Page 15 of Striking the Match (Redwood Bay Fire #3)

Rather than tie myself up in knots, I get out of my car just as the delivery guy drives off, leaving Cassius and I alone again.

“Have you been here before?” he asks excitedly.

I realize that as well as the food bag, he’s also dangling a four pack of those Japanese lemonade bottles with the fun pop-tops from his fingers.

I quickly take those from him so he doesn’t drop them or our dinner.

“Oh, careful of your hand,” he says in concern.

I can’t believe he remembered that. Yeah, I guess I’m still wearing a bandage, but most guys wouldn’t notice that.

“Thanks. I’m okay, though, I promise. Uh, no, I don’t think I’ve been here before,” I say, looking around, not entirely sure where ‘here’ is.

I’ve probably driven down this road before, but I can’t say I’ve ever noticed anything remarkable about it.

There’s a nice view out over the ocean, I guess, but the same could be said for several miles in either direction.

Cassius bounces on his toes like a big kid. “Ahh, excellent. This way!”

When he turns and leads me to the edge of the small cliffside, I see he’s wearing a backpack that he didn’t have on when we were on the walkway. It makes me wonder if he was prepared to come here after that part of our day, or if he just happened to have it in his car with him, whatever it is.

To my surprise, there’s a pathway I couldn’t see from the road that leads us down to the rocky shore.

I doubt this is a popular tourist spot as there are so many large boulders firmly planted in the sand it doesn’t leave much room to sunbathe or play Frisbee.

But Cassius doesn’t lead us toward the waves lapping peacefully a couple of dozen feet away.

Instead, he clings to the rockface, picking his way between the stones until he cries out in delight.

“It’s still here!” he says triumphantly.

For a second, I lose sight of him. But after a few more steps I see there’s an opening in the rockface. It’s big enough for Cassius to stand up in as he turns around with glee, and several feet deep. Almost like nature made us our own private awning.

“My buddies and I used to call this place ‘Pirate’s Cove,’” he tells me.

“I don’t even know who found it first. Maybe someone’s older brother or sister.

But we used to ride our bikes here all the time to hang out.

I’m sure other people used it as well, but we never saw anyone else around. It was like our own private clubhouse!”

He’s carefully placed the food bag down and now he’s pulling a blanket out of his backpack, shaking it out and laying it on the dry sand. There’s a lump in my throat and I’m not sure I trust myself to speak. He’s showing me his secret childhood hang out?

At what point do I give in and admit this is a date?

I know he hasn’t said it’s a date and I really don’t want to make any assumptions. But he specifically checked that I wasn’t seeing anyone earlier, and this all feels incredibly intimate and special.

“I…” My voice cracks and he glances up at me, raising his eyebrows. I clear my throat and manage to give him a shaky smile. “Cassius, this is so cool. Thank you for sharing it with me.”

Even just saying his name feels outrageous and daring of me. Like I’m claiming something of his as my own. But his dazzling smile in response lets me know I haven’t overstepped in any way. In fact, he pats the smoothed-out blanket, inviting me to come sit beside him.

“Naw, Teddy. Thank you for sharing my first proper day re-exploring Redwood Bay with me. Annoying fan aside, it’s been a blast. And getting to show someone new this piece of my past is such a thrill!”

I hum in agreement, not trusting myself to speak without my voice betraying me again. He could have brought anyone in the whole world down here to his Pirate’s Cove. Yet he chose me.

A sudden sharp breeze cuts through the little alcove, making me shiver involuntarily. Damn it. I always forget how the temperature can drop in the evening depending on what part of the beach you’re at.

But apparently Cassius remembered.

“Oh, here. Take this.”

He pauses where he’d been removing the various food cartons and placing them in front of us along with some chopsticks and napkins. From the same backpack where he got the blanket, he pulls out a couple of hoodies. Official Seahawk hoodies, one of which he thrusts at me with a grin.

It takes a moment to convince my fingers to curl around the soft material and take it from him. “I can wear this?” I ask uncertainly.

He shrugs like it’s no big deal. “I have a bunch of them. You can keep it if you like?”

My heart is racing as my brain tries to cling to logic. He probably has several boxes of these that he gives out all the time.

Then why does it smell just like him when I slip it over my head?

Did Cassius Garda really just give me a boyfriend hoodie?

This is no longer a fanfic nor a YA novel. It’s straight up fantasy and I, for one, can’t wait to turn the next page.