Fisherman-vibes guy talks over the live music. I nod, but I don’t hear a word through my pounding pulse. Because across the room, Flint Sparks is a storm about to break through the entire harbour.
I excuse myself and slip off the stool. “Be right back,” I tell Captain Cod and head for the restroom.
Fairy lights blur as the vodka kicks in. I bang into the wall in the narrow hallway as I wobble on my feet, stale beer catching in my nose. Inside the restroom, the smell of lemon cleaner overpowers the stale beer from the hall, the lighting brighter in here, but flickering as if the bulb’s about to blow.
I’m halfway through reapplying lip gloss when his reflection appears behind me in the mirror.
Flint leans against the wall, arms folded, blocking the way out.
My pulse skitters. “Chief,” I say, as breezy as I can manage. “You lost?”
“Is that your boyfriend?” His voice is low. Controlled. Dangerous.
“What? No.” I laugh, but it comes out breathless.
“Mason said you had one.”
I meet his eyes in the mirror, swipe another layer of gloss just to give my hands something to do. “I lied.”
His gaze drops to my mouth. “Was that little show back there for my benefit?”
I turn to face him, leaning back against the sink. “You had your chance, remember?”
He takes a step closer. The room closes in on me, the air growing thin.
“You think this is funny? You’re eighteen, drinking in a bar, flirting with men twice your age, strutting around like you own the damn place. You’re gonna get yourself in trouble.”
“By having a conversation over a drink?” I squish my brows together.
“You think a man like him is talking to you because he wants to get to know your personality?”
My shoulders curl inwards as my chest hollows.
“The only thing he’s interested in is the colour of your panties.”
“Well, at least someone is.” I shove my lip gloss back in my purse, flaring my nostrils, determined not to let him see the swell behind my eyes. Of course I know the guy’s only interested in one thing, nobody actually wants to date me. Even Mason dumped me because he was embarrassed of me.
“I won’t stand by and watch you throw yourself at some random guy. Or worse, let someone take advantage of you while you’re drunk.”
I roll my eyes, waving my hand as if to dismiss him. “Chill out. You’re not my dad.”
“No.” He grabs my wrist. “But the sheriff’s a personal friend of mine.”
“What’re you gonna do?” I smirk. “Get me arrested for three shots of vodka? Oooh, I’m so dangerous.”
His hand shoots out, fingers tangling in my hair, tilting my chin up until I meet his eyes. “You have no idea,” he growls, “how dangerous you are.”
My stomach flips. My heart forgets how to beat. “Then maybe,” I whisper, “you should stay away from me.”
He releases me as if my skin burns him. “Go home, Sera.”
“Not likely. I’m having too much fun.” I give him my best fake smile and push past him, brushing his chest on purpose. “You don’t get to tell me what to do. You’re not my dad or my boyfriend.”
The music’s louder now. I slide back onto my stool beside Boaty McBeard and order another shot just to prove a point.
Flint’s stare sears into my back, making my skin prickle with heat
“Everything okay?” the bearded man asks, palm grazing my thigh.
