“What’s yours?”
I stare at her for a moment before answering. “Sebastian.”
“Nice to meet you, Sebastian. And welcome to town.”
“Thanks.” I clear my throat. “It’s getting late.”
Her smile is like the sun, filling me with a warmth I didn’t ask for, yet for some reason, don’t mind.
That might be a problem.
"Okay, Sebastian, no-last-name. Thanks again for... everything."
I turn away, my grin wide. This woman is something else.
She puts her hand on the door.
“Locke.”
She turns her head. “What?”
“Sebastian Locke.”
She beams at me like the July sun in the city. “Well, thank you for… everything.” Her voice lowers as she repeats, “Sebastian Locke.”
Something about the way she says my name does strange things to my chest.
“You’re welcome, Ivy Hart.”
That seems to please her. She slides from the car, hersteps energetic as she bounds up the stairs to her front porch.
She pauses at the front door before turning and giving me one more enthusiastic wave, then disappears inside.
Once the door closes behind her, I shift into gear and head for home.
Ivy Hart.
That name certainly fits the mini hurricane of a woman who filled my car with non-stop chatter.
The silence is deafening now that she’s gone.
Funny. It didn’t bother me before.
2
IVY
I’m standing in front of the window, clutching the hem of a sweatshirt that doesn’t belong to me, staring at the empty space where Sebastian’s car sat moments ago.
The house settles around me, quiet and familiar. But my heart still races like I’m standing in the middle of the bar parking lot, gravel under my boots and his hands at my waist.
I inhale, the familiar smell of my house mixing with him. His sweatshirt hangs off me, heavy and warm, the sleeves too long, the fabric soft from wear. It smells like clean soap and something darker underneath—woodsy, masculine, grounding. The kind of scent that makes you feel safe without knowing why.
He never asked for it back. I didn’t think to offer.
That realization sends a flutter through my chest that has no business being there.
I press my lips together, smiling despite myself, before stepping away from the window.
