Searching for Love - Melissa Foster Page 0,26

to the cute blonde who catered the desserts at the wedding. Anything happening there? If not, I heard she’s got a chocolate shop in Allure. I might have to wander over there for a taste.”

“Her name’s Carly. She and I have a lot of history, so how about you dip your banana in someone else’s chocolate?” Zev had been reliving Carly’s kisses, the sound of her voice, the feel of her hands since he’d left last night. If he had it his way, soon they’d be enjoying a lot more than just kisses, and his would be the only lips doing any tasting.

Noah clapped Zev on the back as they entered the laboratory and said, “Sure thing, dude. Come on. I’ll show you where I put your tools.”

Zev followed him past an impressive array of marine tanks and work areas to two basins in which the two concretions were stored in a caustic solution to keep them from drying out and to protect the artifacts. Marine concretions formed in all shapes and sizes, ranging from minuscule to weighing several tons. These concretions were roughly twelve and eighteen inches in length and weighed about fifteen and thirty pounds. The tools Zev had shipped were set up on a worktable just to the left. “This is perfect. Thanks, man.”

His phone vibrated. He pulled it out of his pocket and saw Carly’s name in a message bubble. When they were younger, Carly would never have sent an X-rated selfie. He didn’t think that had changed, but he’d had to push her buttons and remind her of all the fun they’d had together, because despite her refusal to send dirty selfies, he knew she’d loved getting the request as much as he’d enjoyed getting a rise out of her.

He opened the message, and his body heated up at the cleavage shot she’d sent.

Noah glanced over Zev’s shoulder and whistled. “Damn. Is that from Carly?”

As Zev said, “Yeah, back off,” he recognized a tiny scar that he knew was located just above her left knee and stifled a laugh. That’s my clever girl. Good to see you’re not completely done with me. He’d never forget the night she’d gotten that scar. They’d been in the Pleasant Hill Archaeology Club together throughout middle and high school. The summer between their junior and senior year, they’d gone on a weeklong dig with the club and had snuck out of their tents to hook up by the river. They’d been taking off their clothes when Carly’s foot had gotten caught in her pants. She’d fallen and landed on a rock, slicing into her leg so deep, she’d needed stitches. He’d felt terrible about her getting hurt, but nothing could have stopped them from seeing each other every minute they were able, and the next night, when he’d snuck out to see her, he’d held on to her every second.

“Chicks usually wait weeks before sending body shots,” Noah said, pulling Zev from his thoughts. “You move fast, dude.”

Zev didn’t have much time before he was heading back out to sea, and he wasn’t wasting a second of it tiptoeing around the woman he’d once thought he could get over. Not only was there no getting over Carly Dylan, but he had no fucking idea how he’d leave at the end of the week and go on with his life if she couldn’t open her heart to him again.

He pocketed his phone and said, “Only with her, man. Only with her.”

Chapter Six

BIRDIE HELD THE basket of cereal as Carly locked the shop Monday night. Her stomach had been in knots all day. After she’d sent the text to Zev with the fake cleavage shot, he’d messaged, I’d know those legs anywhere. It had taken only a minute of looking more closely at the picture for her to see the scar and realize her mistake. She’d already texted to thank him for the basket of cereal, to which he’d responded, I dare you to take a bite. He’d added a devil emoji and then texted, Now I’ve got your number with a winking emoji. He was so sneaky!

“Have you heard from Zev since he outed you on the picture?” Birdie asked.

Carly took the basket from her and said, “Nope.”

“That’s a lot of disappointment in one little word. This doesn’t have to be the end of your sexy-texty game. You could text him, you know. Flirting is not a one-way street.”

“There’s a lot more to it, Birdie. I am disappointed, but I’m

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