Hard Checked (Ice Kings #4) - Stacey Lynn Page 0,41

to get there. Scary as heck, but once I was there, I stayed for hours, sitting, thinking, seeing the land from such a high viewpoint. I didn’t want to leave.”

“You like the quiet.” He turns and keeps walking.

It sounds like a reprimand. “You don’t?”

I have to hurry up to him, his strides are so long. Someone should tell him he has a pretty quick triggered attitude problem. He can go from smiling and kind to that prickly attitude I accused him of earlier faster than I can snap my fingers.

It’s not going to be me, though.

Even irritated, I like his company too much.

Which is a red flag I should be heeding.

Unfortunately, I’ve always enjoyed the thrill of danger.

“I think I’m too active to be quiet,” he says finally, brows furrowed like maybe this upsets him.

I shouldn’t spend so much time trying to figure him out.

“But on your days off, what do you usually do? Don’t you ever rest? Chill out and watch a movie?”

“A movie is your idea of quiet?” He peers down at me and I swear behind that beard a corner of his lips has kicked up.

“Well no, I’m a book girl. But we all have our ways of self-care. If movies and video games are your thing, I’m not one to judge.”

“Music.” His nose wrinkles like he hates it. “Madison always had music on. Even when we were out of town or out to dinner, she’d set the house system so it was always playing music when we walked in. I don’t know if my house was ever quiet.”

“And now you hate it.” It doesn’t take a genius to figure this out.

It also confirms my suspicions.

Something heavy and ugly settles in my throat. I swallow it down right as he takes a fist and jabs it into my gut.

“I hate the quiet. It’s a good thing you’re around to keep my thoughts off it.”

I stop. He keeps walking and I’m still standing there, blinking stupidly at his retreating figure.

My hands curl into fists when in slow-motion, he slows and drops his head.

It took him that long to figure out why that would hurt so much.

It’s not intentional. Not even surprising, but damn… that hurts.

He has the actual power to hurt me, and if I’d driven myself, I’d walk away right now.

“I think that came out incredibly wrong,” Sebastian says.

At least he’s self-aware. I peer down at my phone. My finger is shaking. I have the Uber app. There is no reason to put myself in this position.

Besides, he’s married for cripe’s sake.

“Gigi.” His voice is soft. Carries a hint of pain in it. I’m still staring at my phone and I can see the tip of his running shoes in my vision. At his feet, Bruiser is sitting patiently, little white fluffy tail whipping back and forth on the cement. “I didn’t mean it like that. I should have said thank you for being willing to spend the day with me. Even though we barely know each other, I like being with you.”

He likes being with me isn’t the same as liking me.

“Yeah, well, I’m a barrel of laughs.”

Since I’m still being stupid, and staring at my phone, I jolt when a warm hand curls around my shoulder and his thumb slides to my neck.

And oh dear sweet gracious. That thumb on my neck sends a spark straight to my lower stomach.

He’s touching me. I’m not sure he’s done that. Ever.

“Can you look at me? Please?”

There’s a slight pressure on my shoulder, where he’s curling his hand over it, fingertips in the back, and that thumb… it grazes my pulse and makes it skitter out of control.

Looking at him now would be a mistake.

He’ll see too much.

“Sebastian.”

“Please.”

And oh my. The man should never beg. It makes knees tremble. Hearts leap. The hairs at the back of my neck stand at attention.

I do as he requests and then blink when I meet his face.

Because he’s looking at me with so much the same look I’m currently experiencing I’m not sure I know what to do with this.

“Sebastian—”

“I’m sorry. Again. Someday, I swear I’ll get to a place where I’m not constantly putting my foot in my mouth around you. I like being with you. It confuses me, and I like it. Can we… can we leave it that for now?”

At our feet, Bruiser barks and I grin down at the dog who’s distracted by a fly. He yanks on the leash and bounds off for it, jerking back