Not by the wanting.
But by him seeing me better than I see myself.
CHAPTER 45 – CASPIAN
Baywood is buzzing with Living History Day energy.
Like all our annual events, it started out logical enough before evolving into chaos.
Half the town has dressed up as historical characters, Ann-Sabrina is in fullFae regalia, and the rest of us are here for the pie.
The self-appointed town spokesperson, Harold Bramble, might be the onlyone actually interested in history. I can’t wait for Antonio to vaporize himwith superior knowledge.
I do a double take when Eliot and Juniper stop in front of us.
I’m used to seeing our librarian in imaginative outfits, but today she looksparticularly peculiar. Her blue hair is swept back in a magnificent wave, andshe’s wearing a worn leather jacket and goggles. She gives us a serene smile.
Eliot’s face is bright red, which is no wonder. He’s wearing a wool sweaterand winter boots. For some reason, he has goggles too, but they keep sliding down on his sweaty forehead. A tiny tin mug is hooked on his belt and a coilof rope hangs from one shoulder.
“Most delighted to meet you,” he says to Antonio, shaking his hand.“I was present when Caspian was planning his perfect date with you.”
“We ended up having a wonderful discussion about choking on nuts,”Juniper adds fondly.
“Please note those things weren’t in any way related,” I splutter.
Antonio inspects the Thorne couple with great interest.
“I like the theme,” he says. “It’s giving pioneers and dangerous journeys.”
“There’s a theme?” I ask, astonished.
Pride swells in my chest.Of course Antonio would know immediately what Eliot and Juniper are supposed to be.
God, he’s brilliant.
Juniper beams.
“We’re Shackleton and Earhart!”
“I don’t know them,” I say.
Antonio gives me a tender look that short-circuits my brain even more. Ineed to calm down.
“Did you know your name means highly praiseworthy in Latin?” Eliotasks Antonio, tilting his head.
Antonio nods shyly.
I didn’t know that, but I’m certainly thinking about it now. Blood rushessouth instead of staying in my brain like it should.
I brush his hand.
I want to kiss him so badly right now—tease his lips open, hear those softmoans again.
Antonio looks at me, and I can tell he’s thinking along the same lines.
The appearance of Steve Pell brings a much-needed distraction.
“Fancy seeing you here, Stone,” he says. “I thought history bored you.”
