Shaken Not Stirred (Mixology #1)(25)
Author: Alyssa Rose Ivy

Nearly to the top, he leaned down to whisper to me. “Stay back for a minute. I need to set something up.”

“Okay. I’m going to trust that you’re not leading me to my death.”

He laughed. “You can trust me.”

I waited, trying not to let the thought that I was in a hundreds-of-year-old structure late at night freak me out.

“Maddy?” Colin called down. “Can you see well enough to make it up?”

“Sure.” I slowly made my way up the last three steps and my jaw dropped for the second time that night.

“Okay, I’m impressed.” I took in the pillar candles, the rose pedals, and the cushions strategically placed on the floor of the circular room. Then my eyes went to the bottle of champagne waiting on ice. “I thought you said this wasn’t going to be romantic?”

“No. I said I didn’t promise romance…that didn’t mean I wasn’t going to give it to you.” He grinned, clearly happy with my response.

“This is impressive.” The setup blew any previous romantic gesture anyone had done for me out of the water. I couldn’t believe he’d go through so much effort for a date.

“Good. Glad to know I was successful.”

“But isn’t this illegal? I mean, the lighthouse is closed.”

“I work with some people who work here.”

“That’s kind of vague.” Colin didn’t strike me as the rule breaking type, so I assumed there was a good explanation.

“It’s not worth going into the details.”

“You like the whole mysterious vibe, don’t you?”

“Only if it works.”

“It’s kind of sexy.” It was, even if it also went counter to the image I had of Colin. I’d viewed him as a “straight and narrow, vanilla and sort of boring—although extremely attractive”—guy. He was more interesting than I gave him credit for. Certainly more than his IPA preference suggested.

“There is one more thing.” He opened a small cooler I hadn’t noticed on my initial perusal.

“Are those chocolate-covered strawberries?” I didn’t bother to keep the excitement out of my voice.

“I remembered how much you liked them.”

“You are really scoring points tonight.”

“That was the plan.”

“It looks like you have your movie partner.” I took a strawberry, more excited about the decadent fruit than the champagne waiting for us.

“Oh yeah? You’re agreeing to weekly movie viewings?”

“Yes. You earned it.”

“Good to know.” He poured us each a glass of champagne.

I took a sip, enjoying the way the bubbles felt on my tongue. “Can we go outside?”

“Yeah, be my guest.” He held open one of the glass doors.

I leaned against the railing, loving the wind on my face, and not caring that the breeze was probably making a rat’s nest out of my hair. There is something about the wind on the ocean that leaves me breathless—it’s almost an emotional experience. Add in the champagne, and the hand resting on my back, and I was sort of in heaven. I say “sort of” because I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was living someone else’s life.

“It’s amazing, isn’t it?” he yelled over the howling wind. “The sheer power of the wind and the waves.”

“I know. It feels like we could fly off this lighthouse and lose ourselves in the waves.”

“I won’t let that happen.” His hand moved from my back to my waist, and he pulled me back against him. I snuggled into his strong chest.

His lips tickled the back of my neck as he brushed them again my skin. “The Outer Banks aren’t even supposed to exist.”

“You mean because of the water—how they change so much?”

“Yeah. That’s what the barrier islands are for. They protect the Outer Banks from the brunt of the storm.”

“Who protects the barrier islands?” I rested my hand in the crux of his arm.

“If I were religious, I might say God. But I’m not. They’re kind of like sacrificial lambs doing their part.”

“That’s kind of sad.”

“Or heroic. That is, if land can be heroic.”

“Anything can be heroic.” I snuggled back into him more.

“You think of things so differently from everyone else I know.”

“Or maybe I just say what’s on my mind. I’m tired of filtering my thoughts and feelings.”

He ran his hands over my arms. “Good. I don’t want you to. I like knowing what’s going on in that head of yours.”

“Right now, I’m content.” I turned around in his arms.

“Content is good.” He put a hand on either side of me, pushing me back against the railing. “Happy would be better.”

“Why? Content is just as good.”

“Happy is better.” His eyes bore into mine as though he were trying to convey his message through them. “I want to make you happy.”

“That’s a big statement to make about someone you barely know.”

“You don’t think I know you?” The disappointment in his voice was palpable.

“No.”

“Wow. No hesitation.” He let out a short breath. “Then how do I get to know you?”

“How do you know you’ll like what you find?”

“I will.” He stepped back, taking my hand to walk us back inside. “I don’t get it.”

“What don’t you get?” Without the wind, I wasn’t so comfortable being open.

“How a girl as beautiful and cool as you could have such a poor self-image.” He closed the door behind us, cutting off the sound and feel of the howling wind.

“My self-image is fine.”

“No, it’s not.” He picked up his champagne flute from the floor where he left it. “I wish I knew who messed it up.”

“What makes you think someone did?”

“The other option is that it’s all about this med school rejection thing. I don’t believe that.”

“Why not? Is losing your dream not worth getting down over?”

“This is not about being down. It’s about being down on yourself. It’s different. And was it really your dream? You make it sound like it was your parents’.”

“For a guy trying to impress me, you’re treading on thin ice.” I turned to look back outside.