Wrapped Up in You (Heartbreaker Bay, #8)(85)

Which was probably why she made lists like it was her job.

The bartender’s name was Boomer, and she’d known him for a long time. He was waiting with a smile for her to admit the truth—that she loved Shirley Temples. But she didn’t admit any such thing. She just rolled her eyes—honestly, she was going to have to learn to stop doing that—and nodded.

Boomer slid a Shirley Temple in front of her. She took a big sip and was unable to hold in her sigh of pleasure, making Hot Guy finally really smile.

And oh boy, it was a doozy.

Just a little harmless flirting, she told herself. There was no harm in allowing herself this one little thing.

Which was when the power flickered and . . . went out.

She wasn’t surprised, but by the collective gasp around her, she could tell everyone else was. Boomer hopped up onto the top of the bar. “Storm decided to hit us early and she’s gonna be a doozy! Calling it a night!” he yelled out to the crowd. “Everyone go home and stay safe!”

In the ensuing chaos, Hot Guy grabbed Piper’s hand and tugged her along with him, not towards the front door with the mass exodus, but through the bar and out the back.

Where indeed, the storm was moving in with a vengeance, given that the wind slapped them back against the wall.

“Nice work getting us out so quickly,” she said breathlessly. “How did you know about the back door if you’re new here?”

“I always know the way out.”

That she believed. She took in the night, which was the sort of pitch black that came from no power anywhere and a dark, turbulent sky whipped to a frenzy by high winds.

“The rain’s gonna hit any second,” he said, not sounding thrilled about that.

This tugged a breathless laugh from her. “Chin up, Princess, or the crown slips.”

He turned and gave her a dry wtf look. She’d bet her last dollar he’d never once in his life been called a princess before. “Sorry,” she said on a grin. “That was an automatic response. My dad used to say that to me whenever I complained about the rain. Do you know how often it rains in Odisha, India?”

“I’m betting less than Mobile, Alabama,” he said, “where I spent six months with my unit training the Maritime Safety and Security Team, and we never once saw anything but pouring rain. Emphasis on pouring.”

“Six months straight, huh?” she asked sympathetically. “Okay, you win.”

His lips quirked. “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

And with that, he took her hand and was her anchor as they ran through the wind to her beat up old Jeep. She was actually grateful since the gusts nearly blew her away twice, saved only by his solid, easy footing. Actually, the man moved like he was at the top of the food chain; quiet, economical, stealth movements that if you knew what he did for a living made perfect sense.

She and Jenna waved to each other from across the lot, and when Jenna gave her a thumbs-up, Piper shook her head.

“Thanks for the drink,” she said, having to raise her voice to be heard over the wind.

“I’ll follow you home to make sure you get there okay.”

“Not necessary, I’m fine.” Because no way was she falling for that line. There was flirting, and then there was being stupid. “And anyway, as a local, I should be checking on you to see if you get home okay.”

He laughed. And as it turned out, he had a great one, though she had no idea if he was so amused because he was touched by her worry for him, or because it was ridiculous, since clearly he could handle himself.

“I’m good,” he finally said. “Drive safe.” And then he stepped back, vanishing into the darkness.