Page 16 of Freeing Lark

She fell into an easy conversation with her aunt and Cammie about her studio, the Liberty Bell installation, and the upcoming community festival. The man, she noticed, had taken a seat at a nearby table and took the muffin out of the bag. Lark watched in amazement as a single bite from him had devoured nearly half of the muffin. She wondered what else that mouth could devour. Her cheeks burned with a sudden warmth at her errant thoughts.

“Are you okay, sweetheart? You look flushed,” Marilyn asked, drawing all eyes to her, which did nothing to lessen the redness.

“I-I’m fine,” she rushed to assure her aunt, her voice sounding unconvincing even to her own ears.

“You’re working too hard,” Marilyn scolded. “You need to take better care of yourself.” She continued to reassure the only family member she’d ever had who truly cared about her well-being. But even while she talked, Lark could feel him. His eyes were on her. She tried not to notice, but failed.

Every time she glanced his way, she found him watching her with that same intense, unreadable expression. It shouldn’t have bothered her. Instead, it made something strange happen beneath her skin. A tingling sensation began somewhere between her shoulder blades and spread outward. Her arms prickled. Her stomach fluttered. Her pulse skipped. If she didn’t know better, she’d think she was coming down with something like her aunt had worried about.

She’d met the man only twice. The first time, she’d made him go out of his way to rescue her from the middle of the creek. The second time, she’d poured espresso down his front. Clearly, her attraction to him was evidence of a defective brain.

She focused on Marilyn, continuing to explain her remaining plans for the Liberty Bell. “And then I think I’ll use copper pipes around the base.”

Marilyn nodded enthusiastically. “That would be lovely.”

Lark kept talking. But she remained acutely aware of the man sitting only a few feet away. He didn’t say much. She was coming to learn he never did. The man probably rationed words. She wondered what he did for a living. His eyes seemed to miss nothing. She felt as though he could look straight into the deepest, most secretive places inside her, reading everything she’d never told another human being. And in that very moment, an unexpected feeling arose within her, a deep desire for him to do just that.

She mentally told herself to stop. She had enough problems without adding a mysterious, grumpy, ridiculously handsome man to the list. Yet despite her inner scolding, she couldn’t stop those annoying tingles that erupted through her body every time their eyes met. The feelings continued to take her by surprise. Her feelings for the man she’d dated for two years were significantly less intense than what she felt now… for a stranger.

Thankfully, she’d discovered that relationship had been nothing but a political merger between two powerhouse families. Her parents had used her as a pawn, and she’d let it go on for far too long. She had already brought their relationship to an end before she’d been coerced to walk down the aisle.

Her sister now had that honor. A twenty-year age gap meant nothing in that social circle. The Meadows had offered up their eighteen-year-old daughter as compensation for the disgrace their older daughter had caused. For them, walking away from a loveless relationship was considered a mark of great shame.

Whatever. She was over it. She had moved on and would now prioritize living her own life.

Eventually, the man stood and threw his trash away. As if it were routine, Cammie slid a to-go cup across the counter to him as he passed. “See ya later,” she said as he grabbed it.

“Thanks.” He nodded to Marilyn, then to her as he made his way to the door. Lark watched him go, a dawning realization hitting her. She didn’t know his name.

She hurried after him. “Wait!”

He stopped. She nearly walked into him again. She stopped herself just in time.

“I’m beginning to think I should keep a six-foot safety zone around you,” he grumbled holding his cup farther away from his body to avoid another dousing.

“Probably,” she conceded. One corner of his mouth twitched and she smiled. “But before you go...” He looked at her. “I just realized I don’t know your name.”

He was quiet for a moment. “Hoot.”

Lark blinked. “Hoot?”

“Yup.”

She waited. He didn’t elaborate. “That’s your given name?”

“Yup,” he repeated.

Before Lark could ask the obvious question, Marilyn called from behind the counter, “Cormac Shibley. You know very well that is not your given name.” Hoot closed his eyes briefly. Marilyn marched toward them and poked a finger into his chest. “Don’t be impolite.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose, his jaw hardening with something unspoken. “Miz Lenzer...”

“You know perfectly well you should give the poor girl your real name. At least extend my niece that courtesy.”

Lark looked between them. “Your name is Cormac?”

He nodded. Then, with a sigh and a clear reluctance, he finally muttered, “Cormac Shibley.”

Lark repeated it silently. Cormac Shibley. It suited him somehow. But Hoot... That was far more interesting. “So how did you get the nickname?”