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With Zoya gone, would Lyon begin looking for female companionship? Someone to warm his bed on New Year’s Eve? Would he kiss her hair the way he’d kissed Kira’s? Would he bring another woman’s body to life the way he had hers?
Her stomach turned and she pushed the thought away, angry at herself for allowing thoughts about Lyon to creep in.
The dreams were one thing. She couldn’t help those.
But she knew how thinking about him ended, had gotten better about shoving thoughts of him down deep where it couldn’t hurt her.
Or not as much anyway.
She blinked and realized she’d arrived on the outskirts of town.
Stupid.
She should have been watching the wet asphalt, paying attention to the occasional car that crawled along the narrow road, especially when she was on the bike.
She passed a row of neatly maintained cottages and cruised onto the town’s main drag. The town was called Eastsound, and although it was small, it had everything she needed. She’d heard it was busy in the summer, but now, in the quiet week between Christmas and the new year, it was devoid of anyone but the locals.
She knew from Walter, the man who was renting her the cottage, that she was an anomaly: someone who wanted to rent on the island during the coldest, quietest months of the year.
Kira braked to a stop in front of a familiar building on the next corner, its blue siding worn from the saltwater that blew in off the water. She used the kickstand to prop the bike on the cobblestones that surrounded the coffee shop and headed for the door.
A bell on the door dinged her arrival, and she stepped inside and inhaled the rich scent of freshly ground coffee beans.
“Hey!” The man behind the counter lifted his head, blue eyes twinkling. He smiled from behind a red-brown beard, then scowled. “Tell me you didn’t ride that bike into town.”
“I didn’t ride that bike into town,” she said.
“You’re lying aren’t you?” he asked.
She smiled. “You told me to lie.”
He shook his head, and she saw real worry in his eyes. It was nice, but caution bells rang in her mind. She’d become friendly with the man named Josh in the weeks she’d been on the island, and she sensed his interest piquing to something beyond friendship.
Which of course, wouldn’t do.
“You shouldn’t ride in this cold,” he said. “There’s black ice everywhere.”
“How else will I get to town?” she asked. “I can’t stay home all winter.”
“So you’re staying then?” His voice held hope she didn’t want to acknowledge. “Through the winter?”
“I don’t know, but however long I stay, I have to be able to get to town.”
“Here or to go?” he asked, referring to her usual coffee order.
“To go,” she said. “I’m going to browse Darvill’s.”
He removed a paper cup from a shelf over the espresso machine and started her coffee. “I’ll give you my number,” he said, turning to face her and pulling out his phone. “I’m happy to give you a ride if you need to get into town.”
“Thank you,” she said. “But I’m enjoying the fresh air. I’ll be careful, I promise.”
Disappointment shaded his eyes, but it was better not to encourage him, not to give him false hope. The man she wanted — the man she loved — was back in Chicago. She couldn’t have him, but she wasn’t foolish enough to try and deny the truth to herself.
Anyone but Lyon would be a placeholder, someone to keep thoughts of him at bay. It wouldn’t be fair to anyone. Besides, she couldn’t stomach the thought of it, couldn’t stand to think of another man’s mouth on hers, another man’s hands on her body.
Not even Josh, with his handsome face and warm smile.
He removed the cup from under the machine, put a lid on it, and placed it on the counter between them. He held up a hand to stop her when she reached into her bag for money.
