A Want So Wicked (A Need So Beautiful #2)(16)

“Like a date?” My heartbeat quickens.

“Like dinner.” He turns to leave, sliding his hands into the pockets of his work pants as he begins to whistle. I’d offered him a ride home, but he said he preferred to walk. And once he’s gone, I bite off a piece of jerky, thinking about tomorrow.

Lucy is going to be so proud.

A loud rumble cuts through the cooling night air, and I look up to see a motorcycle pull into the 7-Eleven. My heart skips a beat when I recognize the rider, and I set the beef jerky aside.

He notices me and comes to park next to my car, cutting the engine. The silence is thick around us when he does. “Hi,” he says, like he’s surprised to see me here. He takes off his helmet, hanging it on the handle bar. “Late-night fix?” He grins and motions to the cupcake wrapper.

“If I see another taco I just might poke my eyes out,” I respond, standing and smoothing down my shirt. “So I thought this was a good alternative.”

The guy nods politely, then glances back at the store. “I should, uh—” He points toward the door, as if asking my permission to leave.

“Of course,” I say. “You know, you should come by the restaurant again one day. Maybe this time I’ll be the one to bring your soda.”

“I sure hope so,” he says. “Your coworker was highly efficient, but not nearly as distracting. You might have some competition for employee of the month.”

“Well, as long as you’re rooting for me.”

“I definitely am,” he murmurs, watching me as I walk around the car to get in. I’m glad he didn’t mention the fact that my sister nearly ran him down earlier.

“When do you work next?” he asks suddenly. I look over my shoulder.

“Tomorrow.”

“Then I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He’s so calm and collected—confident in a way I’ve never seen. It’s like I could tell him anything. I decide to start with my name. “I’m Elise, by the way,” I offer. “Since you never asked.”

He winces as if he’s shocked by his own behavior. “That was awfully rude of me,” he says, his voice tender. He takes a step closer, the lights of the store showering his face in a soft glow. I’m once again stunned by how handsome he is. “It’s nice to meet you, Elise,” he says, a slow, sexy smile pulling at his lips. “I’m Harlin.”

CHAPTER 8

When Harlin goes inside the convenience store, I leave for home—the dread returning. In just a matter of days, my life has begun to spiral out of control. Hallucinations, memories . . . visions. On top of that, my sister is disappearing all the time, my dad is overworked and worried, and I have a sort of date with Abe tomorrow.

And of course, now there’s Harlin.

When I pull up to my house, the front door opens. Lucy bounds toward me as I park the car. She’s dressed in all black except for the light reflecting off her eyebrow ring.

“You’re late,” she says, reaching out her hand for the keys. “Thought you’d be home a half hour ago, but thank God for small favors, right?” She climbs into the driver’s seat, cringing as she does. She raises her eyes to meet mine. “Stupid lady parts,” she says.

“Wait, what about Dad?” I ask, checking the time on my phone.

“I’ll be back before then.”

Our father does a midnight service on Wednesdays at his church. A lot of his parishioners can’t make it in the morning or on the weekends because of their jobs, so he started this to accommodate them. It’s been a big hit, but I know he worries about us when he’s gone. I hope he doesn’t call to ask about Lucy.

“If you hear from him, just tell him I’m in the shower. Then text me and I’ll call him.” She slides a CD into the stereo, cranking it up.

“Lucy—”

“Don’t worry,” she says over the loud music. “It’s going to be fine.” Her expression falters for a second, but she recovers to smile at me. “Promise.”

I watch my sister back out of the driveway and then I go inside, opting to spend the next few hours researching the web for out-of-body experiences. I turn up little to explain what’s happening to me. I think back on Diego, on Paul—they were surrounded in some kind of light.

There’s nothing online about bright lights other than near-death experiences—and I’m pretty sure I didn’t die. Or at least I hope not. I end up spending a half hour looking up past lives. It feels wrong, especially since my father is a pastor. Still, the idea is fascinating—the thought that a soul can return—sometimes with flashes of memories. The more I read, the more plausible it seems.

As I sit at the kitchen table, I rub my eyes. Seriously, Elise. Past lives?

I push back in my chair and click off the computer. I decide to get some rest, hoping it’ll help clear the fog in my head, maybe help me come up with better answers. As I lie in bed, I hear my sister’s car return, the engine idling a long minute before the front door opens.

I sit up, glancing toward the hall. I want to ask her what’s going on—really going on—on these late-night rendezvous. My sister may date a lot, but she’s not completely irresponsible. She doesn’t drink or sleep around. At least she never used to.

My feet touch the cool floor as I stand, but just then I hear the shower turn on. I sit back on the edge of my bed, debating whether or not to knock. It’s nearly twelve thirty and I know my dad will be home any second, so I decide that now might not be the best time to start an intervention. I prop myself up on the pillow, my eyelids getting heavier with each blink. And then they close altogether and I drift off.