Page 66 of Slow Burn
“You know about the bonfire tonight?” he asked.
She swung her head back to him. “Natasha mentioned it. Why?”
He rubbed the back of his neck, stomach dropping like he was on a roller coaster. “Thought maybe you’d want to come.”
Her brows lifted. “You thought I’d want to come?”
“Yeah. With me. Maybe.”
Her head tilted, smile threatening. “Like a date?”
He rocked back like she’d landed a right hook and buried his hands in his pockets. Let his eyes land on the building across the street. “Or just… somethin’ to do besides interrogating locals.” He squinted against the sun. “Let folks see you here. Get used to it. You might even enjoy yourself.”
“Cole.”
“What?”
“Is it a date?”
His breath locked, and he forced his eyes to hers. “Doesn’t have to be.”
A wrinkle cut between her brows.
Mercy, he was tense. “I’ll be a gentleman. Hands to myself and everything.” He held them up as proof. “Unless you want somethin’ different, the agreement stands.”
“I want a lot of things,” she said softly, like he wasn’t meant to hear. Then, firmer: “How about I come, and we see how it goes?”
Relief trickled in slow. Not the answer he wanted, but not a no either. “Alright.”
Her lips twitched. “Alright.”
“Starts at eight.”
She let him have the smile then. “I’ll meet you here.”
He stepped back, shoving down his own grin as she drove off. But his lungs felt empty, like she’d taken his damn air with her.
twenty-five
“Desire is a bonfire that burns with greater fury, asking for more fuel.” - Sri Sathya Sai Baba
The sky had faded to pale blue, stars just beginning to glimmer like the sparkles from a princess costume she’d worn once. Jocelyn remembered her mama spending hours bent over the sewing machine, specks of glitter dusting her cheeks like metallic freckles.
The air still carried the day’s heat, trapped like an oven long since shut off, heavy and stifling. But it wasn’t the weather that made Jocelyn falter—it was the sight of townsfolk and tourists laughing together in the square. For a moment, regret at agreeing to come twisted inside her. She could’ve been at Uncle Joe’s house, buried in notes, chasing answers.
She had plenty to dig into, especially after that newspaper clipping she’d gotten. And that was reason enough to turn right back around. She hadn’t told Cole about it. The opportunity had been there earlier, but something had stopped her. Maybe it was his nerves about asking her to the bonfire. Or the way her heart had reacted to seeing him.
But she hadn’t figured out where the newspaper clipping was from, even though she’d spent hours the day before searching. And because of it, the investigation continued to feel unfinished, making her itch for progress.
That almost made her turn back to the car. Almost. Then Cole appeared from amid the crowd, moving with purpose, his gaze locked on her. He crossed the street without hesitation, and the heat under her skin surged. Every rational part of her screamed that this shouldn’t be a date. But the way the bonfire’s reflection burned in his eyes made her pulse stutter, and—oh, crap—a much larger, and less wise part of her, wanted this to be a date.
He stopped in front of her, closer than comfort but careful not to touch. Relief and disappointment warred in her veins. Her fingers twitched with the urge to clutch his shirt and pull him near. She shifted back instead.
“Thought about makin’ you chase me through the crowd,” he said, mischief in his gaze, “but figured you’d just turn around and leave.”
The teasing eased her nerves a little. “Smart man. I would’ve.”
He gave her a half-smile. “Ready?”
