Page 85 of The Sebastian Guarantee
Needing to face him and seal this conversation with a kiss, she shifted her hips, and he pulled out. She started to turn in his arms but forgot her ankles were bound by wet denim and soaked lace. She pitched backward. “Oh no!”
Sebastian held her hips, working to keep her upright, but he was in the same pants-at-the-ankles predicament as she was. She reached for the shelf, grasping for anything solid, and snagged the cloth and whatever that big leather-covered thing was. Sadly, neither item kept her from crashing into Sebastian. They hit the floor like two half-naked ankle-bound sacks of potatoes.
“Pheebs, are you hurt?”
She sat up. “I’m okay.”
“I’ll try to find a light switch,” he said, coming to his feet.
She pulled off her jeans and panties and stood in her wet blouse. Her eyes had adjusted to the dark, and she watched Sebastian pull up his pants, then feel around the confines of the room. With a click, a single bulb hanging from above lit the room in a dim glow. She squinted and took in the space. They were in a mudroom or a small storage area with a door across from the one they’d entered. The shelves were lined with vases and candles. She eyed a clear canister piled high with what appeared to be pink silk-flower rose petals.
“Here,” Sebastian said, digging in his pack. He removed his cell and the slim pad he’d kept with him, then pulled out a Sebastian-sized hoodie and handed it to her.
“So prepared,” she said, peeling off her shirt and bra. “I’m impressed.”
“Always have a change of clothing with you in your waterproof pack when you’re in the mountains,” he said, draping their wet clothes on a folding chair in the corner. “That’s a little nugget I picked up, thanks to my girl, Phoebe, who dragged my pasty British arse to summer camp, year after year.”
My girl, Phoebe. Her heart fluttered.
She put on the dry hoodie, which looked more like a puffy dress on her, and inhaled Sebastian’s scent from the heather-gray fabric. She sighed, then stared at the heap of wet clothing dripping onto the floor. “I don’t think I’ve ever been that wet,” she remarked, twisting her damp hair into a bun.
Sebastian removed his jeans, pulled on a pair of sweats and a T-shirt, then sauntered over, looking all casual-sexy. A wicked grin spread across his face. “Is that a challenge?”
Hello, Swoonville!
“Damn right, it is,” she replied, taking a step toward him, but she stubbed her toe on a giant leather-bound book. She pitched forward, and again, Sebastian caught her. She eyed the items strewn about the floor. “We should tidy up.”
“What is this place anyway? A storage facility?” he asked, picking up the book.
She gathered the quilt into her arms and eyed the others lining the shelves. “Why do you think these are here?”
Sebastian ran his hand over the material. “Blankets are good to have around to wrap exposed outdoor pipes to keep them from freezing. I thought I saw a gravel road past the clearing. We might be near a trailhead. The one in your hands has bits of flowers on it. They might leave this place open so people can stop in and borrow a blanket for a picnic. Mae and her friends probably donated them.”
She nodded as she studied the squares on the quilt in her hands and raised an eyebrow. She was no quilting expert, but this wasn’t your typical-looking quilt with geometric designs or flowers made from shapes. On this quilt, each square contained a different stitched item. A computer, a microscope, mathematics symbols, beakers, gears, planets, and a square at the bottom right corner with six words sewn into the material. She stared at them, not sure she could believe her eyes.
Made by STEM in Stratlin, Colorado.
“I get that STEM stands for science, technology, engineering, and math, but where’s Stratlin, Colorado?” Sebastian asked and touched the letters.
“It’s a small town on the way to the Eastern Plains, an hour or so from Denver.”
“Have you been there?”
“No.” She looked up at him. “I only know of it because my mom grew up there. She lived with her grandmother.”
“Isn’t that something,” Sebastian replied, absentmindedly turning the leather book over in his hands.
She caught a glimpse of the cover and gasped. “Hold the book upright for me.”
“What is it?”
“Glenn Pines Chapel wedding registry,” she said, reading the title embossed in faded gold letters on the deep mahogany-colored cover.
“Pheebs, didn’t your uncle say that your parents got married at the Glenn Pines Chapel?”
“He did.”
“That’s what this place must be—a chapel. Let’s see if we can get in.” Sebastian slung his pack over his shoulder, tucked the book under his arm, and went to the interior door. He turned the knob. The latch clicked with an upbeat squeak, like the knob was grateful to be of use. “After you,” he said, holding the door.
