I couldn’t say anything.

“Anyway, she wouldn’t return my calls, she wouldn’t see me—she needed some time. But she was out of town and down the coast within days. We finally talked a week later, when she apologized. She kept going on and on about how it wasn’t working for her, and she didn’t want to stay in Monterey her whole life. I couldn’t even hear anything she was saying.”

“Lucas,” I whispered.

He shook his head. “No, it’s okay. Really, it’s okay. It’s funny, because now, I look back and see it. We broke up all the time, even back in high school. And she lied. A lot. About all kinds of things. Big lies, tiny lies, always with the lying. But, Jesus, who puts on a dress when she knows she’s not getting married?”

“Maybe she was still planning on going through with it. Maybe it hit her all at once.”

He shrugged. “Maybe it doesn’t matter anymore.”

“Maybe she wants you back.”

“She’s not moving back to Monterey.” Lucas went toward the bar, where there was still a blender full of mai tais.

“She’s not?” I asked, examining my toes, trying very hard to keep my voice level.

“I told her to move back if she really wanted to. This will always be her hometown. She’s got good friends here, and all her family. She’ll always have a home here, and a circle waiting to welcome her back.” He paused to sip his cocktail. “But I told her that if she moved back home for me, that it would be a very bad idea.”

“Oh?” I squeaked, my voice rising through the pergola rafters and out to the stars.

“Yeah. Bad, bad, bad idea,” he repeated. I finally chanced a look up at him. His blue eyes burned with an emotion I couldn’t name. “It doesn’t matter if she wants me back, because the thing is . . . I don’t want her. I haven’t for a while now.”

“Oh,” I breathed.

“But like I said, it did mess with my head a little.” Then he let loose one of those lethal grins.

“That’s understandable,” I admitted, taking another swig of my cocktail, and just like that, the bad tension left the room. The tingly tension was still very much here, though.

“Speaking of messing with my head, how strong did you make these?” he asked, taking another sip and raising an eyebrow.

“I just dumped stuff in; didn’t bother measuring.”

I lifted my drink in salute to the new song on the turntable, “Witchcraft.” “Mmm, I love this song,” I said with a sigh. The song made me brave. That, and the mai tais. Curious about something, I stood up. “So she messed with your head. Did she mess with anything else?” Wow, head rush.

“Chloe?” he asked, a curious expression on his face. “Are you asking me if I messed around with my ex tonight?”

“I don’t know. Yes. No. Shut up. Did you? Don’t tell me. Well?”

I had an entire conversation by myself while trying to walk across the patio for another drink. Turns out, I didn’t need another. Because standing up had led me to the conclusion that I was a little tipsy. Listing a bit to the left, I looked around for Lucas, who was standing at the other end of the bar, his tiki tumbler frozen in midair.

“Oh, forget it, you cute veterinarian, with your bedroom eyes and your sexy freckles and your hot . . . kryptonite hair.” The words spewed out, words that would come back to haunt me. But right now, in the moonlight, with that damn Sinatra playing, I had no recourse but to move forward. And I literally did, moving right on over toward Lucas and taking one more sip of mai tai before setting it down on the bar.

“Since I only understood about half of what you just said, I’ll just go ahead and tell you no.”

“No?” I asked, tripping over my own foot, and thanking goodness for a bar stool that I could grab on to.

“No,” he repeated, a slow grin creeping across his face. “Cute veterinarian?”

“Beside the point,” I waved my hand in impatience. “So, nothing happened?”

He shook his head. “Bedroom eyes?”

“Shush,” I said, closing my eyes. When I opened them, he stood before me.

“I brought you something,” he whispered, and from behind his back, he produced two sparklers. “I promised you fireworks, didn’t I?”

“You did.” I smiled. “Light ’em up.”

Striking a match against the bar, he lit both sparklers, then handed me one. And as we swooped and swirled and wrote our names in the sky, sparks flew. I began to hum along to the song, adding a word or two here and there, and before I knew it, Lucas had spun me into his arms, dipping me old school.

“What are you doing?” I laughed breathlessly, horizontal to the floor, our sparklers raining down on our suddenly intertwined limbs.

“I couldn’t help it. Starry night. Sparklers. Incredibly strong cocktails,” he murmured, our faces so very close together. “It’s witchcraft.”

“It’s not just the witchcraft, Lucas,” I whispered, sliding my hands up his arms, so strong and holding me so very tightly. Lightly, so lightly, I brushed my fingertips along his neck, his skin still warm from our day in the sun. His nose bumped against mine, and I could feel his little puff of breath. Twisting my fingers into his silky hair, I blinked slowly, dreamily. And then he kissed me.

Soft. So soft. And sweet as can be. His lips brushed across mine just once, and I was hooked. Ruined for all other lips. He kissed me a second time, and my eyes fluttered open, wanting to see him. Surrounded by fairy lights, I felt suspended in midair. I was all toe curl and finger twirl. Which tucked deeper into his hair, as my tongue swept out to taste him. Mmm. Coconut rum and ginger vet. I let out the tiniest of sighs and felt his fingers dig into my hips, holding me impossibly tighter. I arched my back, just enough to get closer to him, and a sizzle ran through me as his tongue met my own.