Page 22

"You shouldn't have, though," I tell him. "We're not— I mean, they're out of season." And had to cost more than usual.

"It's a special occasion," he says. "And they make me think of you."

I get uncomfortable and shift my weight from foot to foot. I don't understand why Sully says the things that he says, but right now, I'm at a loss for words.

"I'll put those in water while you guys get going," Jasmine says, taking the bundle from my hands.

"Thanks, Jas," Sully murmurs. "Shall we?"

He steps back through the screen door and holds it for me, and I clutch the leather coat in my hands like a life preserver as I cross over the threshold into the cold night air.

One of the things I love about living here is that our winters are mild, meaning while the nights get cold, the days warm up nicely. It's sometimes so nice that bikini-beach days are possible in February.

But right now? It's cold, and the breeze bites into me enough that I swing the leather coat around to shrug it on.

Sully's quick to help. He takes the top in his hands and holds it for me. "Thank you."

He sweeps my long hair from beneath the thickness and smooths his hand down the length.

"My pleasure."

I'm barely breathing as we continue on to his truck, where Sully holds the passenger door like a gentleman. In moments, we're off, and the silence fills the cab in uncomfortable waves.

"I know we've known each other for years now," he says gruffly, "but I'd be lying if I said I'm not a little nervous."

"You're nervous?" I find that hard to believe. Sully garners attention wherever he goes. He's a handsome flirt with no shortage of female admirers. "Why? I mean," I quickly counter, "we're just friends having dinner."

I turn my head toward him in time to see his grin flash in the dimness of the cab. "Something funny?" The question emerges in an uneasy tone I don't bother to try to disguise.

"Yeah. You're not going to give me an inch, are you? That's okay, though," he adds quickly. "I like that about you."

Give him an inch? "I don't know what you mean."

"I think you do," he says. "Friend."

He gives me a quick glance and another visual of that breathtaking smile of his.

I tug at the hem of my too-short skirt, glad the thigh-high boots leave only an inch or so of tight-covered skin visible as I sit beside him in the cab. I knew letting Jas dress me was a bad idea. I feel exposed in the short dress and—and ridiculous. This isn't me. At one point in my life, I'd dressed up for dates, but after Thad and I got together, things changed. I changed. This outfit feels too feminine. Too…pretty for what I’ve been through. Because even though it’s perfectly suitable, I feel exposed by its softness.

Sully stretches out a hand and grasps my fingers in his, stilling my tugs.

"You look beautiful, Violet."

"This…really isn't my style at all." Not that I have a style that goes beyond shorts, tees and jeans now. Beach casual all the way. Comfy clothes I wear at home and to work in.

"Well, you're rocking it, sweetheart. I nearly swallowed my tongue when I saw you."

I jerk my gaze off his and stare out the window to get some distance from the warmth in his eyes and the sincerity of his compliment. "Um, where are we going?"

"I made reservations for us at Haven."

Haven is Elias Blackwell's restaurant and one of the nicest in Carolina Cove, perched atop the hotel on a penthouse floor. It's a favorite of locals and tourists alike.

"Our first date is a special occasion." He gives my hand another squeeze before releasing me. "That all right with you? We'll have fun."

Fun, I muse. Can I have fun? Do I know how to have fun? I'm not so sure anymore. Fun seems like a foreign language. I know work, stress, bills, therapy. I also know fear, anger and disbelief that my ex is out of prison early.

But do I know how to be fun? "I've never been, but I've heard good things."