She leaned back, crossed her arms over her chest. “Ah. You’re one of them.”
“One of who, storm cloud?”
Her lips tipped up as if she enjoyed the nickname. “One of those people who think adventure is ordering the soup of the day instead of the reliable favorite. That spontaneity is hitting shuffle on the playlist. Someone who believes living somewhere interesting is the same as experiencing everything that place has to offer.”
“That is”—I wouldnotgive her the satisfaction of reading me like a book—“some very profound armchair psychology. If carrot juice doesn’t work out for you, I’m sure the FBI has an opening on the profiling team. I can ask Agent Price when he tucks me into bed tonight.”
Sunny reached across the table and picked up my beer bottle. She took a long pull. I gripped the armrests to keep myself from leaning in close to study the way her throat bobbed. She set it down and took a moment to look me over. I felt the warm lick of her attention everywhere. “Let yourself live a little. You’re not going to get another chance.”
I stared at the bottle.Fuck it.I knocked it back, draining the contents. “Did you get that pearl of wisdom from your moon worship event?”
Before she could respond, Muffy bounded toward us. “Hey,” she said, slightly out of breath. She pushed her glasses up her nose. “Saffire and Gayathri asked me to hang with them tonight at an art installation in Providence and—”
“Go,” Sunny urged. “Have fun!”
Muffy glanced between us. “I can wait a little while if you need some time to finish up before I take you home.”
Sunny waved her off. “Don’t worry. I’ll figure something out.”
“I’m not leaving you tofigure something outat this hour,” Muffy said.
“I’ll take her home.”
“Beckett saves the day once again,” Muffy said. She turned a stiff smile on Sunny as she passed a woven basket to her. “Isn’t that great? Here. I got your things ready.”
“I cannot believe you orchestrated this,” Sunny said, all trace of our strangely amiable conversation gone as she snatched the basket and slumped back in the chair. “I’d rather walk through haunted woods and hope the full moon falls in my favor than go home with this guy.”
I couldn’t help it. I belted out a laugh so hard I almost knocked my chair over.
Sunny gave me a bland look. “What’s wrong with you?”
“Sounds like a conversation y’all should conduct in private.” Muffy backed away. “Good night! Text me when y’all get home to tell me you haven’t killed each other.”
Sunny grumbled as Muffy disappeared into the night. Again, I found myself noticing that the shadows cast by the café nearly consumed two sides of Naked Provisions in complete darkness. “You really need to invest in better exterior lighting.”
She followed my gaze. “You might be right but that’s not a conversation I can have with you tonight.”
I pushed to my feet and held up a hand. “I’m going inside to lock up. Don’t get any ideas about the woods.”
Not waiting for her to respond, I headed in to the restaurant to grab my laptop and turn off the last of the lights. When I returned to the deck, she was right where I’d left her. It was a small miracle.
“Come on, storm cloud. I don’t have all night.”
Sunny stared up at me. Eventually, she said, “I’m only agreeing to this because there are no on-demand car services in this area and Meara picked me up this morning so I don’t have my bike.”
“Like I’d let you ride a bike home at this hour.”
She arched a brow. “You don’t have any say in whether I ride a bike in the middle of the night or not.”
“Yeah, that comes as a real fucking shock.” I motioned for her to stand. She didn’t move a muscle. “As I’ve mentioned before, I have no problem picking you up so unless you want me tossing you in the back seat of my SUV, I suggest you get moving.”
She considered this for an eternity, her gaze skimming over the inky surface of the cove as she drummed her fingers on the armrest. Then, without so much as a glance in my direction, she hooked the basket in the crook of her arm and strolled toward the parking lot.
I studied the sky, muttering to myself, “She is nothing short of impossible.”
“Did you just call me short?”
“No,” I said, following after her. “But even if I did, it wouldn’t be inaccurate.”
