where it all went wrong, feeling warm all over as he takes it from me. “Let’s get you fed.”

Tyler grins at me over Sean’s obstructive shoulder. “See you around, Cecelia.”

“Hope so,” I tilt my head past Sean, so he can see my answering smile.

“Knew you were trouble,” Sean drawls out, shaking his head before leading me by the hand over to a fully stocked picnic bench table full of mixed barbecue and endless sides. Sean and I eat together and it’s hard not to avoid the looks we get huddled in our little bubble, isolated from the rest of the party.

“Ignore them,” he says through a mouthful. “And,” he points to me, playfully ordering, “mean mug.”

“Is there a reason we aren’t eating with everyone else?”

Lazy hazel sweeps me. “How about I want to keep you to myself for now?”

“That so?” I take a bite to hide my smile, unsure of the signals I want to send. Only inches apart when we started eating, our knees touch now as we lean toward each other. As we feast, we slide into easy conversation and he reveals he moved to Triple Falls when he was five, and met the friends he’s since taken up residence with. Sean, Tyler, and their other roommate moved into the house a week ago, which I assume is some of the reason for this gathering, along with Tyler’s homecoming. Sean’s worked between the plant and a garage since he graduated high school. And his family owns a restaurant on Main Street, which is a Triple Falls community staple. Though Sean speaks like he’s an open book, his eyes hold so much mystery as if his words oppose his thoughts.

A full plate of barbecue later, my limbs grow heavy from every look we exchange. Unable to fully play immune, I steal glances at him when he becomes distracted by the late arrivals pouring into the back yard. The party is getting more aggressive as the sun threatens to set, and conversations grow louder. Another half-drained cider in hand, I stand in the middle of the yard by his side, the backs of our hands brushing as Sean chats with Tyler and Jeremy.

Rattling with anticipation, I’m only half-listening to their conversation, too swept up in the ‘what if’ these stolen touches could lead to, and the circulating warmth from the booze. It’s when Sean purposely slides a finger along the side of my hand that I feel that prickle again. It’s a distinct and unshakable feeling that I’m being watched.

Newly paranoid, where I was just at ease, I look in every direction for the source, searching through the crowds until my blue eyes collide with slicing silver-grey…but it’s not just the eyes that bind me where I stand—it’s the predatory look inside them.

Sean’s words drift through my cloudy head. “We don’t want to let the wolf get a whiff.”

I have a feeling it’s said wolf who’s caught my scent and is eyeing me from feet away.

The party bustles around him as we stare off and he comes into full view. It’s the third time I’ve been hit today with attraction, and I stand awestruck by just how much I’m feeling it.

I still can’t make it past his intense stare as he considers me like he’s contemplating his next move.

And in the next second, he’s coming right for me.

Holy Shit.

I lift my chin, as he treads through the yard, a dark haze shrouded in masculine beauty. Just past a prominent widow’s peak, lays long waves of rich-looking, thick onyx hair, equally dark brows above silver eyes filled with auspicious intent. Between high-cut cheekbones is a sleek nose and…his mouth.

Looking fresh off the runway, he’s dressed in black from his T-shirt to his lace-free army boots, the tongue in them falling limp, much like mine, the closer he gets.

My body spikes with adrenaline, and I fight myself not to look away but lift my chin higher to spite the unspoken threat dancing in his eyes. But no mean mug I could ever muster could save me from the dominance in this man’s swagger and the chill that emanates from his stare.

“Shit,” I hear Sean mutter when he finally reaches us. “I told you I have her, bro.”

Soul stealing eyes break from mine, freeing me from their hold before he speaks, his voice deep and full of authority. “She’s a fucking baby, your boss’s daughter, and she’s done drinking. Here anyway.” He turns to me. “Time to go.”

I frown. “Don’t be a pooper.”

I go over the words in my head. Yep. That’s what I said.

I swear I see his lips twitch before he barks at Sean. “She’s leaving.”

“Chill, man. Cecelia, this is Dominic.”

“Dominic,” I say, utterly mystified.

Jesus, Cecelia, tweens have more game.

“My brother made an error in judgment bringing you here. You need to leave.”

“You’re brothers?” They couldn’t be more different in appearance.

“Not exactly,” Sean corrects from my left.

“You’re really going to kick me out?” I ask Dominic, lingering in the jolt I felt in those seconds. Maybe it’s the stout cider, but my palms are still tingling from the exchange.

“Are you, or are you not, Roman Horner’s eighteen–year-old daughter?” His lips curl around the words in disgust, a tinge of an accent lacing each one. Our audience grows, and I audibly gulp as the air around us becomes thick with tension.

“I’m sure I’m not the first underage girl to drink at one of your parties,” I snap, feeling the eyes of everyone on me. He could have taken Sean aside and told him to get rid of me, instead he’s decided to openly embarrass me. “And I turn nineteen in two weeks,” I add with the weakest of arguments.

Dominic’s expression morphs into one of boredom.

