Page 20 of Stardusted

“Oh.” I eyed him. He was still looking ahead, but a smile played over his lips. They were nice lips. I stared at them because he was distracted and why not?

“It’s a fascinating field,” he said, with another quick look my way.

I tore my gaze from his mouth when his small smile deepened, revealing that rogue dimple in his right cheek that shouldn’t be wielded around small children.

He turned his head back toward the road. “Do you have an area of specialty?”

My brain seemed to catch on then, and I realized he was…asking me about myself.

Was this real life? Had I died back on that road and this was heaven?

My cheeks heated again, and not the ones cozied into his seat warmer. “Not yet. I’ve been leaning toward cultural anthropology. I don’t know. I find studying different cultures interesting. It’s like…looking into a different world.”

We reached the edge of town. Stadium lights from the high school’s football field bordered on blinding after the country dark. The SUV rolled to a halt at a stop sign.

Sky was quiet for a beat. I glanced over, half-expecting him to look horrified with boredom. But instead he tilted his head a little and said, “Itisinteresting.”

Then we were moving again, and he was driving, which was a good thing because I was gawking at him.

It was just small talk. Polite chatter. You know, the kind a bartender like him did all the time to keep those tips flowing. This didn’t mean anything. He was only doing me a favor and filling the awkward silence.

His…interestcouldn’t be real. Even if I desperately wanted it to be.

It sobered me. I watched the houses blur past, quiet and draped in the deep night’s shadows. When they got even more familiar, I leaned forward.

“It’s that blue house there on the corner,” I murmured, pointing.

He took his foot off the gas, and we slowed. “Your parents?”

“My what?” I frowned at him.

“Is this your parents’ house?”

“Oh. No.” I smiled a little and gathered my things. “I rent the apartment over the garage.”

“Cool.”

He pulled up beside the small two-story with its overgrown yard. I needed to mow before Bob tried to do it.

Speaking of the cranky old man, the porch light glowed warmly. He must’ve left it on for me. Classic Bob. My little apartment over the garage was dark, waiting.

“Thanks again,” I told Sky, tucking that loose strand of hair behind my ear again as I juggled my purse, apron, and dead phone.

I reached for the handle, pushed the door open, went to step out?—

—and forgot the damn seat belt.

I yelped when it snapped taut and yanked me back into the seat.

To his credit, Sky didn’t laugh. He didn’t say anything, in fact, as he leaned over and pressed the release, freeing me. The belt hissed like a snake as it retracted.

I muttered another thank you, avoided eye contact, and shifted to climb free before I could do anything else to embarrass myself.

Apparently, the options were endless tonight.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked, the quiet question stopping me before I could escape.

Bracing myself, I turned to face him. In the streetlight’s soft glow, his eyes sparkled the deepest, jeweled blue. He rested a wrist casually on the steering wheel and hit me with a direct, unblinking look.