“I might want more than soup.” Maybe. Taking off my clothes sounds like suckage at the moment, but I think being naked must be better. I’m an Avery-sicle complete with chattering teeth.

Sean laughs and holds me tight. He lifts my feet off the ground, spinning me in a circle. When he puts me down, he presses his forehead to mine and says, “I was hoping you’d say that.”

CHAPTER 11

Sean buys a truck load of JONES BEACH crap from the vendor since neither of us brought a change of clothes, and soon we’re walking down the new boardwalk, hand in hand.

“Where are we going? I was promised soup, Ferro. Don’t screw with me. I’m still frozen.”

Sean makes a noise in the back of his throat that sounds an awful lot like humming before he glances over at me. “In good time, short one.”

“Short one? Are you Yoda now? Sensei? Or what? Besides, I prefer vertically challenged…and a cup of soup.” I stomp my flip flops and fold my arms over my chest.

Sean stops and smiles at me, snaking his fingers under the hem of my huge ass sweatshirt as he looks down at me. “You are such a baby when you’re hungry.”

My bottom lip juts out and I’m whining, “I am not,” before I can stop myself. A million excuses fill my head, but I realize that I don’t need to say any of them. Sean’s not complaining. In fact, he seems to like it.

Huh, turns out my mom was wrong. Whining isn’t unattractive. I wish she was here to have that discussion. My thoughts drift a little more before I look up at him again. It’s unreal how many different thoughts can fly through my mind at once. I’m not a logical person. My mind is a vortex, always swirling like a twister, ripping apart everything I’m seeing and hearing and trying to make sense of it. Like the man standing in front of me. This is a softer version of Sean. I’ve seen this edition a few times and I know he won’t stay like this for long. It’s something about this place, or that he’s intentionally unguarded right now. Or maybe it’s because he got wet and I fed him after midnight. I have no idea what made him act like this today, but I wish I saw more of this side of him. Sean seems to keep it locked away, like this side of his personality doesn’t exist. Maybe that’s what he wants people to think, because this part of him is clearly vulnerable. Even I can see that.

He slips his hand under my shirt and says, “What if I told you that I had dinner all arranged, but I forgot the soup?”

The corners of my mouth tip down as I consider his statement. “No soup?”

“I seriously doubt it. As it is, I gave the chef a coronary telling him to make dinner so fast. I almost suggested hamburgers, but I think he would have fired me.” Sean kisses my cheek and then takes my hand, pulling me toward one of the closed buildings. I assume that we’ll walk under the portico and out to the parking lot on the other side, but he stops and pulls the door open for me.

“Are we looting a state park gift shop?” I joke, and look over my shoulder at him. “Ooh! Dibs on the park passes! I’m going to cover myself in Empire Passport stickers!” There’s a huge smile on my face. I probably look like a deranged circus clown.

“What are you talking about?”

“The parking pass thingie that sticks on the car window so you get into the park for free. You don’t get out much, do you?”

Sean holds the door as I stand there, looking up at him. “I seriously wonder about you. It’s like there’s an old lady and a toddler fighting for control of your brain.”

I flick his nose and laugh. “The old lady won tonight, sonny. She’s a little crotchety since she’s learned that she’s not getting any soup!”

Smiling, he says, “Go inside, lunatic.”

“Make me, Mr. Ferro.” I say it lightly, teasingly. I don’t think Sean will do anything. He never does, so when he leans in close, his face a breath from mine, and makes a purring sound in the back of his throat, my jaw drops. As soon as he stops, I want to hear it again. I can’t remember why we’re standing in a doorway or what we were talking about. That sound is rarer than that dimple, which has been begging to be licked all day. Do you know how hard it is NOT to lick Sean Ferro? Add that dimple and I’m lost. But the deep, husky sound that came from Sean, from my Sean—oh my God—kill me now. I could die happy.

“Aroused again, Miss Stanz?”

Pressing my lips together, I stop gaping and punch his side. “Jerk.”

He laughs. “Translation: hells yeah.” I look over my shoulder as we walk over the threshold, and wonder if I know him at all. Since I keep wondering that, I assume that I don’t. When you know a person, they stop surprising you, don’t they? If he does anything else I might die of shock. Ooops. Spoke too soon.

