Page 180 of Small Town, Big Storm

I frown even as my heart pounds, and he laughs again, rubbing his hand over his jaw, the stubble making a soft scratching noise.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, shifting closer. So near that I can see the golden specks in his deep brown eyes.

“Yeah what?” I ask, skittering back a step.

“That’s going to be a problem.”

“For who?”

He closes the distance between us. “For me and my soft heart.”

I roll my eyes and turn away. “Yeah, right. Go find another woman to torment.”

“What if I told you I didn’t want another woman?”

My lungs spasm. “I wouldn’t believe you.”

Suddenly, he’s right in front of me, his body blocking my path, his warm, rough hands cupping my face in his palms. “Hmm.”

“What?” I ask—or maybe wheeze.

“Why don’t you like me, darlin’?” His eyes are filled with challenge.

One I find I can’t back down from.

“I don’t know you.”

“Don’t you?”

Silence stretches between us for long enough that the rest of the world comes trickling back—the rustle of the wind, the kids playing, conversations from the street fair, music drifting over from the after party at the beach.

And along with that awareness comes reality.

Because I do know Shep.

I know all about men like him.

“That’s the problem,” I mutter. “I do know you.”

Then I’m shoving down the guilt that rears its ugly head when he winces. But I don’t apologize. Instead, I tug free of his hold and spin on my heel, telling myself his feelings aren’t my problem as walk through the parking lot and turn for my house, which is—thankfully—only a few blocks away.

“Hey, Clover?”

I tell myself to keep walking, to not encourage him, to end this before it begins.

But, just like over the last couple of months, I can’t seem to help myself.

My feet slow, I glance back over my shoulder.

“This is going to be fun,” he drawls, those brown eyes seeming to delve into my very soul.

My heart spasms, my pulse picks up, skittering through my veins.

But I don’t answer him.

I just keep walking.

His words chase me anyway.

And so do mine.

“Yeah,” I whisper. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”