“Have I offended you in some way, and anyway, how old are you?” I ask as he gives Sean a withering stare while some unspoken communication passes between them.

“Why?” his gaze cuts back to me. “So you can write it in your butterfly and diamond-studded diary?” I hear the echo of laughter around me and my cheeks heat.

Jesus, Cecelia, stop talking.

“Let her stay, Dom,” Layla speaks up from the patio. “She’s not bothering anyone.”

His eyes scour me from head to foot before he jerks his chin in a silent order.

“Dom, come—” Sean speaks up next to me, and I hold up my hand.

“Whatever, I’ll go,” I glare at Dominic, shifting my weight from one foot to the other, thoroughly humiliated. This pleases him, and I see my cowardly reflection mirrored in his cold steel eyes.

He turns to walk off, and I stop him, my hand on his forearm while I down the rest of my cider before dropping the empty bottle at his feet.

“Oops,” I say in my best bottled blonde imitation.

Gritting his teeth, like my touch is blistering, his eyes slowly drift up to mine, his dark brows slashed in a ‘what the fuck?’ expression.

“You know, you could say it was nice to meet me. You are kicking me out of your party. It’s the polite thing to do.”

“Never been accused of being polite.”

“It’s not an accusation,” I snap, as Sean curses and starts to drag me off. “It’s common decency, arsehole.” Clearly, cider gives me a drunken British pirate accent when I’ve had too much of it, or I’ve been watching too much BBC. I giggle with the rush of a buzz as Sean lifts me into a fireman’s hold.

“And what a pretty arsehole you are,” I drawl.

Laughter comes from all sides as Dominic’s full lips twitch in something close to a smile, and I struggle against Sean to let me down. “I am trouble, you know,” I smart, as a catcall sounds from my left. “Just ask your brother.” Sean’s chest bounces against my thigh as I’m carted through the living room and out the front door.

Once he’s carried me to the driveway, he sets me on my feet, an apologetic smile already in place as he glances over his shoulder.

“What the hell is his problem?”

“I warned you,” Sean says with a grin. “He’s mostly bite, no warning bark.”

“He didn’t have to embarrass me.”

“He gets off on it, I have to admit, that went a lot better than I thought it would.”

“I thought it went pretty shitty.” I slur, realizing just how hard the cider has hit me.

He frowns, studying me carefully. “I’m going to drive you home, okay? I’ll pick you up to get your car in the morning.”

“Fine,” I huff as he opens the door for me. Sitting in his seat, I cross my arms, furious. “I feel like I just got put in timeout.” I turn to him. “I’m not a confrontational person, like at all. Sorry, I don’t know what came over me.”

“Dominic could bring the claws out of a nun.”

“You don’t say.”

Sean chuckles, shutting his heavy door before looking over to me with sympathy.

I sink in my seat. “It’s my dad, isn’t it?”

He nods. “He employs nearly half the people at that party.”

“It’s not like he deals with the day-to-day at the plant.”

“He’s got a long reach.”

“Yeah, well, I make it a point not to tell him a damn thing. You can trust me. And I am an adult.”

He taps the lip I hadn’t realized I’d pushed out. “You’re fucking adorable. And beautiful. But let’s be honest, a little too young and good of a girl to be hanging out with us assholes.”

“I’ve been to plenty of parties, I just never really partake. And I like you assholes. Just not that arsehole.”

“Sure about that?”

“Not a fan.” That’s not entirely true, I appreciated the hell out of him until he’d opened his mouth.

“No?”

I slowly shake my head as he brushes the hair away from my shoulder. Sean’s effect on me is potent, and I feel the draw to lean into his touch as he gazes at me. I know my guard is down because of the booze, but I can’t blame it all on the alcohol. He’s disarming, and the attraction is definitely there.

“Then you’re stuck with me,” he says, his voice dropping as he cups my jaw and brushes his thumb over the small divot in my chin.

“Fine with me.” When he slowly withdraws his hand, I feel the loss of his warmth and busy myself buckling my seatbelt, my head spinning from the turn of events. “Thank you for today. I had fun.”

He turns the engine over, and the feel of the vibration against my bare legs sparks a fire inside me. Sean reads my excitement.

“Like that?”

“Hell yes.” I bob my head. “Never been in one of these.”

He studies me, the air in the car growing dense.

“Tell me, what were you just thinking?” I ask, stealing the earlier question from Tyler, my voice a little hoarse from the inhalation of all the smoke and this sun god’s rapt attention.

“Some other time.”

He tears out of the driveway as I giggle in my seat—the ride home as exhilarating as the last few hours. Windows down, the wind whips my hair around my face as Sean speeds down the deserted roads that lead to my father’s palace. Heavy bass thuds throughout the cabin, old southern rock wafting out of the speakers. I stick my hand out my window and air surf, my chest bubbling with possibilities as I steal a glance at Sean and see a promising gleam in his eyes while a subtle smile graces his lips.

It’s the start of a great summer.