Then he chuckles. It’s low, brief, and completely unfair. I like it. A lot.
“That’s okay,” he says. “Don’t worry about it.”
Relief floods me. “Sorry for forgetting. And—thanks again. For Friday night.”
He nods, clearly uncomfortable. “No problem.”
We stand there, the silence stretching between us.
I fidget, my eyes lingering on his collarbone. His jaw. The way the porch light catches the sharp planes of his face.
Late twenties? Early thirties? My gaze roams over him. Definitely not from Hollow Creek. Too… solid. Too confident. Toomanly.
“Well,” he says, scratching his jawline, his bicep rippling. “I need to get in the shower.”
“Oh! Yes. Sorry. I should—finish my walk.” I gesture vaguely behind me.
He nods. “Bye, Ivy.”
I smile. “Bye, Sebastian.”
I turn and head down the driveway, my heart still racing.
“Ivy.”
I stop, a slow smile spreading across my face.
He said my name.
Slowly, I turn around, trying to appear composed. “Yes?”
“How did you know where I lived?”
I shrug.
I’ve been stalking you on the internet.
“Small town.”
His gaze lingers on me for a moment, like he’s trying to decide whether I’m joking.
He doesn’t look convinced.
The door closes, and I walk away, hugging my arms across my chest.
Yup.
He definitely thinks I’m a stalker.
Which is ridiculous.
Because if I were stalking him… I wouldn’t knock on the door.
4
SEBASTIAN
Ivy Hart’s face keeps rolling through my mind.
