Page 36 of Hexed
Being fully honest with him isn’t a luxury I can afford.
“And you’re being real with me?” I retort, because come on. He barely knows me, and yet here he is spouting off words like we’re supposed to have a layer of trust and reciprocity.
He gives me a questioning look. “Why would you think I’m not?”
“It’s just a little suspect that you’re dragging me, a stranger, out here to show you around town when you have a perfectly healthy fiancée who was born and raised here.”
He side-eyes me, a brief flash of what looks like guilt coasting through his gaze before he smirks. “Have youmetyour cousin?”
I laugh because he’s not wrong. Aria isn’t really the “take you out on the town and show you the sights for your benefit” kind of gal. Not unless there’s a photo-op at the end.
“Unfortunately,” I murmur.
He stops walking, and I wait for him to reprimand me for talking down about his precious Aria, the same way everyone always does, but he doesn’t.
“You know I had never even heard about you until I got here?” he says instead. “Don’t you think that’s weird?”
“Not really.”
Why would Aria want to talk about the person whoactuallysaved his life?
He continues to stare at me, and it’s still unnerving, but I also kind of like the way it feels. His attention is all-consuming.
My teeth sink into my lower lip. “There’s not much to tell.”
He shakes his head. “I don’t believe that.”
“Okay,” I acquiesce. “Being here? It reminds me of my past.”
“Your past,” he repeats.
My heart stutters. “Of my momma. She used to bring me down here. Rarely. She wasn’t…well, she just wasn’t up to it much. But once a year, on my birthday, she’d wake me up early and make it a big production. We’d get shaved ice right there.” I point to Morgan’s Ice Shack. “And then she’d walk with me down the line of shops and tell me I could pick my favorite thing to buy.”
“Just one?” Enzo jokes.
“Things were hard. We didn’t—she didn’t—take money from the family, so yeah…just one.” I swallow over the sudden knot forming in my throat. “It was my favorite day of the year, though.”
“Because it was your birthday?”
“Because for that one day, my momma loved me out loud.”
His jaw clenches, but then he nods, a blinding smile taking over his face. “Loving you out loud. I like that.”
“Yeah, well…” I shift on my feet, my cuticle tearing from how badly I’m picking at it.
He slips his hands into his pockets and glances around, and then he places his palm on the small of my back and steers us toward a pop-up stand right next to the Sea Wheel, the two-hundred-foot Ferris wheel that defines the Atlantic Cove Boardwalk. I let him prod me forward, too stunned by this entire interaction to argue.
We walk up to the stand, pieces of jewelry hanging from the end caps and shirts that say things like “In My Mermaid Era” overflowing off the sides. He jerks his head toward the display. “Pick something.”
“What?” I laugh.
He steps toward me until he’s so close, he has to physically look down to peer into my eyes. “You heard me. Pick something.”
I frown at him, confused as to why he’s doing this and why he seems to care, but oddly touched by the gesture. “Why?”
“Because I said so.”
“Does that normally work for you? The whole ‘because I said so’ schtick?”