My feet suddenly stop as my mouth falls open. “What did you do?” The little shop has been cleared out so that there’s only a single dining table, complete with drippy candles, and two chairs. White twinkle lights surround the room, hidden in pale flowy fabric that mimics the waves. The sound and scent of the ocean fills my head, but the fireplace next to the table warms the room. The scents of fall, sea water, and crackling wood mix together.

“I thought you might need a nice night.” Sean sounds uncertain, like he isn’t sure if I like it.

Turning slowly, I look up at him. “You did this for me?” He nods. “When?” Other than the altercation with Naked Guy, Sean has been with me all day. I can’t imagine when he had time to arrange it.

Looking at me through those thick, dark lashes, he says, “When we first got here. You ran into the ladies room, and I called my mother’s chef and had him come out along with a few of her designers to make the room a little better. I just had to keep you from freezing to death before now. I didn’t plan on going for a swim.”

“You should have taken off your boots.” I grin at him.

Sean steps toward me, his eyes darkening, and that sexy smile on his lips. He brushes the back of his hand along my cheek before whispering in my ear. “I’m glad I didn’t.” I shiver, but it has nothing to do with being cold.

CHAPTER 12

Course after course is brought out to the table on silver trays. Beautiful Ferro china plates that cost more than my car are placed in front of me with little portions of food. I stare at my main course without moving to pick up a fork. My head is tilted to the side slightly as I look at my plate.

“What’s wrong?” Sean ask. “I thought you liked chicken cordon bleu, and those little carrots.”

My bottom lip quivers and I can see the horror spreading across Sean’s face like spilled paint. I rush to wipe away the look before I ruin all his hard work. I would have never thought he’d do something like this for me, ever. Reaching across the table, I take his hand and pat it. “I do. I mean, I haven’t had a meal like this since my parents died. The only time I eat chicken cordon bleu is at Wendy’s. And I do love little carrots. This is beyond words, Sean.”

My stomach sinks as my old life clashes with the new one. This man is trying so hard to make me smile, but he conjured ghosts with his gift. When I look up at him, I try my best to blind him with a bright smile, but he sees the sadness in my eyes. I’m such a train wreck. Sniffling, I smile and ask, “Who cries over cute little carrots?” My vision blurs as my eyes brim with tears.

Without a word, Sean stands, walks over to my seat, and holds out his hand. The chef comes out, looking rather horrified, and covers the plates with silvery domes before disappearing into the back room again. Seeing Sean’s hard body in a soft sweat suit is so strange. My eyes travel over him once more before I take his hand and apologize.

Sean pulls me into his arms and holds me for a moment. Then music starts playing. It’s a slow song, something that I haven’t heard in a long time. Sean takes my hand as he steps back and pulls me with him. His other hand drops to my waist. Looking down at me, he slides his flip flopped feet across the floor and I can’t help but smile. “You can dance?”

“And you can follow. Who knew?” he teases, as he grips my hand loosely and leads me under his arm so I do a slow spin before coming back to him.

“I can follow.” He laughs. “Okay, that’s a lie. I can follow sometimes, when my mood is right.”

“And the waning moon is hung in the winter sky, just to the right of Jupiter—” Sean makes an oof sound as I elbow him.

“Didn’t your mother teach you manners? You seem to say whatever snide remark is floating through your mind.” The memories of my mother’s voice and wintery nights in our warm little house are no longer strangling me now that I’m in his arms.

How am I supposed to reconcile my past with my present? It seems impossible. People told me that one day the memories won’t hurt so much, but each time one pops up, it feels like I’ve been hit over the head with a shovel. One day I’ll smile and the grief won’t be there. Such thoughts seem like fairy tales. I’m more likely to find an alligator wearing a tutu on the subway, than think of my parents and smile without feeling any pain.

Sean’s voice tightens. “My mother taught me many things. She’s a ruthless, cold woman, and not the person who you’d want me to emulate.”

“Oh.” Before I manage to completely mess up the evening, I add, “Then tell me, if you could pattern yourself after someone, who would it be?”

He smiles and the coldness in his eyes melts. “You.”

I think he’s joking, but he stops dancing and takes both my hands in his. “I’m serious. You’re warm and kind. You don’t hide who you are or what you think. You wear your heart on your sleeve even though it’s been fractured. When you care for someone, you do it wholly and not in part. You don’t hold back. You’re not selfish. Not once have you asked me for anything, even though you need everything. You’re borderline destitute and you haven’t asked me for a dime.”