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“I can’t find my cell. Zayn said he’d call. Shit.”
“You put it in there before you left,” I say, remembering her doing it.
“It must have slid out in the car. Scoot out and I’ll go look.”
“Give me the keys, I’ll go,” I say, holding my hand out. I need all the excuses I can get to do some exercise right now.
I’ve eaten like a pig since landing here, and I’m feeling it. It’s not going to stop me ordering waffles within the hour, though.
“Are you sure?”
“Of course.”
With the keys in hand, I head out to the parking lot, breathing in the fresh ocean air as I go.
I’m going to miss this the second I walk into departures ready to head back to England. There might be a lot I like about London, but there’s also a lot to miss about this place.
I search the car but find nothing.
Assuming it’s just disappeared in Poppy’s giant purse, I swing the door closed and make my way back toward the diner.
I’m almost there when movement out of the corner of my eye startles me a second before a strong pair of arms wraps around me from behind, stopping me from fighting.
“Don’t even think about it, Hellion,” a familiar deep voice rumbles in my ear as I lift my foot from the floor, ready to slam the heel of my boot into his foot.
“Seb?” I breathe, my body immediately relaxing, although I’m not sure why. He’s probably more dangerous to me than some random mugger.
“Who else is stupid enough to jump you in broad daylight?”
“You’ve got a point there,” I mutter as he keeps the length of his body pressed against my back and walks me toward the side wall of the diner.
Releasing his grip on me, he grasps my upper arms and spins me so my back is against the wall.
I keep my head downcast, afraid of what might happen the moment I look into his dark eyes.
“Stella,” he growls, one of his hands risking releasing me so he can tuck his fingers under my chin and force my head up.
If he’s expecting my anger to have weakened in our time apart, he’s about to get a shock.
“What are you doing here?” I spit the second I take in his face.
He looks awful. Well, no. That’s not true at all. He’s still as breathtaking as ever. Asshole. But he looks wrecked. Like he hasn’t slept in a month.
His hair is longer and a total mess, and the scruff on his jaw could almost be classed as a beard, but it’s his eyes that concern me. They’re so dark. Exhausted.
But I refuse to allow any of that to dampen my frustration at him.
“I’ve come to take you home, Princess. You don’t belong here.”
He takes a step closer until there’s only an inch between us.
His scent, his warmth seeps into me, making it hard to hold firm.
“I am where I belong, asshole. With people who actually care about me.”
He swallows harshly, his Adam’s apple bobbing.
“You need to come the fuck home,” he growls.
