Page 18 of Undertow

She doesn’t return it, choosing instead to scan me with a direct challenge.Ask me that for real,her look says.

I’m beginning to see the report on her was right. Depth. She likes depth.

“Sorry.” I shake my head with a shy smile. “That didn’t come out right. It’s… my head’s always going, you know? What makes sense there can sound weird out loud.” I add a self-deprecating laugh. “I should… uh… probably get going anyway.”

I close my book and reach for my wallet, fully aware of her fixated attention.

“Music.”

“Huh?”

“What I scavenge.”

Her smile grows in sync with mine.

I drop back to the seat.

“Yeah? Do you play an instrument?”

She shakes her head. “I collect pieces of songs. You know, that one moment you wait for, the part that gives you chills? The huge explosion into the bridge, or the alternate melody on verse two. The bassline in the chorus or the harmony at the end of a phrase. Those little things that take your breath away.”

Damn.

I do know. Like her, I don’t listen to music—I experience it.

“I’d like to hear some of the things you’ve collected,” I say seriously. Shit, Iamserious. My head rushes with the thought of connecting with someone on that level.

What are you doing?! You can’t. You know you can’t.

But it would be different this time. I’msupposedto do this. I’m supposedto lure her in.

Her. Not yourself. Which one of you is on the hook right now?

“And I’d like to read some of what you’ve collected,” she says, drawing me back. More forbidden fruit.

My smile is forced this time.

“Maybe.” I look away, picking at a scratch on the table while she continues to stare. “I’ve never shared it with anyone.”

Intrigue pools in her eyes when I look up.

Another truth, Shaw? How much of that are you going to vomit out before it destroys you?

“How long are you staying in Undertow?” she asks.

Relief washes through me at the question I’ve been working toward.

“I don’t know yet.” My hint of a smile sends another silent message.Make me an offer.

She squints at the door, and my stomach buzzes with anticipation of a win as she gathers the nerve to ask something. “I was just about to turn things over to Renee for the evening shift. I usually go for a walk along the beach before dinner. You want to go with me? Maybe tell me the real reason you’re in Undertow?”

Her playful tone doesn’t match the wary look in her eyes. She doesn’t fully trust me. Good. She shouldn’t. But I also catch the flicker of latent sparks, evidence she’s feeling this electric pull as well.

“I mean, I’m pretty busy,” I tease, lifting the book.

Her smile broadens into something genuine. Fucking gorgeous.

“Give me ten minutes.”