Page 68 of Some Sort of Happy (Happy Crazy Love 1)
but I’m not totally insane.” He paused. “Usually.”
Smiling, I swished over to the other rocker, sat down, and looked around. “So this is sunrise.”
Sebastian laughed. “This is sunrise. Ever seen one before?”
“Yes. But not after a night’s sleep. The bars close late in New York, as you know, so if I worked till close, sometimes the sun was coming up by the time I got off. But it didn’t look like this. Or sound like this or feel like this.” I inhaled, the scent of dark roast coffee mixing with the fresh, woodsy air. “Or smell like this.”
Nodding, he sat in the other chair, and I tried—I really tried—not to bombard him with personal questions right away. But there was just so much I wanted to know about him! Everything from What do you like to eat for breakfast to What do you write about in that notebook to What did you mean last night that you wanted to make me yours to Are you ready for another round?
But I didn’t want to spook him too soon, and anyway, it was nice just sitting here. I could get used to this.
Whoa. Whoa there.
Somewhere inside me, rational sense suddenly spoke up. You just spent your first night together, so don’t go getting all attached to him or this or anything else. He already told you he moved here to get away and doesn’t want a serious relationship, so don’t go thinking one night of great sex was going to change his mind about that. You are not a special snowflake. I lifted my cup to my lips.
“Hey. No frowning at sunrise.”
I sipped and smiled at him. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to. I was just thinking too hard.”
“Bout what?”
Inhale. Exhale. “About last night.”
A dark look crossed his face, and he looked out into the trees. “It was too much for you.”
“No! No, not at all. I liked it.”
“Did you?”
It was cool on the porch, but my body warmed. “I loved it, actually.” I dropped my eyes to my coffee. “I’ve never done that before.”
“Me either.”
I looked at him, surprised. “No? My God, you knew exactly what you were doing! You seemed so sure of yourself.”
“I know how to tie a good knot. And I’d certainly thought about doing it plenty of times.” He looked away from me for a second. “I’ve just never met anyone I felt comfortable enough to do it with.”
“Not even your fiancée?” I couldn’t resist.
“Especially not her.”
Oh my God, what did that mean? I was trying to work it out in my brain when he reached over and tugged on the sheet. “Hey. Stop analyzing. Last night was fun. Let’s leave it at that.”
What? Was he fucking kidding? I couldn’t leave it at fun! What about all the things we’d said? Didn’t they mean anything? “But—”
“No buts. Come here.”
A little frustrated, I got up, coffee and sheet and all, and went over to his chair, where he opened his arms and motioned for me to sit onto his lap. His chest was warm, and I leaned back against it, trying not to feel disappointed that he wasn’t going to tell me anything else.
And then the notebook at our feet caught my eye.
“Are you a writer too?” I ventured.
“No. Not really.”
“I noticed you have that notebook with you a lot.”
He hesitated. “It’s part of my therapy.”
