Page 56 of Axel Martin

“You took my shirt,” he added casually.

“I was cold!”

“You took myfavoriteshirt.”

Axel was nearly in tears laughing.

Lark smiled sweetly. “I think it’s romantic.”

“You know what I think?” I said, slamming my glass down. “I think I’m going to eat this lasagna, say thank you, and then go back to my cabin where people don’t look at me like I’m a summer fling that ran off with their wardrobe.”

Frasier raised one brow. “I didn’t say it was just a fling.”

I stood up so fast the chair nearly tipped.

Dinner = disaster.

Later That Night

I couldn’t sleep.Because of the lasagna. The candles. The tension. And the fact that I still owned the stupid shirt. And there was no way in hell he was getting it back.

I found it buried in my bag—black, soft, and worn-in. Imighthave worn it a dozen times since Tunisia. Imighthave kept it on purpose.

Don’t read into it.

I went outside to cool off. That’s when I saw him.

Frasier.

Standing in the dark, holding a lantern, checking the tires on my SUV. He looked around first, like he was trying not to get caught. Then he crouched, unscrewed the valve cap, and started topping off the air in the low back tire.

What. The. Hell.

“Hey!” I whispered, stomping down the gravel.

He jumped, bumping his head on the wheel well. “Ow! What are you doing sneaking up on people like a woodland ninja?”

“What areyoudoing, Fix-It Felix?”

He grumbled and stood up, brushing dust off his hands. “Your tire was low. You’re welcome.”

“Did Iaskfor help?”

“No. But I didn’t feel like watching you get stranded in town and calling me to come rescue you.”

“I wouldn’t call you.”

“You would.”

“I’d rather call a raccoon.”

He stepped close, that frustrating smirk tugging at his mouth again. “You’re angry because I fixed your tire?”

“No, I’m angry because you’re confusing.”

He leaned in just a bit, voice low. “You thinkI’mconfusing?”

And suddenly, I was back in Tunisia.

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