Page 75 of Witchful Thinking
“You really like candles.” He pointed to the nightstand, which was littered with soy candles, each labeled with their scent, surrounding an antique lamp.
“I like ambiance.”
“You read in bed.”
“Of course. It’s the best place to use your imagination.”
“I bet.” A beat passed between them. “What do you like to imagine?”
Oh. Don’t go there. “Winning the lottery. Buying my dream home. Collecting first editions.”
“Hold up. If you win the lottery, you’re not going on vacation?”
“I wouldn’t know where to go.”
“Imagine.”
That one word he said conjured up a single image of the cerulean-blue ocean that stretched out until it touched the sky. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of the postcard on her corkboard, kept safe for more than seven years.
“I’d go back to the Indian Ocean.”
“You’ve been there before?”
“Yeah.” Lucy looked over at her corkboard on top of the dresser.
“Don’t leave me hanging, Caraway.”
“I did a summer study abroad with Meadowdale College. I spent the summer before my junior year in East Africa, researching and writing the history of the Swahili Coast. I’ve never been in an ocean that…blue or warm before.”
She couldn’t bring herself to get rid of the postcards or the kangas—the folded colorful fabric she’d brought back from her travels. The longest time she’d ever left home was the last time she’d taken a risk and had an adventure. Back then, she’d sought excitement. She’d been brave and foolish. Since then she’d been so careful about what she did and where she went. Life was safe. It was comfortable. It was fine.
“I’d love to go with you.” The promise in Alex’s voice sent a shiver through her body.
No. She was letting herself want an adventure that she couldn’t have. She needed to stop fooling around and get back to the cookout. “We should get back.”
“I don’t think Auntie Niesha will appreciate my outfit change.” Alex gestured to the fluffy robe that barely reached his mid-thigh. “I hope you found something other than this.”
She went over to the dresser, yanked it open, and tossed several items onto the bed for them to change into. He looked over the clothes, sorting through the pile.
Alex held up a bedazzled shirt. “I think this matches my scales.”
“Wear it if you want,” Lucy muttered. This wet dress clung to everything.
“No, I don’t want to stretch it out.”
He put the shirt down, then held up a black lace bra. “Why haven’t I seen you in this yet?”
Lucy snatched it from him. “Let’s go.”
Alex held a gray shirt with the purple logo of the Freya Grove Gladiators.
“Is this mine? You’ve kept it all these years.”
“It is, and I did.” Lucy glared at Alex, willing herself not to let him see how much a scrap of fabric meant to her. It had been his and that fact made it valuable. He was her starfish, nothing else. Play it off. It’s nothing. “It’s a good sleep shirt. I wear it and nothing else.”
He watched for a heated moment, then licked his lips at her. Pleasure pulsated deep between her legs. Yeah. Nothing else. Lucy found basketball shorts and placed them on the bed.
“I should change.”