But it was too late. Sid was definitely attached.
“No wonder there are so many desserts floating around this crowd,” Manny said, stepping up to the booth. “The sweetest piece in the room is hiding behind this table.”
The sweetest piece? He better not be talking about her.
“Hi, Manny,” Kinzie all but purred. Her face was an odd shade of pink and she seemed to be bouncing on her tiptoes. “I made some meringues for you.” A box of fluffy white concoctions appeared from under the table.
“Hey,” he said, pulling the box across the table. “Is this my grandmother’s recipe?”
“It is,” Kinzie beamed.
So that’s how things were.
Sid pondered the possible couple. Kinzie and Manny were the same age but that’s where the similarities ended. Then again, she and Lucas were about as different as a tuna and a marlin so who was she to judge?
“How much do I owe you for these?” Manny asked, reaching for his wallet.
“Since you gave me the recipe, we’ll call it even. I’m sure they’re not as good as your grandmother’s, but I hope they’re close.”
He shot the blushing pirate wench a smile and took a quick swipe off the top of one of the delicacies. Popping the taste in his mouth, his eyes rolled back. “Al igual que la abuela.”
Sid assumed that meant the white puffs were good.
Manny cradled the box against his chest. “Thanks, Kinzie. This gives me a little taste of home.”
Pride beamed from the happy baker until Manny turned Sid’s way. “Why don’t you take a break and come sit with me for a while.” He held up the box. “I’m willing to share.”
Oh, no. Sid looked over to Kinzie in time to see the woman practically deflate to the floor. Manny could not be this dense. “I think the one who made them should get to have some, don’t you?” she asked, nodding her head furiously in Kinzie’s direction.
Manny didn’t get the message. “Come on. Don’t you want some of this?” By this he clearly didn’t mean the desserts. Men were so damn stupid.
“Time’s up, Sullivan. You’re holding up the line.” Lucas appeared at the end of the booth, standing as close to Sid as possible with three feet of table between them. She could feel the anger rolling off him.
“What’s up with you, man? Don’t you need to get back to that fancy lawyer gig of yours?”
On a normal day, Sid would expect laid-back Lucas to ignore the challenge in Manny’s voice and bring a rational, mature end to this ridiculous scene. But a crowd was gathering and Lucas looked neither laid-back nor rational.
“I think it’s time to dance,” she said, hopping over the side of the booth, hoping she hadn’t just flashed her girly parts to the crowd at large. “Come on, Lucas. Twirl me around the floor.”
Sid was not a dancer. She’d never twirled around anything, never mind a dance floor. But unless she wanted to see the typically bored Anchor Island Police Department, all two of them, be called into action, she had to think quick.
When they reached the dance floor, she pulled Lucas into the crowd, hoping to put obstacles as well as distance between the two men. Not two seconds after reaching the middle of the floor, the toe-tapping number came to an end, and another song, slow and mournful, began.
For several seconds they stood unmoving, eyes locked, surrounded by tension. Sid bit her bottom lip and raised her brows. “You going to leave me hanging?” she asked.
“I don’t want to,” he said, hands at his sides.
“You don’t want to dance?” This was not how she expected the night to go. “We don’t have to …”
Before she could wind her way back off the floor, he caught her hand and pulled her against him. “I don’t want to leave you hanging,” he said, as if the statement made any kind of sense. “I need you to know that.”
Okay. Now she was completely confused. He held her so tight, she had to push away from him just to lean back far enough to see his face. When he finally looked down, she said, “What does that mean?”
He ignored the question, laying his forehead against hers. “Can we get out of here?” he asked.
They’d begun to sway to the music and Sid realized dancing had something going for it. Hips pressed together. Lucas holding on tight. The music floating around them as their bodies moved in time as if melded together.
“Can we finish this song?”
Lucas smiled, though his eyes remained dark and stormy. “Yeah. We can do that.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Sid didn’t say much on the way home, which was good since Lucas didn’t have the words to explain whatever this was spinning through his system. Her scrap of a dress didn’t include pockets so he’d carried the keys. Reaching the truck, they seemed to decide he would drive without either of them saying a word.
With Sid curled against his side on the bench seat, Lucas absorbed the feeling of having her close. A memory he could bring to mind once he was back in Richmond. It would be a while before the scent of watermelon made him think of anything other than Sid in his arms.
Once they reached the house, Lucas circled the truck to lift Sid out. Even with no one around, he didn’t want her jumping out wearing the handkerchief Beth considered a dress.
“I’ve never let anyone drive my truck before,” she said, as if talking about the weather instead of revealing how much she’d come to trust him. Lucas’s chest tightened.
“I can see why. There’s a lot of power under that hood. Takes a steady hand.” He slid a knuckle along her jawline, knowing he wasn’t talking about the truck. Recognizing the understanding in her eyes.
“Right.” Sid looked down but didn’t move. “I need the keys to unlock the door.”
“I’ve got it,” he said, following her to the house, his hand possessive on the small of her back. As he slipped the key into the lock, Sid stopped him with a touch on his arm.
“I appreciate this chivalry thing, but I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time.” She hesitated, as if searching for the right words. “Playing the passive damsel doesn’t sit well with me.”
In the fading light he could see uncertainty in her expression. As if walking a thin line, worried it might break. “I’m sorry,” he said, stepping back to give her access to the door. “You’re right. I’m acting like a caveman.”
Lucas had never been the grunting, Neanderthal type, but something changed when he was with Sid. He wanted to take care of her. Keep her close and send a message that she was taken.
Which, of course, she wasn’t. At least not beyond the next couple weeks. Which didn’t feel nearly long enough. For what, he didn’t know. He only knew thinking about leaving made his gut feel like it was being shoved through a meat grinder.
Sid pushed into the house and Lucas followed. She dropped her keys on the end table, then waited for him to reach the couch.
“What happened back there?”
Lucas shrugged and sat down to remove the ridiculous black boots. “I didn’t like the way Manny was talking to you.”
“I got that,” she said. “We all got that. I admit this jealousy thing was flattering at first. I’ve never had a guy get riled up on my behalf. But now it’s just annoying.”
She had every right to be angry, though he’d have expected a more brilliant display of temper. A good fight would lead to make-up sex, with the bonus of heightened intensity. Not that having sex with Sid wasn’t already the most intense thing he’d ever done in his life.
“It was a knee-jerk reaction. I’ll control it better from now on.” With one boot off, he moved to the next.
“Have I given off the ‘helpless’ vibe?” Sid asked, ripping her own boots off. “Something that says I need to be taken care of?”